Now I flattered myself that in spite of my inward terrors I had kept a very fair command of my countenance, and was, therefore, a little astonished at this question.  Before I had made up my mind how to answer it, however, the curtain was drawn, and a tall figure stood before us.  I say a figure, for not only the body, but also the face was wrapped up in soft white, gauzy material in such a way as at first sight to remind me most forcibly of a corpse in its grave-clothes.  And yet I do not know why it should have given me that idea, seeing that the wrappings were so thin that one could distinctly see the gleam of the pink flesh beneath them.  I suppose it was owing to the way in which they were arranged, either accidentally, or more probably by design.  Anyhow, I felt more frightened than ever at this ghost-like apparition, and my hair began to rise upon my head as the feeling crept over me that I was in the presence of something that was not canny.  I could, however, clearly distinguish that the swathed mummy-like form before me was that of a tall and lovely woman, instinct with beauty in every part, and also with a certain snake-like grace which I had never seen anything to equal before.  When she moved a hand or foot her entire frame seemed to undulate, and the neck did not bend, it curved.

“Why art thou so frightened, stranger?” asked the sweet voice again—­a voice which seemed to draw the heart out of me, like the strains of softest music.  “Is there that about me that should affright a man?  Then surely are men changed from what they used to be!” And with a little coquettish movement she turned herself, and held up one arm, so as to show all her loveliness and the rich hair of raven blackness that streamed in soft ripples down her snowy robes, almost to her sandalled feet.

“It is thy beauty that makes me fear, oh Queen,” I answered humbly, scarcely knowing what to say, and I thought that as I did so I heard old Billali, who was still lying prostrate on the floor, mutter, “Good, my Baboon, good.”

“I see that men still know how to beguile us women with false words.  Ah, stranger,” she answered, with a laugh that sounded like distant silver bells, “thou wast afraid because mine eyes were searching out thine heart, therefore wast thou afraid.  Yet being but a woman, I forgive thee for the lie, for it was courteously said.  And now tell me how came ye hither to this land of the dwellers among the caves—­a land of swamps and evil things and dead old shadows of the dead?  What came ye for to see?  How is it that ye hold your lives so cheap as to place them in the hollow of the hand of Hiya, into the hand of ‘She-who-must-be-obeyed’?  Tell me also how come ye to know the tongue I talk.  It is an ancient tongue, that sweet child of the old Syriac.  Liveth it yet in the world?  Thou seest I dwell among the caves and the dead, and naught know I of the affairs of men, nor have I cared to know.  I have lived, O stranger, with my memories, and my memories are in a grave that mine hands hollowed, for truly hath it been said that the child of man maketh his own path evil;” and her beautiful voice quivered, and broke in a note as soft as any wood-bird’s.  Suddenly her eye fell upon the sprawling frame of Billali, and she seemed to recollect herself.