“She is very like my Danaid princess,” he said to his wife; “only she is younger and much prettier than she.”

Little Scherau came in to pay his respects to her, and she was delighted to see the boy; still she was sad, and however kindly Nefert spoke to her she remained in silent reverie, while from time to time a large tear rolled down her cheek.

“You have lost your father!” said Nefert, trying to comfort her.  “And I, my mother and brother both in one day.”

“Kaschta was rough but, oh! so kind,” replied Uarda.  “He was always so fond of me; he was like the fruit of the doom palm; its husk is hard and rough, but he who knows how to open it finds the sweet pulp within.  Now he is dead, and my grandfather and grandmother are gone before him, and I am like the green leaf that I saw floating on the waters when we were crossing the sea; anything so forlorn I never saw, abandoned by all it belonged to or had ever loved, the sport of a strange element in which nothing resembling itself ever grew or ever can grow.”

Nefert kissed her forehead.  “You have friends,” she said, “who will never abandon you.”

“I know, I know!” said Uarda thoughtfully, “and yet I am alone—­for the first time really alone.  In Thebes I have often looked after the wild swans as they passed across the sky; one flies in front, then comes the body of the wandering party, and very often, far behind, a solitary straggler; and even this last one I do not call lonely, for he can still see his brethren in front of him.  But when the hunters have shot down all the low-flying loiterers, and the last one has lost sight of the flock, and knows that he never again can find them or follow them he is indeed to be pitied.  I am as unhappy as the abandoned bird, for I have lost sight to-day of all that I belong to, and I am alone, and can never find them again.”

“You will be welcomed into some more noble house than that to which you belong by birth,” said Nefert, to comfort her.

Uarda’s eyes flashed, and she said proudly, almost defiantly: 

“My race is that of my mother, who was a daughter of no mean house; the reason I turned back this morning and went into the smoke and fire again after I had escaped once into the open air—­what I went back for, because I felt it was worth dying for, was my mother’s legacy, which I had put away with my holiday dress when I followed the wretched Nemu to his tent.  I threw myself into the jaws of death to save the jewel, but certainly not because it is made of gold and precious stones—­for I do not care to be rich, and I want no better fare than a bit of bread and a few dates and a cup of water—­but because it has a name on it in strange characters, and because I believe it will serve to discover the people from whom my mother was carried off; and now I have lost the jewel, and with it my identity and my hopes and happiness.”

Uarda wept aloud; Nefert put her arm around her affectionately.