He began to retrace his
steps to meet her, but she noted the action and quickened her rapid
walk into running.

"Thou didst drop this outside the camp," she said as she came near. "I
feared it might have somewhat pertaining to the statue on it, and I
have brought it, with the permission of the taskmaster." She stopped,
and putting her hand into the folds of her habit on her breast,
hesitated as if for words to speak further. Kenkenes interrupted her
with his thanks.

"How thou hast fatigued thyself for me, Rachel! Out of all Egypt I
doubt if I might find another so constant guardian of my welfare. The
grace of the gods attend thee as faithfully. I thank thee, most
gratefully."

The purpose in her face dissolved, the hand that seemed to hold
somewhat in the folds of her habit relaxed and fell slowly. While
Kenkenes waited for her to speak, he noted that a dress of unbleached
linen replaced the coarse cotton surplice she had worn before, and her
feet were shod with simple sandals--an extravagance among slaves. But
the garb was yet too mean. The sculptor wondered at that moment how
the sumptuous attire of the high-born Memphian women would become her.
He shook his head and in his imagination dressed her in snow-white
robes with but the collar of rings about her throat, and stood back to
marvel at his picture of splendid simplicity.

"Hast thou not something more to tell me?" he asked kindly. "Do thou
rest here on the wharf while we talk. Art thou not quite breathless?"

"Nay, I thank thee," she faltered. "I may not linger." The hand once
again sought the folds over her breast.

"Then let me walk with thee on thy way. It will be dark soon."

"Nay," she protested flushing, "and again, I thank thee. It is not
needful." She made a movement as if to leave him, but he stepped to
her side.

"Out upon thee, daughter of Israel, thou art ungracious," he
remonstrated laughingly. "I can not think thee so wondrous brave. For
it is a long walk to the camp and the night will be pitch-black. Why
may I not go with thee?"

"There is naught to be feared."

"Of a truth? Those hills are as full of wild beasts as Amenti is of
spirits. And even if no hurt befell thee, the trepidation of that long
journey would be cruel. Nay; Ptah, the gallant god, would spurn my
next offering, did I send thee back to camp alone. Wilt thou come?"

She bowed and dropped behind him. Her resolution to maintain the forms
of di