aback by all these people descending upon her with-out warning.

She said, after mumbling phrases of welcome.. whom do you want, my children?

The Father replied: they are asking whether you know any stories about "the Sitt."

She said: "We are strangers here; we know nothing. It is said that a foreign woman lived in the place, strange in her ways.. abundant in money, who fed her dogs the produce of the vineyards... And that was long ago, before I was born, or my mother either. We know no more than this. We are poor folk; nothing in the world concerns us but this crop of ours. There is her grave, if you wish to see it."

And she pointed to a neighboring field, half hedged in with olive trees, in whose middle was a modest grave; we walked toward it, pursued by the clucking of the hens — the old woman's hens.

A marble tomb, on whose sides mosses had sprouted, topped by a marble slab on which were carved her name and the dates of her birth and her death.

And on the grave there was no cross!!

We stood a contemplative moment: in this small grave rest the remains of a woman great in her ambitions.

And we began to move our gaze from the grave to the remains of the palace and back again, trying to form for ourselves a picture of this strong woman.

And the lowing of the cow, the braying of the donkey, and the clucking of the hens in the nearby field kept eating away at the romanticism of the scene.

The book that tells of the Lady was in my hand; the old woman was still insisting that they were poor peasants who had nothing to do with this strange Sitt; and a villager who had vol-unteered his mistaken informa-

tion was saying: she was a sor-ceress with many arts of sorcery.

All of this only sharpened my curiosity; but I despaired of any likelihood of hearing something of value from these people, who had torn the magic of the legend to pieces. Lady Hester was the granddaughter of one of England's prime ministers, Chatham, whose history there is no room for here. In explanation of the reasons for her coming, it is said that she was struck by the sad end of a love she bore for Sir John Moore, so she folded her wings and came to bury her sorrows in this East.

And it was said that she was an adventuress, endowed with a rare strength and with an eccentricity of temperament that

made of her a woman strange in her ways.

And that she was bewitching of personality, strong in argu-ment, reaching what she wanted without great trouble.

She landed at Sidon in 1812 to write a stirring page of her life; and it was said, too, that her coming was for political reasons, and that she enjoyed influence with the authorities.

Her first triumph was to head an expedition that went searching for the remains of the city of Palmyra (Tadmor) among the sands of the Syrian desert. Many tried to turn her from her resolve — the adventure was no easy one, and the Bedouin were too violent to respect a woman .. a white woman ..!!

So she was told .. but

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