ooms. In others there were tall obelisks of ebony, which bore saucers
for incense, which all the Egyptians loved, and which was prescribed by
their physicians to purify and perfume their dwellings. Her simple
bedroom would have suited a prince who loved floriculture, quite as well
as a princess.

Before all things Bent-Anat loved air and light. The curtains of her
windows and doors were only closed when the position of the sun
absolutely required it; while in Nefert's rooms, from morning till
evening, a dim twilight was maintained.

The princess went affectionately towards the charioteer's wife, who bowed
low before her at the threshold; she took her chin with her right hand,
kissed her delicate narrow forehead, and said:

"Sweet creature! At last you have come uninvited to see lonely me! It is
the first time since our men went away to the war. If Rameses' daughter
commands there is no escape; and you come; but of your own free will--"

Nefert raised her large eyes, moist with tears, with an imploring look,
and her glance was so pathetic that Bent-Anat interrupted herself, and
taking both her hands, exclaimed:

"Do you know who must have eyes exactly like yours? I mean the Goddess
from whose tears, when they fall on the earth, flowers spring."

Nefert's eyes fell and she blushed deeply.

"I wish," she murmured, "that my eyes might close for ever, for I am very
unhappy." And two large tears rolled down her cheeks.

"What has happened to you, my darling?" asked the princess
sympathetically, and she drew her towards her, putting her arm round her
like a sick child.

Nefert glanced anxiously at the chamberlain, and the ladies in waiting
who had entered the room with her, and Bent-Anat understood the look; she
requested her attendants to withdraw, and when she was alone with her sad
little friend--"Speak now," she said. "What saddens your heart? how comes
this melancholy expression on your dear baby face? Tell me, and I will
comfort you, and you shall be my bright thoughtless plaything once more."

"Thy plaything!" answered Nefert, and a flash of displeasure sparkled in
her eyes. "Thou art right to call me so, for I deserve no better name. I
have submitted all my life to be nothing but the plaything of others."

"But, Nefert, I do not know you again," cried Bent-Anat. "Is this my
gentle amiable dreamer?"

"That is the word I wanted," said Nefert in a low tone. "I slept, and
dreamed, and dreamed on--till Mena awo