The soldier turned his head as soon as the attendant had passed and gazed at the litters.
The Hebrew bearers of the foremost were four in number, dressed in the garb of serving-men to noble Israel. The hangings of blue linen had been thrust aside and within was the semi-recumbent figure of a woman. One knee was drawn up, the hands clasped behind the head, but the majesty of the august countenance belied the youth of the posture. The eyes of the woman met those of the Egyptian and lighted with recognition. She lowered her arms and crossed the left to the shoulder of the right. It was the old attitude of deference from Israel to Atsu. A dusky red dyed the man's cheeks and he touched his knee in response.
The litter of Miriam passed.
The next was a light frame of jungle bamboo, borne by a pair of young men. Its sides were latticed, with the exception of two small window-like openings on either side. These were hung with white linen, but the drapings had been put aside to admit the morning air.
The soldier looked and the shock of recognition drew him a pace away from the stela.
The head of a young girl, partly turned from him, was framed in the small window. The wimple had been thrown back and a single tress of golden hair had escaped across the forehead. The countenance was unhappy, but beautiful for all its misery. The lids were heavy, as if weighted down with sorrow; the cheeks were pallid, the lips colorless and pathetically drooped. A white hand, resting on the slight frame of the small opening, was tightly clenched.
The picture was one of weary despair.
The soldier, blanched and shaken, took a step forward as if to speak, but some realization brought him back to rigid attention against the stela.
The light litter passed on.
The regular tread of the men grew fainter and fainter and silence settled again about the well.