was a little girl and the royal troops of Egypt beat back the Hyksos beyond Thaubasium, I danced the steps of victory from sunset till dawn in the great halls of the Moon Goddess. Nay, if I am to tire, the cause must be other than weary muscles."
"Mental boredom, perhaps?"
The girl shrugged her graceful shoulders.
"It is possible," she admitted. "But no, no—it is not that. I am weary of this castle, of this country. I dread that constant talks of Egypt's lost glory—of the many gods and their terrible anger at our wrong doings—of anything connected with antiquity. I am tired of—of him!" she whispered.
Her eyes looked at me in a strange, beseeching manner.
"Surely you will understand," she went on in an earnest tone. "I wish to be free, to be away from all this. The old world no longer appeals to me; I would know of the new, to see the many things the eager Billy told me—spacious dwellings—evenings at the lighted theatres in wraps of ermine—graceful dancing in a polished ballroom. Ah, it is what my heart calls for—it is what I should have."
Her beautiful face was close to mine, waiting, I knew, for a confirmation of her words.
"But is that not impossible?" I protested. "A daughter of the Pharaohs to"
"Oh damn the Pharaohs!" cried the Princess of Egypt hotly. "Must I always hear that loathsome word? Am I to stay for countless years in these ancient halls, hearing only the chanting of Egypt's lost glory? It is the new lands I want—their delicious thrills—their pleasures!
"Do you not know the awful centuries I spent imprisoned on that great bowl of stone — the ages that passed while I was but the living dead? Can you realize what the torture of three hundred years would mean to one who could but hope and yearn once more for the joys and loves of her maidenhood? No, no, you could never know. You are a man of the cold Twentieth Century, to whom the pulsing warmth of the eternal passion must for ever remain a mystery.
"But I, who have thirsted through the ages, know its fires, and am free once more for that glorious ecstasy." She added after a slight pause: "Free to laugh and live as of yore. Free to enjoy the many pleasures so long denied me. Free to care, to—to love."
Her voice sank to a low whisper.
Atma was looking at me in an eager, expectant manner. One slender arm had encircled mine, and her supple body leaned closer. Parted red lips were near my own. A wild rush of madness swept over me. Pulses pounding, heart thumping, I yearned to cover that perfect mouth with smothering kisses till she would lie helpless, panting in my arms.
We were alone! We were alone! Dazed with the fragrance of her hair, I could feel her loveliness tremble with desire as her lips brushed mine. It was as though this one moment had been snatched from all eternity, to carry us a billion miles beyond the planets and the suns. Only with the greatest effort could I draw away.
"But Karamour—he will never consent to your leaving here. This—this is madness! He would not forsake the land of his father, nor would you leave without him."
"Why do you say that?" she cried. "He means nothing to me—never has. I have always felt a strong dislike for the loveless fool who thinks only of the past and Egypt's forgotten grandeur. Nay, I have planned my flight too long to let anything
