The Regent signed her to a corner of the room, and she squatted down on the pavement.
When he desired her to proceed with her story, she looked at the floor for some time in silence, and then began, as if half to herself: "I will tell thee, that I may find peace--I do not want, when I die, to be buried unembalmed.

Who knows but perhaps strange things may happen in the other world, and I would not wish to miss them.

I want to see him again down there, even if it were in the seventh limbo of the damned.
Listen to me! But, before I speak, promise me that whatever I tell thee, thou wilt leave me in peace, and will see that I am embalmed when I am dead.

Else I will not speak." Ani bowed consent.
"No-no," she said.

"I will tell thee what to swear 'If I do not keep my word to Hekt--who gives the Mohar into my power--may the Spirits whom she rules, annihilate me before I mount the throne.' Do not be vexed, my lord--and say only 'Yes.' What I can tell, is worth more than a mere word." "Well then--yes!" cried the Regent, eager for the mighty revelation.
The old woman muttered a few unintelligible words; then she collected herself, stretched out her lean neck, and asked, as she fixed her sparkling eyes on the man before her: "Did'st thou ever, when thou wert young, hear of the singer Beki?
Well, look at me, I am she." She laughed loud and hoarsely, and drew her tattered robe across her bosom, as if half ashamed of her unpleasing person.
"Ay!" she continued.