e kind of sorrow that
even the benign night might not subdue. Masanath was well acquainted
with such vigils as the golden Israelite seemed to be keeping.

Her love-lorn heart was stirred. She spoke to Rachel softly.

"Come hither and lie down by me," she said. "I am afraid and thou art
unhappy. Give me some of thy courage and I will sorrow with thee."

The Israelite smiled sadly and obeyed.

It was dawn when the fan-bearer's daughter awoke again.

The door had been set aside, and on the rock threshold a squat copper
lamp was sending up periodic eruptions of dense white vapor. Rachel
was feeding the ember of the cotton wick with bits of chopped root.
The breeze from the river blew the fumes back into the cave, filling
the dark recesses with a fresh and pungent odor.

Masanath, wondering and remembering, raised her head to look through
the opening. Day was broad over Egypt, and the turmoil had subsided.
The silence was heavy. But the Nile was still a wallowing torrent of
red.

She sank back and drew the wide sleeves of her dress over her face.
Rachel put the lamp aside, set the door in place and came to her.

"Thou art better for thy long sleep," she said. "Now, if thou canst
bear, as well, with the meager food this house affords, the plague will
not vex thee sorely." Then, in obedience to the Israelite's offer,
Masanath sat up and suffered Rachel to dress her hair and bathe her
tiny hands and face with a solution of weak white wine.

"The water which we had stored with us is also corrupted. I fear we
shall thirst, if we have but wine to wet our lips," Rachel explained.

"Thou dost not tell me that ye abide in this place?" the fan-bearer's
daughter asked, taking the piece of fowl and hard bread which Rachel
offered her.

"Even so," Rachel responded after a little silence.

"Holy Isis! guests of a spirit! What a ghastly hospice for women! How
came ye here?"

For a moment there was silence, so marked that Masanath ceased her
dainty feeding and drew back a little.

"Are ye lepers?" she asked in a frightened voice.

"Nay, we are fugitives," Rachel answered.

"Fugitives! What strait brought you to seek such asylum as this?"

Again a speaking pause.

"Who art thou, Lady?" Rachel asked, at last.

"I am Masanath, daughter of Har-hat, fan-bearer to the Pharaoh."

"And thou art a friend of the oppressed?" the Israelite continued.

"It is my boast before the gods," the Egyptian answered with dig