_Delethi is playing a harp. Nagaou dances before her. Nahasi is juggling with oranges, while Mouene sits watching a little bird in a cage. Yaouma reclines on the terrace supporting her head on her elbows and gazing out at the Nile. Zaya is beside her. On a carpet Sitsinit, lying flat upon her stomach with a writing box by her side, is busy painting an ibis on the left hand of Hanou, who lies in a similar attitude._ SITSI. Did you not know? She, on whose left hand a black ibis has been painted, is certain of a happy day. HANOU. A happy day! Why then, 'tis I, perhaps, who will be chosen to-night! DELETHI [_playing the harp while Nagaou dances before her_] More slowly!--more slowly!... you must make them think of the swaying of a lotus flower, that the Nile's slow-moving current would bear away, and that raises itself to kiss again the waters of the stream. NAGAOU. Yes, yes.... Begin again! NAHASI [_juggling with oranges_] Nagaou would let herself be borne away without a struggle. [_She laughs_]. MOUENE [_hopping on one foot_] We know that she goes to the bank of the Nile, at the hour when the palm-trees grow black against the evening sky, to listen to a basket maker's songs. HANOU [_to Sitsinit_] And this morning I anointed my whole body with Kyphli, mixed with cinnamon and terrabine and myrrh. DELETHI [_to Nagaou_] 'Tis well ... you may dance the great prayer to Isis with the rest. NAGAOU [_to Mouene_] Yes! I do go to listen to songs at dark. You are still too little for anyone, basket maker or any other, to take notice of you. MOUENE. You think so!... who gave me this little bird? [_She draws the bird from the cage by a string attached to its leg_] Who caught thee, flower-of-the-air, who gave thee to me? [_Holding up a finger_] Do not tell! Do not tell.... HANOU [_looking at herself in a metal mirror_] Sitsinit ... the black line that lengthens this eye is too short ... make it longer with your reed. I think the more beautiful I am, the more chance I shall have to be chosen for the sacrifice.... Is it not so, Zaya?... What are you doing there without a word? ZAYA. I was watching the flight of a crane with hanging feet, that melted away in the distant blue of heaven.... Do not hope to be chosen by the gods, Hanou. HANOU. Wherefore should I not be chosen? ZAYA. Neither you nor any who are here. The gods never demand the sacrifice two years together from the same village. HANOU. Never? ZAYA. Rarely. HANOU. 'Tis a pity. Is it not, Nagaou? NAGAOU. I know not. SITSI. Would it not make you proud? NAGAOU. Yes. But it makes me proud, too, to lean on the breast of him whose words still the beating of my heart. DELETHI. To be taken by a god! By the Nile! HANOU. Preferred to all the others! MOUENE [_the youngest_] For my part I should prefer to live.... SITSI. Still, if the God desired you.... ZAYA. Oh! one can refuse....