, where art thou, hen of mine? Thou hast
fled, Thou art gone from me. I give thee drink and clean grain; what I
give is so good that slaves envy thee. Where art Thou gone, my hen wilt
Thou not answer me? Night will come down on thee, think of that; Thou
wilt not reach thy home, where all are at work for thee. Come; if Thou
come not, a falcon will fly from the desert and tear the heart out of
thee. If he come Thou wilt call in vain, as I now call in vain to thee.
Give answer, or I shall be angry and leave this place. If I leave Thou
'It go home on thy own feet."

The song came toward the two men. The songstress was a few yards from
them when Tutmosis thrust, his head from between the bushes, and said,

"Just look, Ramses, but that is a beautiful maiden!"

Instead of looking, the prince sprang into the path and stopped the
road before the songstress. She was really a beautiful maiden, with
Grecian features and a complexion like ivory.

From under the veil on her head peeped forth an immense mass of dark
hair, wound in a knot. She wore a white trailing robe which she held on
one side with her hand; under the transparent covering were maiden
breasts shaped like apples.

"Who art thou?" cried Ramses.

The threatening furrows vanished from his forehead and his eyes
flashed.

"O Jehovah! O Father!" cried she, frightened, halting motionless on the
path.

But she grew calm by degrees, and her velvety eyes resumed their
expression of mild sadness.

"Whence hast Thou come?" inquired she of Ramses, with a voice trembling
a little. "I see that Thou art a soldier, but it is not permitted
soldiers to come here."

"Why is it not permitted?"

"Because this is the land of a great lord named Sesofris."

"Ho! ho!" laughed Ramses.

"Laugh not, for Thou wilt grow pale soon. The lord Sesofris is
secretary to the lord Chaires, who carries his fan for the most worthy
nomarch of Memphis. My father has seen him and fallen on his face
before him."

"Ho! ho! ho!" repeated Ramses, laughing continually.

"Thy words are very insolent," said the maiden, frowning. "Were
kindness not looking from thy face, I should think thee a mercenary
from Greece or a bandit."

"He is not a bandit yet, but some day he may become the greatest bandit
this laud has ever suffered," said Tutmosis the exquisite, arranging
his wig,

"And Thou must be a dancer," answered the girl, grown courageous. "Oh!
I am even certain that I saw thee at the fair in