“The fairest memory of your life must surely be that of the sweet child whose face, as you once confessed to me, first opened your soul to the sense of beauty, and whom with your own hands you snatched from death at the cost of your own life. You know Uarda has found her own relatives and is happy, and she is very grateful to her preserver, and would like to see him once more before she goes far away with her grandfather.”
The sick man hesitated before he answered softly:
“Let her come—but I will look at her from a distance.”
Pentaur went out and soon returned with Uarda, who remained standing with glowing cheeks and tears in her eyes at the door of the tent. The leech looked at her a long time with an imploring and tender expression, then he said:
“Accept my thanks—and be happy.”
The girl would have gone up to him to take his hand, but he waved her off with his right hand enveloped in wrappings.
“Come no nearer,” he said, “but stay a moment longer. You have tears in your eyes; are they for me or only for my pain?”
“For you, good noble man! my friend and my preserver!” said Uarda. “For you dear, poor Nebsecht!” The leech closed his eyes as she spoke these words with earnest feeling, but he looked up once more as she ceased speaking, and gazed at her with tender admiration; then he said softly:
“It is enough—now I can die.”
Uarda left the tent, Pentaur remained with him listening to his hoarse and difficult breathing; suddenly: