"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.

"He must have had too much wine down at the feast," said Rameri laughing.