At the sight of her, clad in the mail which she still wore, a murmur
rose from them like the murmur of the sea, followed by a deep silence
since they dared not declare the pity which moved them all. In the midst
of this silence, whilst the sun sank behind the Pyramids of the ancient
kings, Neter-Tua lifted up her glorious voice and sang the evening hymn
to Amen-Ra. As the last notes died away in the still air, again the
murmur rose while the darkness gathered about the pylon, hiding her from
the gaze of men.
Hand in hand as they had come, the two deserted women descended the
stair to their sleeping-place.
"They dare not help us, Asti," said Tua, "let us lie down and die."
"Nay, Queen," answered Asti, "let us turn to one that giveth help to
the helpless. Do you remember the words spoken by the shining spirit of
Ahura the Divine?"
"I remember them, Asti."
"Queen, I have waited long, since the spell she whispered to me may be
used once only, but now I am sure that the moment is at hand when that
which dwells within you must be called forth to save you.
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