help and guidance for which he had been reluctant to ask his ill-tempered
slave, and he soon became accustomed to the simple fare of the nomads.
Bread and milk, fruits and vegetables from his neighbour's little garden,
satisfied him, and when the wine he had drunk was used, he contented
himself, obedient to old Tabus's advice, with pure water.

As he still had several gold coins on his person, and wore two costly
rings on his finger, he doubtless thought of sending to Clysma for meat,
poultry, and wine, but he had refrained from doing so through the advice
of the Amalekite woman, who anointed his eyes with Tabus's salve and
protected them by a shade of fresh leaves from the dazzling rays of the
desert sun. She, like the sorceress on the Owl's Nest, warned him
against all viands that inflamed the blood, and he willingly allowed her
to take away what she and her gray-haired father, the experienced head of
the tribe, pronounced detrimental to his recovery.

At first the "beggar's fare" seemed repulsive, but he soon felt that it
was benefiting him after the riotous life of the last few months.

One day, when the Amalekite took off his bandage, he thought he saw a
faint glimmer of light, and how his heart exulted at this faint foretaste
of the pleasure of sight!

In an instant hope sprang up with fresh power in his excitable soul,
and his lost cheerfulness returned to him like a butterfly to the newly
opened flower. The image of his beloved Daphne rose before him in sunny
radiance, and he saw himself in his studio in the service of his art.

He had always been fond of children, and the little ones in the Amalekite
family quickly discovered this, and crowded around their blind friend,