of wild beasts, or of men who are worse than beasts."

Then she sobbed, knelt down on a great bundle which I saw was stubble
straw, and again began to pray. This time it was in Egyptian, as though
she feared lest the Hebrew should be overheard and understood.

"O God," she said, "O God of my fathers, help my poor heart, help my
poor heart!"

We were about to withdraw, or rather to ask her what she ailed, when
suddenly she turned her head, so that the light fell full upon her
face. So lovely was it that I caught my breath and the Prince at my side
started. Indeed it was more than lovely, for as a lamp shines through an
alabaster vase or a shell of pearl so did the spirit within this woman
shine through her tear-stained face, making it mysterious as the night.
Then I understood, perhaps for the first time, that it is the spirit
which gives true beauty both to maid and man and not the flesh. The
white vase of alabaster, however shapely, is still a vase alone; it
is the hidden lamp within that graces it with the glory of a star. And
those eyes, those large, dreaming eyes aswim with tears and hued
like richest lapis-lazuli, oh! what man could look on them and not be
stirred?

"Merapi!" I whispered.

"Moon of Israel!" murmured Seti, "filled with the moon, lovely as the
moon, mystic as the moon and worshipping the moon, her mother."

"She is in trouble; let us help her," I said.

"Nay, wait a while, Ana, for never again shall you and I see such a
sight as this."

Low as we spoke beneath our breath, I think the lady heard us. At least
her face changed and grew frightened. Hastily she rose, lifted the great
bundle of straw upon which she had been kneeling and placed it on her
head. She ran a few steps, then stumbled and sank down with a little
moan of pain. In an instant we were at her side. She stared at us
affrighted, for who we were she could not see because of the wide
hoods of our common cloaks that made us look like midnight thieves, or
slave-dealing Bedouin.

"Oh! Sirs," she babbled, "harm me not. I have nothing of value on me
save this amulet."

"Who are you and what do you here?" asked the Prince disguising his
voice.

"Sirs, I am Merapi, the daughter of Nathan the Levite, he whom the
accursed Egyptian captain, Khuaka, murdered at Tanis."

"How do you dare to call the Egyptians accursed?" asked Seti in tones
made gruff to hide his laughter.

"Oh! Sirs, because they are--I mean because I thought you were