a similar attitude._

SITSI. Did you not know? She, on whose left hand a black ibis has been
painted, is certain of a happy day.

HANOU. A happy day! Why then, 'tis I, perhaps, who will be chosen
to-night!

DELETHI [_playing the harp while Nagaou dances before her_] More
slowly!--more slowly!... you must make them think of the swaying of a
lotus flower, that the Nile's slow-moving current would bear away, and
that raises itself to kiss again the waters of the stream.

NAGAOU. Yes, yes.... Begin again!

NAHASI [_juggling with oranges_] Nagaou would let herself be borne away
without a struggle. [_She laughs_].

MOUENE [_hopping on one foot_] We know that she goes to the bank of the
Nile, at the hour when the palm-trees grow black against the evening
sky, to listen to a basket maker's songs.

HANOU [_to Sitsinit_] And this morning I anointed my whole body with
Kyphli, mixed with cinnamon and terrabine and myrrh.

DELETHI [_to Nagaou_] 'Tis well ... you may dance the great prayer to
Isis with the rest.

NAGAOU [_to Mouene_] Yes! I do go to listen to songs at dark. You are
still too little for anyone, basket maker or any other, to take notice
of you.

MOUENE. You think so!... who gave me this little bird? [_She draws the
bird from the cage by a string attached to its leg_] Who caught thee,
flower-of-the-air, who gave thee to me? [_Holding up a finger_] Do not
tell! Do not tell....

HANOU [_looking at herself in a metal mirror_] Sitsinit ... the black
line that lengthens this eye is too short ... make it longer with your
reed. I think the more beautiful I am, the more chance I shall have to
be chosen for the sacrifice.... Is it not so, Zaya?... What are you
doing there without a word?

ZAYA. I was watching the flight of a crane with hanging feet, that
melted away in the distant blue of heaven.... Do not hope to be chosen
by the gods, Hanou.

HANOU. Wherefore should I not be chosen?

ZAYA. Neither you nor any who are here. The gods never demand the
sacrifice two years together from the same village.

HANOU. Never?

ZAYA. Rarely.

HANOU. 'Tis a pity. Is it not, Nagaou?

NAGAOU. I know not.

SITSI. Would it not make you proud?

NAGAOU. Yes. But it makes me proud, too, to lean on the breast of him
whose words still the beating of my heart.

DELETHI. To be taken by a god! By the Nile!

HANOU. Preferred to all the others!

MOUENE [_the youngest_] For my part I should prefer to live....

SITSI. S