Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  Two months had past since Bent-Anat's departure from Thebes, and theimprisonment of Pentaur. Ant-Baba is the name of the valley, in thewestern half of the peninsula of Sinai,

  [I have described in detail the peninsula of Sinai, its history, and the sacred places on it, in my book "Durch Gosen zum Sinai," published in 1872. In depicting this scenery in the present romance, I have endeavored to reproduce the reality as closely as possible. He who has wandered through this wonderful mountain wilderness can never forget it. The valley now called "Laba," bore the same name in the time of the Pharaohs.]

  through which a long procession of human beings, and of beasts ofburden, wended their way.

  It was winter, and yet the mid-day sun sent down glowing rays, whichwere reflected from the naked rocks. In front of the caravan marched acompany of Libyan soldiers, and another brought up the rear. Each manwas armed with a dagger and battle-axe, a shield and a lance, andwas ready to use his weapons; for those whom they were escorting wereprisoners from the emerald-mines, who had been convoyed to the shores ofthe Red Sea to carry thither the produce of the mines, and had received,as a return-load, provisions which had arrived from Egypt, and whichwere to be carried to the storehouses of the mountain mines. Bent andpanting, they made their way along. Each prisoner had a copper chainriveted round his ankles, and torn rags hanging round their loins, werethe only clothing of these unhappy beings, who, gasping under the weightof the sacks they had to carry, kept their staring eyes fixed on theground. If one of them threatened to sink altogether under his burden,he was refreshed by the whip of one of the horsemen, who accompanied thecaravan. Many a one found it hard to choose whether he could best endurethe suffering of mere endurance, or the torture of the lash.

  No one spoke a word, neither the prisoners nor their guards; and eventhose who were flogged did not cry out, for their powers were exhausted,and in the souls of their drivers there was no more impulse of pitythan there was a green herb on the rocks by the way. This melancholyprocession moved silently onwards, like a procession of phantoms, andthe ear was only made aware of it when now and then a low groan brokefrom one of the victims.

  The sandy path, trodden by their naked feet, gave no sound, themountains seemed to withhold their shade, the light of clay was atorment--every thing far and near seemed inimical to the living. Not aplant, not a creeping thing, showed itself against the weird formsof the barren grey and brown rocks, and no soaring bird tempted theoppressed wretches to raise their eyes to heaven.

  In the noontide heat of the previous day they had started with theirloads from the harbor-creek. For two hours they had followed the shoreof the glistening, blue-green sea,

  [The Red Sea--in Hebrew and Coptic the reedy sea--is of a lovely blue green color. According to the Ancients it was named red either from its red banks or from the Erythraeans, who were called the red people. On an early inscription it is called "the water of the Red country." See "Durch Gosen zum Sinai."]

  then they had climbed a rocky shoulder and crossed a small plateau. Theyhad paused for their night's rest in the gorge which led to the mines;the guides and soldiers lighted fires, grouped themselves round them,and lay down to sleep under the shelter of a cleft in the rocks; theprisoners stretched themselves on the earth in the middle of thevalley without any shelter, and shivering with the cold which suddenlysucceeded the glowing heat of the day. The benumbed wretches now lookedforward to the crushing misery of the morning's labor as eagerly as, afew hours since, they had longed for the night, and for rest.

  Lentil-broth and hard bread in abundance, but a very small quantity ofwater was given to them before they started; then they set out throughthe gorge, which grew hotter and hotter, and through ravines where theycould pass only one by one. Every now and then it seemed as if thepath came to an end, but each time it found an outlet, and went on--asendless as the torment of the wayfarers.

  Mighty walls of rock composed the view, looking as if they were formedof angular masses of hewn stone piled up in rows; and of all theminers one, and one only, had eyes for these curious structures of theever-various hand of Nature.

  This one had broader shoulders than his companions, and his burdenWeighed on him comparatively lightly. "In this solitude," thought he,"which repels man, and forbids his passing his life here, the Chnemu,the laborers who form the world, have spared themselves the trouble offilling up the seams, and rounding off the corners. How is it that Manshould have dedicated this hideous land--in which even the human heartseems to be hardened against all pity--to the merciful Hathor? Perhapsbecause it so sorely stands in need of the joy and peace which theloving goddess alone can bestow."

  "Keep the line, Huni!" shouted a driver.

