the golden tangle, and at last laid two thick long plaits on her
granddaughter's shoulders.

Nebsecht knew that every movement of the wounded girl might do mischief,
and his impulse was to stop the old woman's proceedings, but his tongue
seemed spell-bound. Surprised, motionless, and with crimson cheeks, he
stood opposite the girl, and his eyes followed every movement of her
hands with anxious observation.

She did not notice him.

When the old woman laid down the comb Uarda drew a long breath.

"Grandmother," she said, "give me the mirror." The old woman brought a
shard of dimly glazed, baked clay. The girl turned to the light,
contemplated the undefined reflection for a moment, and said:

"I have not seen a flower for so long, grandmother."

"Wait, child," she replied; she took from a jug the rose, which the
princess had laid on the bosom of her grandchild, and offered it to her.
Before Uarda could take it, the withered petals fell, and dropped upon
her. The surgeon stooped, gathered them up, and put them into the
child's hand.

"How good you are!" she said; "I am called Uarda--like this flower--and
I love roses and the fresh air. Will you carry me out now?"

Nebsecht called the paraschites, who came into the hut with his son, and
they carried the girl out into the air, and laid her under the humble