r had even
been forbidden to concern themselves about the pursuits of its
inhabitants; since, though for centuries it had belonged to a family of
seafaring folk who were suspected of piracy, it had received, two
generations ago, from Alexander the Great himself, the right of asylum,
because its owner, in those days, had commanded a little fleet which
proved extremely useful to the conqueror of the world in the siege of
Gaza and during the expedition to Egypt. True, under the reign of Ptolemy
I, the owners of the Owl's Nest were on the point of being deprived of
this favour, because they were repeatedly accused of piracy in distant
seas; but it had not been done. Yet for the past two years an
investigation had threatened Satabus, the distinguished head of the
family, and during this period he, with his ships and his sons, had
avoided Tennis and the Egyptian coast.

The house occupied by the islanders stood on the shore facing the little
city. It had once been a stately building, but now every part of it
seemed to be going to ruin except the central portion, which presented a
less dilapidated appearance than the sorely damaged, utterly neglected
side wings.

The roof of the whole long structure had originally consisted of palm
branches, upon which mud and turf had been piled; but this, too, was now
in repair only on the central building. On the right and left wings the
rain which often falls in the northeastern part of the Nile Delta, near
the sea, had washed off the protecting earth, and the wind had borne it
away as dust.

Once the house had been spacious enough to shelter a numerous family and
to store a great quantity of goods and provisions, but it was now long
since the ruinous chambers had been occupied. Smoke rose only from the
opening in the roof of the main building, but its slender column showed
from what a very scanty fire it ascended.

The purpose which this was to serve was readily discovered, for in front
of the open door of the dwelling, that seemed far too large and on
account of the pillars at the entrance, which supported a triangular
pediment--also too stately for its sole occupant, sat an old woman,
plucking three ducks.

In front of her a girl, paying no heed to her companion, stood leaning
against the trunk of the low, wide-branching sycamore tree near the
shore. A narrow boat, now concealed from view by the dense growth of
rushes, had brought her to the spot.

The beautiful, motherless youn