  The man thus addressed, closed up to the next man, the panting leechNebsecht. We know the other stronger prisoner. It is Pentaur, who hadbeen entered as Huni on the lists of mine-laborers, and was called bythat name. The file moved on; at every step the ascent grew more rugged.Red and black fragments of stone, broken as small as if by the hand ofman, lay in great heaps, or strewed the path which led up the almostperpendicular cliff by imperceptible degrees. Here another gorge openedbefore them, and this time there seemed to be no outlet.

  "Load the asses less!" cried the captain of the escort to the prisoners.Then he turned to the soldiers, and ordered them, when the beasts wereeased, to put the extra burthens on the men. Putting forth theirutmost strength, the overloaded men labored up the steep and hardlydistinguishable mountain path.

  The man in front of Pentaur, a lean old man, when half way up thehill-side, fell in a heap under his load, and a driver, who in a narrowdefile could not reach the bearers, threw a stone at him to urge him toa renewed effort.

  The old man cried out at the blow, and at the cry--the paraschitesstricken down with stones--his own struggle with the mob--and theappearance of Bent Anat flashed into Pentaur's memory. Pity and a senseof his own healthy vigor prompted him to energy; he hastily snatched thesack from the shoulders of the old man, threw it over his own, helped upthe fallen wretch, and finally men and beasts succeeded in mounting therocky wall.

  The pulses throbbed in Pentaur's temples, and he shuddered with horror,as he looked down from the height of the pass into the abyss below, andround upon the countless pinnacles and peaks, cliffs and precipices,in many-colored rocks-white and grey, sulphurous yellow, blood-red andominous black. He recalled the sacred lake of Muth in Thebes, roundwhich sat a hundred statues of the lion-headed Goddess in black basalt,each on a pedestal; and the rocky peaks, which surrounded the valleyat his feet, seemed to put on a semblance of life and to move andopen their yawning jaws; through the wild rush of blood in his ears hefancied he heard them roar, and the load beyond his strength which hecarried gave him a sensation as though their clutch was on his breast.

  Nevertheless he reached the goal.

  The other prisoners flung their loads from their shoulders, and threwthemselves down to rest. Mechanically he did the same: his pulses beatmore calmly, by degrees the visions faded from his senses, he saw andheard once more, and his brain recovered its balance. The old man andNebsecht were lying beside him.

  His grey-haired companion rubbed the swollen veins in his neck, andcalled down all the blessings of the Gods upon his head; but the captainof the caravan cut him short, exclaiming:

  "You have strength for three, Huni; farther on, we will load you moreheavily."

  "How much the kindly Gods care for our prayers for the blessing ofothers!" exclaimed Nebsecht. "How well they know how to reward a goodaction!"

  "I am rewarded enough," said Pentaur, looking kindly at the old man."But you, you everlasting scoffer--you look pale. How do you feel?"

  "As if I were one of those donkeys there," replied the naturalist. "Myknees shake like theirs, and I think and I wish neither more nor lessthan they do; that is to say--I would we were in our stalls."

  "If you can think," said Pentaur smiling, "you are not so very b
ad."

  "I had a good thought just now, when you were staring up into the sky.The intellect, say the priestly sages, is a vivifying breath of theeternal spirit, and our soul is the mould or core for the mass of matterwhich we call a human being. I sought the spirit at first in the heart,then in the brain; but now I know that it resides in the arms and legs,for when I have strained them I find thought is impossible. I am tootired to enter on further evidence, but for the future I shall treat mylegs with the utmost consideration."

  "Quarrelling again you two? On again, men!" cried the driver.

  The weary wretches rose slowly, the beasts were loaded, and on went thepitiable procession, so as to reach the mines before sunset.

  The destination of the travellers was a wide valley, closed in by twohigh and rocky mountain-slopes; it was called Ta Mafka by the Egyptians,Dophka by the Hebrews. The southern cliff-wall consisted of darkgranite, the northern of red sandstone; in a distant branch of thevalley lay the mines in which copper was found. In the midst of thevalley rose a hill, surrounded by a wall, and crowned with small stonehouses, for the guard, the officers, and the overseers. According to theold regulations, they were without roofs, but as many deaths and muchsickness had occurred among the workmen in consequence of the coldnights, they had been slightly sheltered with palm-branches brought fromthe oasis of the Alnalckites, at no great distance.

  On the uttermost peak of the hill, where it was most exposed to thewind, were the smelting furnaces, and a manufactory where a peculiargreen glass was prepared, which was brought into the market under thename of Mafkat, that is to say, emerald. The genuine precious stone wasfound farther to the south, on the western shore of the Red Sea, and washighly prized in Egypt.

