A great despair
seized him; he called on God in his anguish, and the silence of the
desert terrified him. In a fit of desolate anger he pulled off his cap,
and summoned all the saints, Christ, and God Himself, to enter it, and
then trampled on it, laughing wildly. Then he flung himself upon the
sand, his head still left bare to the pitiless sun. He knew the end had
come, but there was not any regret in his heart for his crimes, only
an impotent dismay and anger at his solitary condition. The thirst
increased every minute, and he gripped the sand with his fingers in his
agony. His last word was an oath.
At sunset he was dead.
Two days later Madam Marx left Alexandria by train for Ramleh. There was
no evidence against her, and she had soon been released. Her own trouble
scarcely disconcerted her; she had feared only for the Greek in the
desert. The thought of his agony, his hunger, goaded her nearly to
madness; but she was a little comforted when she remembered the eggs.
There was enough water in them to last him two or three days. It was the
hour of sunset when she arrived, and she instantly set out desertward,
carrying a basket containing wine and food.
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