Her voice had a mellow and rich cadence in it, wholly different from the low, silvery tones with which the Egyptian ladies speak.
"I rejoice with you," I said.
She slowly shook her superb head, about which the jet-black hair was bound in a profusion of braids. There were tones in her voice, too, that again recalled Prince Remeses. Hence the secret of the interest that I took in conversing with her.
"Why do you shake your head?" I asked.
"Why should the Hebrew wish to prolong life?"
She said this in a tone of deep emotion, but continued her occupation, which was now copying a leaf of brilliantly colored hieroglyphic inscriptions into the sort of running-hand the Egyptians make use of in ordinary intercourse. There are three modes of tracing the characters of this system of writing; and scribes adopt one, which, while it takes the hieroglyph for its copy, represents it by a few strokes that often bear, to the uninitiated eye, no resemblance to the model. This mode the Hebrewess was making use of, writing it with ease and elegance.
"Life to you, in this palace, under such a gentle mistress as Osiria, cannot be bitter."
"I have no want. I am treated here as if I were not of the race of the Hebrews. But, my lord," she said, elevating slightly her noble-toned voice, though not raising her eyes, "I am not so selfish, believe me, as to have no thought beyond my own personal comfort. How can I be happy, even amid all the kindness I experience in this virtuous family, when my heart is oppressed with the bondage of my people? Thou art but a stranger in Egypt, O prince,—for I have heard of thee, and who thou art,—and yet thou hast seen and felt for my people!"
"I have, indeed, seen their misery and toil; but how didst thou know it?"
"From the venerable Ben Isaac, whose son Israel thou didst pity and relieve at the fountain of the shepherds." She said this gratefully and with feeling.