The princess unwillingly yielded, but it would in any case have been difficult to reach the river while every one was rushing in the opposite direction; so the two ladies, and Rameri, let themselves be carried along by the crowd, and by the time the daylight was gone, they found themselves in the western valley, where to-night no beasts of prey dared show themselves; jackals and hyenas had fled before the glare of the torches, and the lanterns made of colored papyrus.
The smoke of the torches mingled with the dust stirred by a thousand feet, and the procession moved along, as it were, in a cloud, which also shrouded the multitude that followed.
The three companions had labored on as far as the hovel of the paraschites Pinem, but here they were forced to pause, for guards drove back the crowd to the right and left with long staves, to clear a passage for the procession as it approached.
"See, Rameri," said Bent-Anat, pointing out the little yard of the hut which stood only a few paces from them.

"That is where the fair, white girl lives, whom I ran over.

But she is much better.

Turn round; there, behind the thorn-hedge, by the little fire which shines full in your (her?
D.W.) face--there she sits, with her grandfather." The prince stood on tip-toe, looked into the humble plot of ground, and then said in a subdued voice "What a lovely creature! But what is she doing with the old man?
He seems to be praying, and she first holds a handkerchief before his mouth, and then rubs his temples.

And how unhappy she looks!" "The paraschites must be ill," replied Bent-Anat.