rition, and my hair began
to rise upon my head as the feeling crept over me that I was in the
presence of something that was not canny. I could, however, clearly
distinguish that the swathed mummy-like form before me was that of a
tall and lovely woman, instinct with beauty in every part, and also
with a certain snake-like grace which I had never seen anything to
equal before. When she moved a hand or foot her entire frame seemed to
undulate, and the neck did not bend, it curved.

"Why art thou so frightened, stranger?" asked the sweet voice again--a
voice which seemed to draw the heart out of me, like the strains of
softest music. "Is there that about me that should affright a man? Then
surely are men changed from what they used to be!" And with a little
coquettish movement she turned herself, and held up one arm, so as
to show all her loveliness and the rich hair of raven blackness that
streamed in soft ripples down her snowy robes, almost to her sandalled
feet.

"It is thy beauty that makes me fear, oh Queen," I answered humbly,
scarcely knowing what to say, and I thought that as I did so I heard old
Billali, who was still lying prostrate on the floor, mutter, "Good, my
Baboon, good."

"I see that men still know how to beguile us women with false words. Ah,
stranger," she answered, with a laugh that sounded like distant silver
bells, "thou wast afraid because mine eyes were searching out thine
heart, therefore wast thou afraid. Yet being but a woman, I forgive thee
for the lie, for it was courteously said. And now tell me how came ye
hither to this land of the dwellers among the caves--a land of swamps
and evil things and dead old shadows of the dead? What came ye for to
see? How is it that ye hold your lives so cheap as to place
them in the hollow of the hand of _Hiya_, into the hand of
'_She-who-must-be-obeyed_'? Tell me also how come ye to know the tongue
I talk. It is an ancient tongue, that sweet child of the old Syriac.
Liveth it yet in the world? Thou seest I dwell among the caves and the
dead, and naught know I of the affairs of men, nor have I cared to know.
I have lived, O stranger, with my memories, and my memories are in a
grave that mine hands hollowed, for truly hath it been said that
the child of man maketh his own path evil;" and her beautiful voice
quivered, and broke in a note as soft as any wood-bird's. Suddenly
her eye fell upon the sprawling frame of Billali, and she seemed to
recollect herse