"You should have seen her.

The dove became a lioness." "Because she loves Mena as much as her mother loves herself," answered Hekt.

"As the poets say, 'she is full of him.' It is really true of her, there is no room for any thing else.

She cares for one only, and woe to those who come between him and her!" "I have seen other women in love," said Nemu, "but--" "But," exclaimed the old witch with such a sharp laugh that the girls all looked up, "they behaved differently to Nefert--I believe you, for there is not one in a thousand that loves as she does.

It is a sickness that gives raging pain--like a poisoned arrow in an open wound, and devours all that is near it like a fire-brand, and is harder to cure than the disease which is killing that coughing wench.