Egyptian dress, a lady of tall stature, near whom a girl tripped lightly,
and another carried in a litter by slaves.

Pentaur's heart beat wildly, for he recognized Bent-Anat and her
companions. They disappeared by the hunter's cottage, but he stood
still, breathing painfully, spell-bound to the cliff by which he stood
--a long, long time--and did not stir.

He did not hear a light step, that came near to him, and died away again,
he did not feel that the sun began to cast fierce beams on him, and on
the porphyry cliff behind him, he did not see a woman now coming quickly
towards him; but, like a deaf man who has suddenly acquired the sense of
hearing, he started when he heard his name spoken--by whose lips?

"Pentaur!" she said again; the poet opened his arms, and Bent-Anat fell
upon his breast; and he held her to him, clasped, as though he must hold
her there and never part from her all his life long.


Meanwhile the princess's companions were resting by the hunter's little
house.

"She flew into his arms--I saw it," said Uarda. "Never shall I forget
it. It was as if the bright lake there had risen up to embrace the
mountain."

"Where do you find such fancies, child ?" cried Nefert.

"In my heart, deep in my heart!" cried Uarda. "I am so unspeakably
happy."