“The wound aches—­and death—­must I die?” One looked enquiringly at another, and the men would gladly have concealed the terrible truth; but she went on: 

“Oh, let me know.  Ah, I pray you, tell me the truth!”

Miriam, who was kneeling beside her, found courage to answer: 

“Yes, you poor young creature, the wound is deep, but whatever my skill can accomplish shall be done to preserve your life as long as possible.”

The words sounded kind and full of compassion, yet the deep voice of the prophetess seemed to hurt Kasana; for her lips quivered painfully while Miriam was speaking, and when she ceased, her eyes closed and one large tear after another ran down her cheeks.  Deep, anxious silence reigned around her until she again raised her lashes and, fixing her eyes wearily on Miriam, asked softly, as if perplexed by some strange spectacle: 

“You are a woman, and yet practise the art of the leech.”

“My God has commanded me to care for the suffering ones of our people,” replied the other.

The dying girl’s eyes began to glitter with a restless light, and she gasped in louder tones, nay with a firmness that surprised the others: 

“You are Miriam, the woman who sent for Hosea.”  And when the other answered promptly and proudly:  “It is as you say!” Kasana continued: 

“And you possess striking, imperious beauty, and much influence.  He obeyed your summons, and you—­you consented to wed another?”

Again the prophetess answered, this time with gloomy earnestness:  “It is as you say.”

The dying girl closed her eyes once more, and a strange proud smile hovered around her lips.  But it soon vanished and a great and painful restlessness seized upon her.  The fingers of her little hands, her lips, nay, even her eyelids moved perpetually, and her smooth, narrow forehead contracted as if some great thought occupied her mind.

At last the ideas that troubled her found utterance and, as if roused from her repose, she exclaimed in terrified accents: 

“You are Ephraim, who seemed like his son, and the old man is Nun, his dear father.  There you stand and will live on....  But I—­I ....  Oh, it is so hard to leave the light....  Anubis will lead me before the judgment seat of Osiris.  My heart will be weighed, and then....”

Here she shuddered and opened and closed her trembling hands; but she soon regained her composure and began to speak again.  Miriam, however, sternly forbade this, because it would hasten her death.

Then the sufferer, summoning all her strength, exclaimed hastily, as loudly as her voice would permit, after measuring the prophetess’ tall figure with a long glance:  “You wish to prevent me from doing my duty—­ you?”

There had been a slight touch of mockery in the question; but Kasana doubtless felt that it was necessary to spare her strength; for she continued far more quietly, as though talking to herself: