Surprised, motionless, and with crimson cheeks, he
stood opposite the girl, and his eyes followed every movement of her
hands with anxious observation.

She did not notice him.

When the old woman laid down the comb Uarda drew a long breath.

"Grandmother," she said, "give me the mirror." The old woman brought
a shard of dimly glazed, baked clay. The girl turned to the light,
contemplated the undefined reflection for a moment, and said:

"I have not seen a flower for so long, grandmother."

"Wait, child," she replied; she took from a jug the rose, which the
princess had laid on the bosom of her grandchild, and offered it to her.
Before Uarda could take it, the withered petals fell, and dropped
upon her. The surgeon stooped, gathered them up, and put them into the
child's hand.

"How good you are!" she said; "I am called Uarda--like this flower--and
I love roses and the fresh air. Will you carry me out now?"

Nebsecht called the paraschites, who came into the hut with his son, and
they carried the girl out into the air, and laid her under the humble
tent they had contrived for her. The soldier's knees trembled while he
held the light burden of his daughter's weight in his strong hands, and
he sighed when he laid her down on the mat.

"How blue the sky is!" cried Uarda. "Ah! grandfather has watered my
pomegranate, I thought so! and there come my doves! give me some corn in
my hand, grandmother. How pleased they are."

The graceful birds, with black rings round their reddish-grey necks,
flew confidingly to her, and took the corn that she playfully laid
between her lips.

Nebsecht looked on with astonishment at this pretty play. He felt as if
a new world had opened to him, and some new sense, hitherto unknown to
him, had been revealed to him within his breast. He silently sat down
in front of the but, and drew the picture of a rose on the sand with a
reed-stem that he picked up.

Perfect stillness was around him; the doves even had flown up, and
settled on the roof. Presently the dog barked, steps approached; Uarda
lifted herself up and said:

"Grandmother, it is the priest Pentaur."

"Who told you?" asked the old woman.

"I know it," answered the girl decidedly, and in a few moments a
sonorous voice cried: "Good day to you. How is your invalid?"

Pentaur was soon standing by Uarda; pleased to hear Nebsecht's good
report, and with the sweet face of the girl. He had some flowers in his
hand, that a happy