Round swung the ship, and for a minute hung in midstream.  There stood the captain on the foredeck, and there was the steersman at the helm, and the red light of the sinking sun turned them into figures of flame.  Suddenly with a simultaneous motion these men tore off their masks so that for a moment Asti and Tua saw their faces—­and behold! the face of the captain was the face of Pharaoh, Tua’s father, and the face of the steersman was the face of Mermes, Asti’s husband.

For one moment only did they see them, then a dark cloud hid the dying sun, and when it passed that ship was gone, whither they knew not.

The two women looked at each other, and for the first time were much afraid.

“Truly,” said Tua, “we are haunted if ever mortals were, for yonder ship has ghosts for mariners.”

“Aye, Lady,” answered Asti, “so have I thought from the first.  Still, take heart, for these ghosts once were men who loved us well, and doubtless they love us still.  Be sure that for no ill purpose have we been snatched out of the hand of Abi, and brought living and unharmed by the shades of Pharaoh your sire, and Mermes my husband, to this secret shore.  See, yonder burns a fire, let us go to it, and await what may befall bravely, knowing that at least it can be naught but good.”

So they went to the rock and, darkness being come, sat themselves down by the fire, alongside of which lay wood for its replenishment, and near the wood soft robes of camel-hair to shield them from the cold.  These robes they put on with thankfulness, and, having fed the flame, bethought them of and opened the baskets which were given to them when they left the ship.  The first basket, that which Asti held, they found to contain food, cakes, dried meats and dates, as much as one woman could carry.  But the second, that which had been given to Tua, was otherwise provided, for in the mouth of it lay a lovely harp of ivory with golden strings, whereof the frame was fashioned to the shape of a woman.  Tua drew it out and looked at it by the light of the fire.

“It is my own harp,” she said in an awed voice, “the harp that the Prince of Kesh, whom Rames slew, brought as a gift to me, to the notes of which I sang the Song of the Lovers but just before the giver died.  Yes, it is my own harp that I left in Thebes.  Say, now, Nurse, how came it here?”

“How came we here?” answered Asti shortly.  “Answer my question and I will answer yours.”

Then, laying down the harp, Tua looked again into her basket and found that beneath a layer of dried papyrus leaves were hidden pearls, thousands of pearls of all sizes, and of such lustre and beauty as she had never seen.  They were strung upon threads of silk, all those of a like size being set upon a single thread, except the very biggest, which were as great as a finger nail, or even larger, that lay wrapped up separately in cloth at the bottom of the basket.