but hoping for future victory. As she turned to go to the
cabin, a veiled girl stepped up to her, took the veil from her face, and
said: "Pardon me, princess; I am Uarda, whom thou didst run over, and to
whom thou hast since been so good. My grandmother is dead, and I am quite
alone. I slipped in among thy maid-servants, for I wish to follow thee,
and to obey all thy commands. Only do not send me away."

"Stay, dear child," said the princess, laying her hand on her hair.

Then, struck by its wonderful beauty, she remembered her brother, and his
wish to place a rose in Uarda's shining tresses.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Two months had past since Bent-Anat's departure from Thebes, and the
imprisonment of Pentaur. Ant-Baba is the name of the valley, in the
western half of the peninsula of Sinai,

[I have described in detail the peninsula of Sinai, its history, and
the sacred places on it, in my book "Durch Gosen zum Sinai,"
published in 1872. In depicting this scenery in the present
romance, I have endeavored to reproduce the reality as closely as
possible. He who has wandered through this wonderful mountain
wilderness can never forget it. The valley now called "Laba," bore
the same name in the time of the Pharaohs.]

through which a long procession of human beings, and of beasts of burden,
wended their way.

It was winter, and yet the mid-day sun sent down glowing rays, which were
reflected from the naked rocks. In front of the caravan marched a company
of Libyan soldiers, and another brought up the rear. Each man was armed
with a dagger and battle-axe, a shield and a lance, and was ready to use
his weapons; for those whom they were escorting were prisoners from the
emerald-mines, who had been convoyed to the shores of the Red Sea to
carry thither the produce of the mines, and had received, as a
return-load, provisions which had arrived from Egypt, and which were to
be carried to the storehouses of the mountain mines. Bent and panting,
they made their way along. Each prisoner had a copper chain riveted round
his ankles, and torn rags hanging round their loins, were the only
clothing of these unhappy beings, who, gasping under the weight of the
sacks they had to carry, kept their staring eyes fixed on the ground. If
one of them threatened to sink altogether under his burden, he was
refreshed by the whip of one of the horsemen, who accompanied the
caravan. Many a one found it hard to choose whether h