For three whole days he had not changed his garments, no razor had touched his chin or his scalp, not a drop of water had wetted his hands or his feet.

He felt half bewildered and almost as if he had already become an embalmer, nay even a paraschites, one of the most despised of human beings.

This self-degradation had an infinite charm, for it brought him down to the level of Uarda, and she, lying near him, sick and anxious, with her dishevelled hair, exactly suited the future which he painted to himself.
"Do you hear nothing ?" Uarda asked suddenly.

He listened.

In the valley there was a barking of dogs, and soon the paraschites and his wife appeared, and, at the door of their hut, took leave of old Hekt, who had met them on her return from Thebes.
"You have been gone a long time," cried Uarda, when her grandmother once more stood before her.