"It shall not keep thee from thy labor," he added persuasively.
The color deepened and she made a motion of dissent.
"Nay! thou dost not refuse me!" he exclaimed, his astonishment evident in his voice.
"Of a surety," she replied. "Give me my burden, I pray thee."
Dumb with amazement, too genuine to contain any anger, Kenkenes obeyed. As she went up the shady gorge, walking unsteadily under the heavy pitcher, he stood looking after her in eloquent silence.
And in eloquent silence he turned at last and continued down the valley. There was nothing to be said. His appreciation of his own discomfiture was too large for any expression.
In a few steps he met the short captain who governed the quarries. Kenkenes guessed his office by his dress. He was adorned in festal trappings, for he had spent most of the day in revel across the Nile.
"Dost thou know Rachel, the Israelitish maiden?" Kenkenes asked, planting himself in the man's way.
"The yellow-haired Judahite?" the man inquired, a little surprised.
"Even so," was the reply.