“Surely,” said Tua, amazed, “no Queen in all the earth ever had a dower of such priceless pearls.  Moreover, what good they and the harp can be to us in this forest I may not guess.”

“Doubtless we shall discover in due course,” answered Asti; “meanwhile, let us thank the gods for their gifts and eat.”

So they ate, and then, having nothing else to do, lay down by the fire and would have slept.

But scarcely had they closed their eyes when the forest seemed to awake.  First from down by the river there came dreadful roarings which they knew must be the voice of lions, for there were tame beasts of this sort in the gardens at Thebes.  Next they heard the whines and wimperings of wolves and jackals, and mingled with them great snortings such as are made by the rhinoceros and the river-horse.

Nearer, nearer came these awful sounds, till at length they saw yellow eyes moving like stars in the darkness at the edge of the forest, while cross the patch of sand beneath their rock galloped swift shapes which halted and sniffed towards them.  Also on the river side of them appeared huge, hog-like beasts, with gleaming tusks, and red cavernous mouths, and beyond these again, crashing through the brushwood, a gigantic brute that bore a single horn upon its snout.

“Now our end is at hand,” said Tua faintly, “for surely these creatures will devour us.”

But Asti only threw more wood upon the fire and waited, thinking that the flame would frighten them away.  Yet it did not, for so curious, or so hungry were they, that the lions crept and crept nearer, and still more near, till at length they lay lashing their tails in the distance almost within springing distance of the rock, while on the farther side of these, like a court waiting on its monarch, gathered the hyenas and other beasts.

“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.  So stillness came again, and Tua and Asti slept also, nor did they wake until the sun was shining in the heavens.