"Yes."
The prince sat down on the bench, in the shadow of an olive tree, and heard the laughter of women in the villa.
"Kama," thought he, "is a pretty name. She must be young, and perhaps beautiful, and those dull Phoenicians threaten her with death. Do they wish in this way to assure themselves even a few virgins in the whole country?"
He laughed, but was sad. It was uncertain why he pitied that unknown woman for whom love would be a passage to the grave.
"I can imagine to myself Tutmosis if he were appointed priestess of Astaroth," thought Ramses. "He would have to die, poor fellow, before he could light one lamp before the face of the goddess."
At that moment a flute was heard in the villa, and some one played a plaintive air, which was accompanied by female singers, "Aha-a! aha-a!" as in the lullaby of infants.
The flute stopped, the women were silent, and a splendid male voice was heard, in the Greek language:
"When thy robe gleams on the terrace, the stars pale and the nightingales cease to sing, but in my heart there is stillness like that which is on earth when the clear dawn salutes it."
"Aha-a! aha-a!" continued the women. The flute played again.
"When Thou goest to the temple, violets surround thee in a cloud of fragrance, butterflies circle near thy lips, palms bend their heads to thy beauty."