Thamar, who during the foregoing scene had remained crouched in her corner of the room, looking like a bat hanging from a corner by its talons, and had been muttering broken words and frowning, now unfolded her bony limbs, rose to her feet, and bending over the bed, listened to the breathing of the two sleepers. When the regularity of their breathing convinced her that they were sound asleep, she went towards the door, walking with infinite precaution. Once outside, she sprang with swift steps in the direction of the Nile, shaking off the dogs who hung on with their teeth at the edge of her tunic, or dragging them through the dust until they let go; or she glared at them with such fierce eyes that they drew back with frightened yelps and let her pass by.
She had soon passed the dangerous and deserted places inhabited at night by the members of the thieves' association, and entered the wealthy quarter of Thebes. Three or four streets bordered with tall buildings, the shadows of which fell in great angles, led her to the outer wall of the palace, which was the object of her trip. The difficulty was to enter,—no easy matter at that time of the night for an old Hebrew servant with dusty feet and shabby garments.
Copyright 1901, by George D. Sproul
GILBO & CO.
She went to the main pylon, before which watched, stretched at length, fifty ram-headed sphinxes, arranged in two lines like monsters ready to crush between their granite jaws the imprudent ones who should attempt to force a passage. The sentinels stopped her, struck her roughly with the shafts of their javelins, and then asked her what she wished.
"I want to see the Pharaoh," replied the old woman, rubbing her back.
"That's right,—very nice! Waken for this witch the Pharaoh, favourite of Phré, beloved of Ammon Ra, the destroyer of nations!" said the soldiers, laughing loudly.
Thamar repeated obstinately, "I want to see the Pharaoh at once."