  Our friends had already for more than a month belonged to themining-community of the Mafkat valley, and Pentaur had never learnedhow it was that he had been brought hither with his companion Nebsecht,instead of going to the sandstone quarries of Chennu.

  That Uarda's father had effected this change was beyond a doubt, and thepoet trusted the rough but honest soldier who still kept near him, andgave him credit for the best intentions, although he had only spoken tohim once since their departure from Thebes.

  That was the first night, when he had come up to Pentaur, and whispered:"I am looking after you. You will find the physician Nebsecht here; buttreat each other as enemies rather than as friends, if you do not wishto be parted."

  Pentaur had communicated the soldier's advice to Nebsecht, and he hadfollowed it in his own way.

  It afforded him a secret pleasure to see how Pentaur's life contradictedthe belief in a just and beneficent ordering of the destinies of men;and the more he and the poet were oppressed, the more bitter was theirony, often amounting to extravagance, with which the mocking scepticattacked him.

  He loved Pentaur, for the poet had in his keeping the key which alonecould give admission to the beautiful world which lay locked up in hisown soul; but yet it was easy to him, if he thought they were observed,to play his part, and to overwhelm Pentaur with words which, to thedrivers, were devoid of meaning, and which made them laugh by thestrange blundering fashion in which he stammered them out.

  "A belabored husk of the divine self-consciousness." "An advocate ofrighteousness hit on the mouth." "A juggler who makes as much of thisworst of all possible worlds as if it were the best." "An admirer of thelovely color of his blue bruises." These and other terms of invective,intelligible only to himself and his butt, he could always pour out innew combinations, exciting Pentaur to sharp and often witty rejoinders,equally unintelligible to the uninitiated.

  Frequently their sparring took the form of a serious discussion, whichserved a double purpose; first their minds, accustomed to seriousthought, found exercise in spite of the murderous pressure of the burdenof forced labor, and secondly, they were supposed really to be enemies.They slept in the same court-yard, and contrived, now and then, toexchange a few words in secret; but by day Nebsecht worked in theturquoise-diggings, and Pentaur in the mines, for the careful chippingout of the precious stones from their stony matrix was the work bestsuited to the slight physician, while Pentaur's giant-strength wasfitted for hewing the ore out of the hard rock. The drivers often lookedin surprise at his powerful strokes, as he flung his pick against thestone.

  The stupendous images that in such moments of wild energy rose beforethe poet's soul, the fearful or enchanting tones that rang in hisspirit's ear-none could guess at.

  Usually his excited fancy showed him the form of Bent-Anat, surroundedby a host of men--and these he seemed to fell to the earth, one-by-one,as-he hewed the rock. Often in the middle of his work he would stop,throw down his pick-axe, and spread out his arms--but only to drop themwith a deep groan, and wipe the sweat from his brow.

  The overseers did not know what to think of this powerful youth, whooften was as gentle as a child, and then seemed possessed of that demonto which so many of the convicts fell victims. He had indeed become ariddle to himself; for how was it that he--the gardener's son, broughtup in the peaceful temple of Seti--ever since that night by the houseof the paraschites had had such a perpetual craving for conflict andstruggle?

  The weary gangs were gone to rest; a bright fire still blazed in frontof the house of the superintendent of the mines, and round it squattedin a circle the overseers and the subalterns of the troops.

  "Put the wine-jar round again," said the captain, "for we must holdgrave council. Yesterday I had orders from the Regent to send half theguard to Pelusium. He requires soldiers, but we are so few in numberthat if the convicts knew it they might make short work of us, evenwithout arms. There are stones enough hereabouts, and by day they havetheir hammer and chisel. Things are worst among the Hebrews in thecopper-mines; they are a refractory crew that must be held tight. Youknow me well, fear is unknown to me--but I feel great anxiety. The lastfuel is now burning in this fire, and the smelting furnaces and theglass-foundry must not stand idle. Tomorrow we must send men to Raphidim

  [The oasis at the foot of Horeb, where the Jews under Joshua's command conquered the Amalekites, while Aaron and Hur held up Moses' arms. Exodus 17, 8.]

  to obtain charcoal from the Amalekites. They owe us a hundred loadsstill. Load the prisoners with some copper, to make them tired and thenatives civil. What can we do to procure what we want, and yet not toweaken the forces here too much?"

  Various opinions were given, and at last it was settled that a smalldivision, guarded by a few soldiers, should be sent out every day tosupply only the daily need for charcoal.

