queen of Egypt should sing before all this noble company."

"Why not, my father?" she asked. "To-night we all do honour to the heir
of his Majesty of Kesh. Pharaoh receives him, Pharaoh's daughter accepts
his gifts, the highest in the land surround him," then she paused and
added slowly, "one of blood more ancient than his own waits on him as
cup-bearer, one whose race built up the throne his father fills," and
she pointed to Rames, who stood near by holding the vase of wine. "Why,
then, should not Egypt's queen seek to please our royal guest as best
she may--since she has no other gift to give him?"

Then in the dead silence which followed this bold speech, whereof none
could mistake the meaning, Neter-Tua, Morning Star of Amen, rose from
her seat. Pressing the ivory harp against her young breast, she
bent over it, her head crowned with the crown of Upper Egypt whereon
glistened the royal _uræus_, a snake about to strike, and swept the
well-tuned strings.

Such magic was in her touch that instantly all else was forgotten, even
the Pharaoh leaned back in his golden chair to listen. Softly she struck
at first, then by slow degrees ever louder till the music of the harp
rang through the pillared hall. Now, at length, she lifted up her
heavenly voice and began to sing in a strain so wild and sweet that it
seemed to pierce to the watching stars.

It was a sad and ancient love-tale that she sang, which told how a
priestess of Hathor of high degree loved and was beloved by a simple
scribe whom she might not wed. It told how the scribe, maddened by his
passion, crept at night into the very sanctuary of the temple hoping to
find her there, and for his sacrilege was slain by the angry goddess.