He was a very strange man, apparently of great age,
for his long white hair fell down upon his shoulders, and his white
beard reached to his middle. Once he must have been very tall, but now
he was bent with age, and the bones of his gaunt frame thrust out his
ragged garments. His dark eyes also were horny, indeed it seemed as
though he could scarcely see with them, for he leaned forward to peer at
their faces where they lay. His face was scored by a thousand wrinkles,
and almost black with exposure to the sun and wind, but yet of a
marvellous tenderness and beauty. Indeed, except that it was far more
ancient, and the features were on a larger and a grander scale, it
reminded Tua of the face of Pharaoh after he was dead.
"My Father," said Tua, sitting up, for an impulse prompted her to name
this wanderer thus, "say whence do you come, and what would you with
your servants?"
"My Daughter," answered the old man in a sweet, grave voice, "I come
from the wilderness which is my home. Long have I outlived all those of
my generation, yes, and their children also.
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