  It was suggested that the most dangerous of the convicts should befettered together in pairs to perform their duties.

  The superintendent was of opinion that two strong men fettered togetherwould be more to be feared if only they acted in concert.

  "Then chain a strong one to a weak one," said the chief accountant ofthe mines, whom the Egyptians called the 'scribe of the metals.' "Andfetter those together who are enemies."

  "The colossal Huni, for instance, to that puny spat row, the stutteringNebsecht," said a subaltern.

  "I was thinking of that very couple," said the accountant laughing.

  Three other couples were selected, at first with some laughter, butfinally with serious consideration, and Uarda's father was sent with thedrivers as an escort.

  On the following morning Pentaur and Nebsecht were fettered togetherwith a copper chain, and when the sun was at its height four pairs ofprisoners, heavily loaded with copper, set out for the Oasis of theAmalekites, accompanied by six soldiers and the son of the paraschites,to fetch fuel for the smelting furnaces.

  They rested near the town of Alus, and then went forward again betweenbare walls of greyish-green and red porphyry. These cliffs rose higherand higher, but from time to time, above the lower range, they could seethe rugged summit of some giant of the range, though, bowed under theirheavy loads, they paid small heed to it.

  The sun was near setting when they reached the little s
anctuary of the'Emerald-Hathor.'

  A few grey and black birds here flew towards them, and Pentaur gazed atthem with delight.

  How long he had missed the sight of a bird, and the sound of their chirpand song! Nebsecht said: "There are some birds--we must be near water."

  And there stood the first palm-tree!

  Now the murmur of the brook was perceptible, and its tiny sound touchedthe thirsty souls of the travellers as rain falls on dry grass.

  On the left bank of the stream an encampment of Egyptian soldiers formeda large semicircle, enclosing three large tents made of costly materialstriped with blue and white, and woven with gold thread. Nothing was tobe seen of the inhabitants of these tents, but when the prisonershad passed them, and the drivers were exchanging greetings with theout-posts, a girl, in the long robe of an Egyptian, came towards them,and looked at them.

  Pentaur started as if he had seen a ghost; but Nebsecht gave expressionto his astonishment in a loud cry.

  At the same instant a driver laid his whip across their shoulders, andcried laughing:

  "You may hit each other as hard as you like with words, but not withyour hands."

  Then he turned to his companions, and said: "Did you see the pretty girlthere, in front of the tent?"

  "It is nothing to us!" answered the man he addressed. "She belongs tothe princess's train. She has been three weeks here on a visit to theholy shrine of Hathor."

  "She must have committed some heavy sin," replied the other. "If shewere one of us, she would have been set to sift sand in the diggings,or grind colors, and not be living here in a gilt tent. Where is ourred-beard?"

  Uarda's father had lingered a little behind the party, for the girl hadsigned to him, and exchanged a few words with him.

  "Have you still an eye for the fair ones?" asked the youngest of thedrivers when he rejoined the gang.

  "She is a waiting maid of the princess," replied the soldier not withoutembarrassment. "To-morrow morning we are to carry a letter from her tothe scribe of the mines, and if we encamp in the neighborhood she willsend us some wine for carrying it."

  "The old red-beard scents wine as a fox scents a goose. Let us encamphere; one never knows what may be picked up among the Mentu, and thesuperintendent said we were to encamp outside the oasis. Put down yoursacks, men! Here there is fresh water, and perhaps a few dates and sweetManna for you to eat with it.

  ["Man" is the name still given by the Bedouins of Sinai to the sweet gum which exudes from the Tamarix mannifera. It is the result of the puncture of an insect, and occurs chiefly in May. By many it is supposed to be the Manna of the Bible.]

  But keep the peace, you two quarrelsome fellows--Huni and Nebsecht."

  Bent-Anat's journey to the Emerald-Hathor was long since ended. As faras Keft she had sailed down the Nile with her escort, from thence shehad crossed the desert by easy marches, and she had been obliged to waita full week in the port on the Red Sea, which was chiefly inhabitedby Phoenicians, for a ship which had finally brought her to the littleseaport of Pharan. From Pharan she had crossed the mountains to theoasis, where the sanctuary she was to visit stood on the northern side.

  The old priests, who conducted the service of the Goddess, had receivedthe daughter of Rameses with respect, and undertook to restore her tocleanness by degrees with the help of the water from the mountain-streamwhich watered the palm-grove of the Amalekites, of incense-burning, ofpious sentences, and of a hundred other ceremonies. At last the Goddessdeclared herself satisfied, and Bent-Anat wished to start for the northand join her father, but the commander of the escort, a grey-headedEthiopian field officer--who had been promoted to a high grade byAni--explained to the Chamberlain that he had orders to detain theprincess in the oasis until her departure was authorized by the Regenthimself.

