The maid who fastened the flowers on her bosom could feel her mistress’s heart beating under her hand, and the lotos-blossoms which drooped from her shoulder rose and fell as though they were already rocking on the waves of the Nile.  Her lips, too, never ceased moving, and her cheeks were as pale as death.

“What is she going to do?” her attendants asked each other.

Her mother dead only yesterday, and now she chose to be present at this ceremonial, desiring the steersman to run close to the platform and keep near to it, where all the world could see her.  But she evidently wished to display herself to the people in all her finery and be admired, for she presently went up on the roof of the deck-house.  And she looked lovely, as lovely as a guileless angel, as she mounted the steps with childlike diffidence-timidly, but with wide open eyes, as though something grand was awaiting her there—­something she had long yearned for with her whole heart.

Anubis had to help her up the last steps, for her knees gave way; but once at the top she sent him down again to remain below with the others, as she wished to be alone.  The lad was accustomed to obey; and Katharina now stepped on a seat close to the side of the boat, turned to Paula, whom she was now rapidly approaching, and held out to her and the bishop two tall lily-stems covered with splendid blossoms.  At the very moment when the farrier was measuring by eye the distance between the platform and the barge, and had judged it impossible to cast the Bride into the stream till the vessel had moved on, Katharina cried out: 

“Reverend Father John—­and all of you!  Take me, me and not the daughter of Thomas!  It is I, not she—­I am the true Bride of the Nile.  Of my own free will—­hear me, John!—­of my own free will I am ready to give my life for my hapless land and the misery of the people, and the patriarch said that such a sacrifice as mine would be acceptable to Heaven.  Farewell!  Pray for me!—­Lord have mercy upon me!  Mother, dear Mother, I am coming to you!”

Then she called to the steersman:  “Put out from the platform!” and as soon as a few strokes of the oars had carried the barge into the deeper channel she stepped nimbly on to the edge of the bulwark, dropped the lilies into the river, and then with a smile, her head gracefully bent on one side and her skirt modestly held round her, she slipped into the water.

The waves closed over her; but she was a good swimmer and could not help coming once to the surface.  Her expression was that of a bather enjoying the cool fresh water that laved and gurgled round her.  Perhaps the wild storm of applause, the mingled cries of horror, compassion and thanksgiving that went up from the assembled thousands once more reached her ear—­but she dived head foremost to rise no more.

The “River-God,” a good-hearted man, who in his daily life could never have let a fellow-creature drown under his very eyes, forgot his part, released Paula, and sprang after Katharina, as did Anubis and a few boatmen; but they could not reach her, and the boy, who found swimming difficult with his crippled leg followed the girl to whom his young heart was wholly devoted to a watery death.