"They will spring presently," whispered Tua.
"Did the Spirits of the divine Pharaoh your father, and of Mermes my
lord, bring us here in the Boat of Ra that we should be devoured by wild
animals, like lost sheep in the desert?" asked Asti. Then, as though by
an inspiration, she added, "Lady, take that harp of yours, and play and
sing to it."
So Tua took the harp and swept its golden chords, and, lifting up her
lovely voice, she began to sing. At first it trembled a little, but by
degrees, as she forgot all save the music, it grew strong, and rang out
sweetly in the silence of the forest, and the great, slow-moving river.
And lo! as she sang thus, the wild brutes grew still, and seemed to
listen as though they were charmed. Yes, even a snake wriggled out from
between the rocks and listened, waving its crested head to and fro.
At length Tua ceased, and as the echoes died away the brutes, every one
of them, turned and vanished into the forest or the river, all save the
snake that coiled itself up and slept where it was.
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