very sweetly, Nubian songs
melancholy and wild, whereof few could understand the meaning. So well
did they sing, indeed, that when they had done, Neter-Tua said:

"You have pleased me much, and in payment I give you a royal gift. I
give you your freedom, and appoint that henceforth you shall sing before
the Court, if you think fit to stay here, not as slaves but for hire."

Then the two women prostrated themselves again before her Majesty and
blessed her, for they knew that they could earn wealth by their gift,
and the rich courtiers taking the Queen's cue, flung rings and ornaments
to them, so that in a minute they got more gold than ever they had
dreamed of, who were but kidnapped slaves. But Prince Amathel grew angry
and said:

"Some might have been pleased to keep the priceless gift of the best
singers in the world."

"Do you say that these sweet-voiced women are the best singers in the
world, O Prince?" asked Tua, speaking to him for the first time. "Now
if you will be pleased to listen, you provoke me to make trial of my own
small skill that I may learn how far I fall short of 'the best singers
in the world.'"

Then she lifted up the ivory harp with the strings of gold and swept
her fingers over it, trying its notes and adjusting them with the agate
screws, looking at Amathel all the while with a challenge in her lovely
eyes.

"Nay, nay, my daughter," said Pharaoh, "it is scarcely fitting that a
queen of Egypt should sing before all this noble company."

"Why not, my father?" she asked. "To-night we all do honour to the heir
of his Majesty of Kesh. Pharaoh receives him, Pharaoh's daughter accepts
his gifts, the highest in the land surround him," then she paused and
added slowly, "one of blood more ancient than his own waits on him as
cup-bearer, one whose race built up the throne his father fills," and
she pointed to Rames, who stood near by holding the vase of wine. "Why,
then, should not Egypt's queen seek to please our royal guest as best
she may--since she has no other gift to give him?"

Then in the dead silence which followed this bold speech, whereof none
could mistake the meaning, Neter-Tua, Morning Star of Amen, rose from
her seat. Pressing the ivory harp against her young breast, she
bent over it, her head crowned with the crown of Upper Egypt whereon
glistened the royal _uraeus_, a snake about to strike, and swept the
well-tuned strings.

Such magic was in her touch that instantly all else w