gh for that
matter she certainly is not my first."

On the following day the princess set out.

Ani took leave of her with kindly formality, which she returned with
coolness. The priesthood of the temple of Amon, with old Bek en Chunsu
at their head, escorted her to the harbor. The people on the banks
shouted Bent-Anat's name with a thousand blessings, but many insulting
words were to be heard also.

The pilgrim's Nile-boat was followed by two others, full of soldiers,
who accompanied the ladies "to protect them."

The south-wind filled the sails, and carried the little procession
swiftly down the stream. The princess looked now towards the palace of
her fathers, now towards the tombs and temples of the Necropolis. At
last even the colossus of Anienophis disappeared, and the last houses
of Thebes. The brave maiden sighed deeply, and tears rolled down her
checks. She felt as if she were flying after a lost battle, and yet not
wholly discouraged, 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
compa