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"I do not pray," said Nebsecht, "for the law which moves the world is as little affected by prayers as the current of the sands in your hour-glass. Who tells you that I do not seek to come upon the track of the first beginning of things? I proved to you just now that I know more about the origin of Scarabei than you do.
With these words she endeavored to part her mass of long reddish-brown hair with her slender hands, and to free it from the straws that had got entangled in it. "Lie still," said the surgeon, in a warning voice. "But it is so heavy," said the sick girl, smiling and showing Nebsecht her abundant wealth of golden hair as if it were a fatiguing burden. "Come, grandmother, and help me."
Uarda still lay, when the sun was sinking, in front of the hut. She looked weary and pale. Her long hair had come undone, and once more got entangled with the straw of her humble couch. If Nebsecht went near her to feel her pulse or to speak to her she carefully turned her face from him.
When the valley was clear, the officer entered the yard, and found there, besides Uarda and the witch Hekt, the poet, and Nebsecht, who was engaged in tending the wounded. Pentaur shortly narrated the affair to the captain, and named himself to him. The soldier offered him his hand.
"Nebsecht has already told us that she was a dumb woman, a prisoner of war, and I myself believe that she was of no mean house, for Uarda is nobly formed in face and figure." "And her skin is as fine as the petal of a flower," cried Rameri. "Her voice is like the ring of pure gold, and Oh! look, she is moving. Uarda, open your eyes, Uarda! When the sun rises we praise the Gods.
"I was a long time behind the reeds there, for I did not like to come out because of the strangers there." He pointed to Nebsecht and Pentaur. "But now I must go home," he cried.
Uarda left the tent, Pentaur remained with him listening to his hoarse and difficult breathing; suddenly: Nebsecht raised himself, and said: "Farewell, my friend, my journey is beginning, who knows whither?" "Only not into vacancy, not to end in nothingness!" cried Pentaur warmly. The leech shook his head. "I have been something," he said, "and being something I cannot become nothing.
"During the voyage," said Nebsecht, "I was uneasy about Pentaur, for I saw how he was pining, but in the desert he seemed to rouse himself, and often whispered sweet little songs that he had composed while we marched." "That is strange," said Bent-Anat, "for I also got better in the desert." "Repeat the verses on the Beytharan plant," said Nebsecht. "Do you know the plant?" asked the poet.
The physician Nebsecht, himself eating nothing but a piece of bread, looked on at the feasters. They tore the meat from the bones, and the soldier, especially, devoured the costly and unwonted meal like some ravenous animal. He could be heard chewing like a horse in the manger, and a feeling of disgust filled the physician's soul.
"The brute, the monster!" cried Nebsecht in a rage.
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