nd the shadow of the snow-white dove when she wings her way
back to happiness." Just for a moment the Arab looked into the eyes of
the woman, as, greatly daring, she lifted her right hand.

"For so it is written, O! my lord! the blessing of Allah is upon thee,
and thy heart shall be at rest."

CHAPTER XLVII

The day following the native woman's surreptitious visit to the great
Arab saw Jill and Mary and Jack, followed discreetly by the same native
woman, set sail at an early, gay and blithesome hour for Denderah,
where are to be seen the ruins of the Temple of Hathor, the Venus of
Ancient Egypt.

Upon arriving, after much dallying on the way, Jill insisted upon
walking along the narrow tracks through the stretches of corn and
sweet-smelling flowering bean, among which, to the general horror,
cattle ranging from cows to goats were allowed to roam at will.

A temple of love calls up visions of marble halls, marble fretwork,
basins with splashing waters and marble doves, pillars crowned with
intertwined marble hearts and lovers' knots tied with marble ribbons;
therefore Jill stood transfixed as she entered the great hall of
columns, with the goddess's somewhat forbidding head carved on each
side of each pillar.

She walked across slowly to peer into the inner court, shrouded in deep
shadows, shuddered and moved back towards the other two, whose
mentality, psychology or temperament responded not in the least to
light and shade.

Together they traversed the place, Jill running her hand over the
hieroglyphics which cover the pillars to their beautiful capitals,
until she stopped before a representation of Hathor the wanton,
standing naked and verily unashamed before the image of a man, whose
name I know not, but whose beauty and nudity are as great as hers.

Turning sharply she glanced hurriedly at Jack and Mary, and slipping a
hand through the arm of each, almost pulled them across the floor to a
stairway made in the wall and leading to the roof.

For, taken up in their own love story, those two had noticed nothing,
not even the uncountable figures of stone in the bas-reliefs which,
appearing to turn and whisper to each other, seem in the shadows to
take a delight in portraying by pantomimic gestures a love wholly
allied to voluptuousness and license.

But Jill had seen, and her ultra fastidiousness had dyed face and neck
crimson, and caused her to try and spare her companions similar
uncomfortable moment