coquettish in her perpetual bridal attire, know that the son of Ra was leaving her never to return.
Hugh had not hesitated a moment. He longed to get away, and I confess that I viewed the prospect of leaving this strange exotic land for ever without the slightest pang.
"We will make our own terms with Ur-tasen," said Hugh; "and I promise you our return journey will not be attended with any privations."
"You are glad to go?" I asked.
"Very glad," he replied earnestly. "She will be happy … and we shall both forget."
As long as we could, we watched the white city gradually growing more hazy and dim, until at last a turn in the canal, a thick clump of papyrus grass hid it entirely from our view; even then it seemed to me that the echo from sistrum and harp, the strange songs of the priestesses of Isis, hovered for some time in the air.
The journey from Tanis to Men-ne-fer direct was a long one. We spent two nights beneath the canopy of our boat, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clap of the oars and the monotonous lullabies sung by the boatmen. The third night we passed before the palace of Neit-akrit.
There was no moon, and it was very dark all around; the marble palace hardly appeared as an outline against the heavy sky, only the gigantic sphinxes seemed to frown down upon us in the gloom. A warm breeze was in the air, and as the boat glided swiftly past the great fuchsia trees gave forth a long and melancholy sigh. We neither of us spoke; but by the dim light of the lamp at the poop I could see that, for a long time, Hugh watched that ghostlike palace, those fuchsia trees, whose snow-white walls, within which he had buried his earthly paradise.
