"If the God of my fathers has touched thy heart," said Miriam in her pathetic voice, "help me to hide the body in the garden there--he has long since dug his own grave near Sarah, my mother--with his face to the east."
"It shall be done," said the Bajuvar, and obeyed her.
She carried the head, he the knees of the corpse. A few steps took them into the little garden; there, under a weeping-willow, lay a stone; the man pushed it away, and they laid the corpse in the grave, with its face to the east.
Miriam looked into the grave without a word, without a tear; she felt so forsaken, so lonely. The Bajuvar softly pushed the stone back into its place, filled with compassion.
"Come!" he said.
"Whither?" asked Miriam in a low voice.
"Well, whither wilt thou go?"
"I do not know. I thank thee," she said, and took an amulet from her neck and gave it to him. It was made of gold, a coin from the Jordan, from the Temple.
"No!" said the man, and shook his head.
He took her hand, and pressed it to his eyes.