sharp glance at the speaker. Instantly the old man fell back, saying,
as a sneer of contempt ran through the rabble at the intelligence his
words conveyed: "Anger them not. They have the evil eye."

Kenkenes had guessed the nationality of the strangers immediately, but
had doubted the correctness of his surmise, because of their noble
mien. If he suffered any disappointment in hearing proof of their
identity, it was immediately nullified by the joy his artist-soul took
in the stately Hebrew woman. He forgot the mission that urged him to
the temple and, permitting the shifting, restless crowd to surround
him, he lingered, thinking. This proud disdain must mark his goddess
of stone in the Arabian hills, this majesty and power; but there must
be youth and fire in the place of this ancient calm.

A porter that stood beside him, emboldened by barley beer and the
growing disapproval among the on-lookers, cried:

"Ha! by the rags of my fathers, she outshines her masters, the
brickmaking hag!"

Kenkenes, who towered over the ruffian, became possessed of a sudden
and uncontrollable indignation. He pecked the man on the head with the
knuckle of his forefinger, saying in colloquial Egyptian:

"Hold thy tongue, brawler, nor presume to flout thy betters!"

The stately Israelite, who had taken no notice of any word against her,
now turned her head toward Kenkenes and slowly inspected him. He had
no opportunity to guess whether her gaze was approving, for the crowd
about him, grown weary of waiting, had become quarrelsome and was