ged from the windings of the
valley into the open space below.

She carried a band of linen and a small box of horn in her hand. When
the young bearers saw her, one of them, who had been rubbing his eye,
came to her. She set her box upon an outstanding edge of stone and
devoted herself to him. Drawing his head back until it rested against
her bosom, with tender hands she dressed the injured optic with balm
from the box.

Kenkenes from his aery watched her, noting with a softening countenance
the almost maternal love that beautified her face. Now and then she
spoke soothingly as the boy flinched, but her words were so softly said
that the sculptor did not catch them. The eye dressed, she covered it
with the bandage and the pair separated. It was with some regret that
Kenkenes saw her turn to leave the spot. But at that moment the
taskmaster rode into the open space. She made a sign of salutation and
paused at a word from him. Kenkenes fancied that her face had sobered
and he looked down on the cowled head and shoulders of the overseer,
wrathfully wondering if the Egyptian had played the master so harshly
that Rachel dreaded him. Presently the man dismounted; and though his
back was turned toward Kenkenes, the young sculptor knew by his stature
that he was not the soldier who had first governed the quarries. The
young man watched him excitedly but there was no display of tyranny or
even authority in the taskmaster's manner. They talked, and by the
motion of the man's hand Kenkenes fancied that he described something
growing near the Nile. Presently they walked together toward the
outlet of the valley. The taskmaster leaped down the ledge and,
turning, put up his arms and lifted Rachel down. It was plain that
something more than courtesy inspired the act, for the man's hands fell
reluctantly. Kenkenes faced sharply about and proceeded up the hill to
his statue with a queer discomfort tugging at his heart.

That night in his effort to bring forth the coveted expression in his
drawings of Athor, Kenkenes all but satisfied himself.

The next day, without any apparent cause, he went back to the niche in
the desert, stayed without purpose, and departed when no tangible
reason urged him. When the day declined he climbed down the front of
the hill and crossed the narrow field toward his boat, which was buried
in the rank vegetation of the water's edge. At the Nile he noted, a
little distance up the river, a