It was high and airy, and its furniture consisted in costly but simple necessaries; the lower part of the wall was lined with cool tiles of white and violet earthen ware, on each of which was pictured a star, and which, all together, formed a tasteful pattern.  Above these the walls were covered with a beautiful dark green material brought from Sais, and the same stuff was used to cover the long divans by the wall.  Chairs and stools, made of cane, stood round a very large table in the middle of this room, out of which several others opened; all handsome, comfortable, and harmonious in aspect, but all betraying that their mistress took small pleasure in trifling decorations.  But her chief delight was in finely-grown plants, of which rare and magnificent specimens, artistically arranged on stands, stood in the corners of many of the rooms.  In others there were tall obelisks of ebony, which bore saucers for incense, which all the Egyptians loved, and which was prescribed by their physicians to purify and perfume their dwellings.  Her simple bedroom would have suited a prince who loved floriculture, quite as well as a princess.

Before all things Bent-Anat loved air and light.  The curtains of her windows and doors were only closed when the position of the sun absolutely required it; while in Nefert’s rooms, from morning till evening, a dim twilight was maintained.

The princess went affectionately towards the charioteer’s wife, who bowed low before her at the threshold; she took her chin with her right hand, kissed her delicate narrow forehead, and said: 

“Sweet creature!  At last you have come uninvited to see lonely me!  It is the first time since our men went away to the war.  If Rameses’ daughter commands there is no escape; and you come; but of your own free will—­”

Nefert raised her large eyes, moist with tears, with an imploring look, and her glance was so pathetic that Bent-Anat interrupted herself, and taking both her hands, exclaimed: 

“Do you know who must have eyes exactly like yours?  I mean the Goddess from whose tears, when they fall on the earth, flowers spring.”

Nefert’s eyes fell and she blushed deeply.

“I wish,” she murmured, “that my eyes might close for ever, for I am very unhappy.”  And two large tears rolled down her cheeks.

“What has happened to you, my darling?” asked the princess sympathetically, and she drew her towards her, putting her arm round her like a sick child.

Nefert glanced anxiously at the chamberlain, and the ladies in waiting who had entered the room with her, and Bent-Anat understood the look; she requested her attendants to withdraw, and when she was alone with her sad little friend—­“Speak now,” she said.  “What saddens your heart? how comes this melancholy expression on your dear baby face?  Tell me, and I will comfort you, and you shall be my bright thoughtless plaything once more.”