"Let us look." So we crept to the tamarisks, and peeping through their feathery tops, saw a very sweet sight in the pure rays of that desert moon.

There, not five paces away, stood a woman clad in white, young and shapely in form.
Her face we could not see because it was turned from us, also the long dark hair which streamed about her shoulders hid it.

She was praying aloud, speaking now in Hebrew, of which both of us knew something, and now in Egyptian, as does one who is accustomed to think in either tongue, and stopping from time to time to sob.
"O God of my people," she said, "send me succour and bring me safe home, that Thy child may not be left alone in the wilderness to become the prey of wild beasts, or of men who are worse than beasts." Then she sobbed, knelt down on a great bundle which I saw was stubble straw, and again began to pray.

This time it was in Egyptian, as though she feared lest the Hebrew should be overheard and understood.
"O God," she said, "O God of my fathers, help my poor heart, help my poor heart!" We were about to withdraw, or rather to ask her what she ailed, when suddenly she turned her head, so that the light fell full upon her face.

So lovely was it that I caught my breath and the Prince at my side started.