  Bent-Anat now hoped for the support of her father, for her brotherRameri, if no accident had occurred to him, might arrive any day. But invain.

  The position of the ladies was particularly unpleasant, for they feltthat they had been caught in a trap, and were in fact prisoners. Inaddition to this their Ethiopian escort had quarrelled with thenatives of the oasis, and every day skirmishes took place under theireyes--indeed lately one of these fights had ended in bloodshed.

  Bent-Anat was sick at heart. The two strong pinions of her soul, whichhad always borne her so high above other women--her princely pride andher bright frankness--seemed quite broken; she felt that she had lovedonce, never to love again, and that she, who had sought none of herhappiness in dreams, but all in work, had bestowed the best half of heridentity on a vision. Pentaur's image took a more and more vivid, and atthe same time nobler and loftier, aspect in her mind; but he himself haddied for her, for only once had a letter reached them from Egypt, andthat was from Katuti to Nefert. After telling her that late intelligenceestablished the statement that her husband had taken a prince'sdaughter, who had been made prisoner, to his tent as his share of thebooty, she added the information that the poet Pentaur, who had beencondemned to forced labor, had not reached the mountain mines, but, aswas supposed, had perished on the road.

  Nefert still held to her immovable belief that her husband was faithfulto his love for her, and the magic charm of a nature made beautiful byits perfect mastery over a deep and pure passion made itself felt inthese sad and heavy days.

  It seemed as though she had changed parts with Bent-Anat. Alwayshopeful, every day she foretold help from the king for the next; intruth she was ready to believe that, when Mena learned from Rameri thatshe was with the princess, he himself would come to fetch them if hisduties allowed it. In her hours of most lively expectation she could goso far as to picture how the party in the tents would be divided, andwho would bear Bent-Anat company if Mena took her with him to his camp,on what spot of the oasis it would be best to pitch it, and much more inthe same vein.

  Uarda could very well take her place with Bent-Anat, for the childhad developed and improved on the journey. The rich clothes which theprincess had given her became her as if she had never worn any others;she could obey discreetly, disappear at the right moment, and, when shewas invited, chatter delightfully. Her laugh was silvery, and nothingconsoled Bent-Anat so much as to hear it.

  Her songs too pleased the two friends, though the few that she knew weregrave and sorrowful. She had learned them by listening to old Hekt, whooften used to play on a lute in the dusk, and who, when she perceivedthat Uarda caught the melodies, had pointed out her faults, and givenher advice.

  "She may some day come into my hands," thought the witch, "and thebetter she sings, the better she will be paid."

  Bent-Anat too tried to teach Uarda, but learning to read was not easy tothe girl, however much pains she might take. Nevertheless, the princesswould not give up the spelling, for here, at the foot of the immensesacred mountain at whose summit she gazed with mixed horror and longing,she was condemned to inactivity, which weighed the more heavily on herin proportion as those feelings had to be kept to herself which shelonged to escape from in work. Uarda knew the origin of her mistress'sdeep grief, and revered her for it, as if it were something sacred.Often she would speak of Pentaur and of his father, and always in such amanner that the princess could not guess that she knew of their love.

  When the prisoners were passing Bent-Anat's tent, she was sitting withinwith Nefert, and talking, as had become habitual in the hours of dusk,of her father, of Mena, Rameri, and Pentaur.

  "He is still alive," asserted Nefert. "My mother, you see, says that noone knows with certainty what became of him. If he escaped, he beyonda doubt tried to reach the king's camp, and when we get there you willfind him with your father."

  The princess looked sadly at the ground. Nefert looked affectionately ather, and asked:

  "Are you thinking of the difference in rank which parts you from the manyou have chosen?"

  "The man to whom I offer my hand, I put in the rank of a prince," saidBent-Anat. "But if I could set Pentaur on a throne, as master of
theworld, he would still be greater and better than I."

  "But your father?" asked Nefert doubtfully.

  "He is my friend, he will listen to me and understand me. He shall knoweverything when I see him; I know his noble and loving heart."

  Both were silent for some time; then Bent-Anat spoke:

  "Pray have lights brought, I want to finish my weaving."

  Nefert rose, went to the door of the tent, and there met Uarda; sheseized Nefert's hand, and silently drew her out into the air.

