Meanwhile the nurse had seized her own cloak, flung it over the fugitive’s bare shoulders, and whispered: 

“Be near the tent just before sunrise, but do not enter it until I call you, if you value your life.  You have neither mother nor father, and my child Kasana ah, what a dear, loving heart she has!—­she is the best of all good women; but whether she is fit to be the guide of an inexperienced young blusterer, whose heart is blazing like dry straw with love for her, is another question.  I considered many things, while listening to your story, and on account of my liking for you I will tell you this.  You have an uncle who—­my child is right there—­is the best of men, and I know mankind.  Whatever he advised, do; for it will surely benefit you.  Obey him!  If his bidding leads you far away from here and Kasana, so much the better for you.  We are walking in dangerous paths, and had it not been done for Hosea’s sake, I would have tried to hold her back with all my might.  But for him—­I am an old woman; but I would go through fire myself for that man.  I am more grieved than I can tell, both for the pure, sweet child and for yourself, whom my own son was once so much like, so I repeat:  Obey your uncle, boy!  Do that, or you will go to ruin, and that would be a pity!”

With these words, without waiting for an answer, she drew the curtain of the tent aside, and waited until Ephraim had slipped through.  Then, wiping her eyes, she entered, as if by chance, the lighted chamber; but Kasana and her late guest had matters to discuss that brooked no witnesses, and her “dear child” only permitted her to light her little lamp at the three-armed candelabra, and then sent her to rest.

She promptly obeyed and, in the dark room, where her couch stood beside that of her mistress, she sank down, hid her face in her hands, and wept.

She felt as though the world was upside down.  She no longer understood her darling Kasana; for she was sacrificing purity and honor for the sake of a man whom—­she knew it—­her soul abhorred.

CHAPTER XXI.

Ephriam cowered in the shadow of the tent, from which he had slipped, and pressed his ear close to the wall.  He had cautiously ripped a small opening in a seam of the cloth, so he could see and hear what was passing in the lighted room of the woman he loved.  The storm kept every one within the tents whom duty did not summon into the open air, and Ephraim had less reason to fear discovery on account of the deep shadow that rested on the spot where he lay.  The nurse’s cloak covered him and, though shiver after shiver shook his young limbs, it was due to the bitter anguish that pierced his soul.

The man on whose breast he saw Kasana lay her head was a prince, a person of high rank and great power, and the capricious beauty did not always repel the bold man, when his lips sought those for whose kiss Ephraim so ardently longed.