"Nay, except to bid thee take care of thyself, Kenkenes," she faltered, "more for thine own sake than for mine."
He returned and, on his knee, pressed her hand to his lips.
"God's face light thee and His peace attend thee," she continued. The blessing was full of wondrous tenderness and music. He knew how her face looked above him; how the free hand all but rested on his head, and for a moment his fortitude seemed about to desert him. But she whispered:
"Farewell."
And he arose and went forth.
[1] The tombs of the Orient in ancient times were common places of refuge for fugitives, lepers and outcasts.
CHAPTER XXI
ON THE WAY TO THEBES
The moon was ampler and its light stronger. The Nile was a vast and faintly silvered expanse, roughened with countless ripples blown opposite the direction of the current. The north wind had risen and swept through the crevice between the hills with more than usual strength, adding its reedy music to the sound of the swiftly flowing waters.
After launching his bari, Kenkenes gazed a moment, and then, with a prayer to Ptah for aid, struck out for the south, rowing with powerful strokes.