“It is very hot!  Would you like some wine to drink—–­or some water?”

With these words she raised the wine-cup, and drank about half of the contents; then she shuddered, and while her pretty face took a comical expression, she turned to her mother, who was seated behind her and held the beaker towards her.

“The wine is quite sour to-day!” she said.  “Taste it, mother.”

Katuti took the little silver-cup in her hand, and gravely put it to her lips, but without wetting them.  A smile passed over her face, and her eyes met those of the pioneer, who stared at her in horror.  The picture flashed before her mind of herself languishing for the pioneer, and of his terror at her affection for him!  Her selfish and intriguing spirit was free from coarseness, and yet she could have laughed with all her heart even while engaged in the most shameful deed of her whole life.  She gave the wine back to her daughter, saying good-humoredly: 

“I have tasted sweeter, but acid is refreshing in this heat.”

“That is true,” said the wife of Mena; she emptied the cup to the bottom, and then went on, as if refreshed, “But I will tell you the rest of my dream.  I saw the Neha-tree, which your father gave me, quite plainly; nay I could have declared that I smelt its perfume, but the interpreter assured me that we never smell in our dreams.  I went up to the beautiful tree in admiration.  Then suddenly a hundred axes appeared in the air, wielded by unseen hands, and struck the poor tree with such violence that the branches one by one fell to the ground, and at last the trunk itself was felled.  If you think it grieved me you are mistaken.  On the contrary, I was delighted with the flashing hatchets and the flying splinters.  When at last nothing was left but the roots in the tub of earth, I perceived that the tree was rising to new life.  Suddenly my arms became strong, my feet active, and I fetched quantities of water from the tank, poured it over the roots, and when, at last, I could exert myself no longer, a tender green shoot showed itself on the wounded root, a bud appeared, a green leaf unfolded itself, a juicy stem sprouted quickly, it became a firm trunk, sent out branches and twigs, and these became covered with leaves and flowers, white, red and blue; then various birds came and settled on the top of the tree, and sang.  Ah! my heart sang louder than the birds at that moment, and I said to myself that without me the tree would have been dead, and that it owed its life to me.”

“A beautiful dream,” said Katuti; “that reminds me of your girlhood, when you would he awake half the night inventing all sorts of tales.  What interpretation did the priest give you?”

“He promised me many things,” said Nefert, “and he gave me the assurance that the happiness to which I am predestined shall revive in fresh beauty after many interruptions.”

“And Paaker’s father gave you the Neha-tree?” asked Katuti, leaving the veranda as she spoke and walking out into the garden.