king for the next; in
truth she was ready to believe that, when Mena learned from Rameri that
she was with the princess, he himself would come to fetch them if his
duties allowed it. In her hours of most lively expectation she could go
so far as to picture how the party in the tents would be divided, and
who would bear Bent-Anat company if Mena took her with him to his camp,
on what spot of the oasis it would be best to pitch it, and much more in
the same vein.

Uarda could very well take her place with Bent-Anat, for the child
had developed and improved on the journey. The rich clothes which the
princess had given her became her as if she had never worn any others;
she could obey discreetly, disappear at the right moment, and, when she
was invited, chatter delightfully. Her laugh was silvery, and nothing
consoled Bent-Anat so much as to hear it.

Her songs too pleased the two friends, though the few that she knew were
grave and sorrowful. She had learned them by listening to old Hekt, who
often used to play on a lute in the dusk, and who, when she perceived
that Uarda caught the melodies, had pointed out her faults, and given
her advice.

"She may some day come into my hands," thought the witch, "and the
better she sings, the better she will be paid."

Bent-Anat too tried to teach Uarda, but learning to read was not easy to
the girl, however much pains she might take. Nevertheless, the princess
would not give up the spelling, for here, at the foot of the immense
sacred mountain at whose summit she gazed with mixed horror and longing,
she was condemned to inactivity, which weighed the more heavily on her
in proportion as those feelings had to be kept to herself which she
longed to escape from in work. Uarda knew the origin of her mistress's
deep grief, and revered her for it, as if it were something sacred.
Often she would speak of Pentaur and of his father, and always in such a
manner that the princess could not guess that she knew of their love.

When the prisoners were passing Bent-Anat's tent, she was sitting within
with Nefert, and talking, as had become habitual in the hours of dusk,
of her father, of Mena, Rameri, and Pentaur.

"He is still alive," asserted Nefert. "My mother, you see, says that no
one knows with certainty what became of him. If he escaped, he beyond
a doubt tried to reach the king's camp, and when we get there you will
find him with your father."

The princess looked sadly at the ground