  "What is the matter, child? you are trembling," Nefert exclaimed.

  "My father is here," answered Uarda hastily. "He is escorting someprisoners from the mines of Mafkat. Among them there are two chainedtogether, and one of them--do not be startled--one of them is the poetPentaur. Stop, for God's sake, stop, and hear me. Twice before I haveseen my father when he has been here with convicts. To-day we mustrescue Pentaur; but the princess must know nothing of it, for if my planfails--"

  "Child! girl!" interrupted Nefert eagerly. "How can I help you?"

  "Order the steward to give the drivers of the gang a skin of wine in thename of the princess, and out of Bent-Anat's case of medicines take thephial which contains the sleeping draught, which, in spite of your wish,she will not take. I will wait here, and I know how to use it."

  Nefert immediately found the steward, and ordered him to follow Uardawith a skin of wine. Then she went back to the princess's tent, andopened the medicine case.

  [A medicine case, belonging to a more ancient period than the reign of Rameses, is preserved in the Berlin Museum.]

  "What do you want?" asked Bent-Anat.

  "A remedy for palpitation," replied Nefert; she quietly took the flaskshe needed, and in a few minutes put it into Uarda's hand.

  The girl asked the steward to open the wine-skin, and let her taste theliquor. While she pretended to drink it, she poured the whole contentsof the phial into the wine, and then let Bent-Anat's bountiful presentbe carried to the thirsty drivers.

  She herself went towards the kitchen tent, and found a young Amalekitesitting on the ground with the princess's servants. He sprang up as soonas he saw the damsel.

  "I have brought four fine partridges,"

  [A brook springs on the peak called by the Sinaitic monks Mr. St. Katherine, which is called the partridge's spring, and of which many legends are told. For instance, God created it for the partridges which accompanied the angels who carried St. Katharine of Alexandria to her tomb on Sinai.]

  he said, "which I snared myself, and I have brought this turquoise foryou--my brother found it in a rock. This stone brings good luck, and isgood for the eyes; it gives victory over our enemies, and keeps away baddreams."

  "Thank you!" said Uarda, and taking the boy's hand, as he gave her thesky-blue stone, she led him forward into the dusk.

  "Listen, Salich" she said softly, as soon as she thought they were farenough from the others. "You are a good boy, and the maids told me thatyou said I was a star that had come down from the sky to become a woman.No one says such a thing as that of any one they do not like verymuch; and I know you like me, for you show me that you do every day bybringing me flowers, when you carry the game that your father gets tothe steward. Tell me, will you do me and the princess too a very greatservice? Yes?--and willingly? Yes? I knew you would! Now listen. Afriend of the great lady Bent-Anat, who will come here to-night, mustbe hidden for a day, perhaps several days, from his pursuers. Can he,or rather can they, for there will probably be two, find shelter andprotection in your father's house, which lies high up there on thesacred mountain?"

  "Whoever I take to my father," said the boy, "will be made welcome;and we defend our guests first, and then ourselves. Where are thestrangers?"

  "They will arrive in a few hours. Will you wait here till the moon iswell up?"

  "Till the last of all the thousand moons that vanish behind the hills isset."

  "Well then, wait on the other side of the stream, and conduct the man toyour house, who repeats my name three times. You know my name?"

  "I call you Silver-star, but the others call you Uarda."

  "Lead the strangers to your hut, and, if they are received there by yourfather, come back and tell me. I will watch for you here at the door ofthe tent. I am poor, alas! and cannot reward you, but the princess willthank your father as a princess should. Be watchful, Salich!"

  The girl vanished, and went to the drivers of the gang of prisoners,wished them a merry and pleasant evening, and then hastened back toBent-Anat, who anxiously stroked her abundant hair, and asked her whyshe was so pale.

  "Lie down," said the princess kindly, "you are feverish. Only look,Nefert, I can see the blood coursing through the blue veins in herforehead."

  Meanwhile the drivers drank, praised the royal wine, and the luckyday on which they drank it; and when Uarda's father suggested that theprisoners too should have a mouthful one of his fellow soldiers cried:"Aye, let the poor beasts be jolly too for once."

  The red-beard filled a large beaker, and offered it first to a forgerand his fettered companion, then he approached Pentaur, and whispered:

  "Do not drink any-keep awake!"

  As he was going to warn the physician too, one of his companions camebetween them, and offering his tankard to Nebsecht said:

  "Here mumbler, drink; see him pull! His stuttering mouth is spry enoughfor drinking!"