anger had vanished from his well-cut features. He rubbed his wrist,
which had been squeezed by Pentaur's iron fingers, and said in a tone
which betrayed all the bitterness of his feelings:

"Thy hand is hard, Priest, and thy words hit like the strokes of a
hammer. This fair lady is good and loving, and I know; that she did not
drive her horse intentionally over this poor girl, who is my grandchild
and not my daughter. If she were thy wife or the wife of the leech
there, or the child of the poor woman yonder, who supports life by
collecting the feet and feathers of the fowls that are slaughtered for
sacrifice, I would not only forgive her, but console her for having made
herself like to me; fate would have made her a murderess without any
fault of her own, just as it stamped me as unclean while I was still at
my mother's breast. Aye--I would comfort her; and yet I am not very
sensitive. Ye holy three of Thebes!--[The triad of Thebes: Anion, Muth
and Chunsu.]--how should I be? Great and small get out of my way that I
may not touch them, and every day when I have done what it is my business
to do they throw stones at me.

[The paraschites, with an Ethiopian knife, cuts the flesh of the
corpse as deeply as the law requires: but instantly takes to flight,
while the relatives of the deceased pursue him with stones, and
curses, as if they wished to throw the blame on him.]

"The fulfilment of duty--which brings a living to other men, which makes
their happiness, and at the same time earns them honor, brings me every
day fresh disgrace and painful sores. But I complain to no man, and must
forgive--forgive--forgive, till at last all that men do to me seems quite
natural and unavoidable, and I take it all like the scorching of the sun
in summer, and the dust that the west wind blows into my face. It does