at the dawn, this dawn that is past, once more I stood upon the terrace, and once more the cloaked man appeared from among the trees.
"'Now you have heard, Moon of Israel,' he said, 'and now you must believe and come, although you think yourself safe because at the beginning of the plagues this, the home of Seti, was enchanted against evil, so that none within it can be harmed.'
"'I have heard, and I think that I believe, though how the tidings reached Memphis in an hour I do not understand. Yet, stranger, I say to you that it is not enough.'
"Then the man drew a papyrus roll from his bosom and threw it at my feet. I opened it and read. The writing was the writing of Ana as I knew well, and the signature was the signature of you, my lord, and it was sealed with your seal, and with the seal of Bakenkhonsu as a witness. Here it is," and from the breast of her garment, she drew out a roll and gave it to me upon whom she rested all this while.
I opened it, and by the light of torches the Prince, Bakenkhonsu, and I read. It was as she had told us in what seemed to be my writing, and signed and sealed as she had said. The words ran:
"To Merapi, Moon of Israel, in my house at Memphis.
"Come, Lady, Flower of Love, to me your lord, to whom the bearer of this will guide you safely. Come at once, for I am in great danger, as you are, and together only can we be safe."
"Ana, what means this?" asked the Prince in a terrible voice. "If you have betrayed me and her——"
"By the gods," I began angrily, "am I a man that I should live to hear even your Highness speak thus to me, or am I but a dog of the desert?"
I ceased, for at that moment Bakenkhonsu began to laugh.
"Look at the letter!" he laughed. "Look at the letter."
We looked, and as we looked, behold the writing on it turned first to the colour of blood and then faded away, till presently there was nothing in my hand but a blank sheet of papyrus.
"Oho-ho!" laughed Bakenkhonsu. "Truly, friend Ki, you are the first of magicians, save those prophets of the Israelites who have brought you—Whither have they brought you, friend Ki?"
Then for the first time the painted smile left the face of Ki, and it became like a block of stone in which were set two angry jewels that were his eyes.
"Continue, Lady," said the Prince.
"I obeyed the letter. I fled away with the man who said he had a chariot waiting. We passed out by the little gate.
"'Where is the chariot?' I asked.
"'We go by boat,' he answered, and led the way towards the river. As we threaded the big palm grove men appeared from between the trees.
"'You have betrayed me,' I cried.
"'Nay,' he answered, 'I am myself betrayed.'
"Then for the first time I knew his voice for that of Laban.
"The men seized us; at the head of them was Ki.
"'This is the witch,' he said, 'who, her wickedness finished, flies with her Hebrew lover, who is also the familiar of her sorceries.'
"They tore the cloak and the false beard from him and there before me stood Laban. I cursed him to his face. But all he answered was:
"'Merapi, what I have done I did for love of you. It was my purpose to take you away to our people, for here I knew that they would kill you. This magician promised you to me if I could tempt you from the safety of the palace, in return for certain tidings that I have given him.'
"These were the only words that passed between us till the end. They dragged us to the secret prison of the great temple where we were separated. Here all day long Ki and the priests tormented me with questions, to which I gave no answer. Towards the evening they brought me out and led me here with Laban at my side. When the people saw me a great cry went up of 'Sorceress! Hebrew witch!' They broke through the guard; they seized me, threw me to the ground and beat me. Laban strove to protect me but was torn away. At length the people were driven off, and oh! my lord, you know the rest. I have spoken truth, I can no more."
So saying her knees loosened beneath her and she swooned. We bore her to the chariot.
"You have heard, Ki," said the Prince. "Now, what answer?"
"None, O Pharaoh," he replied coldly, "for Pharaoh you are, as I promised that you should be. My spirit has deserted me, those Hebrews have stolen it away. That writing should have faded from the scroll as soon as it was read by yonder lady, and then I would have told you another story; a story of secret love, of betrayal and attempted flight with her lover. But some evil god kept it there until you also had read, you who knew that you had not written what appeared before your eyes. Pharaoh, I am conquered. Do your will with me, and farewell. Beloved you shall always be as you have always been, but happy never in this world."
"O People," cried Seti, "I will not be judge in my own cause. You have heard, do you judge. For this wizard, what reward?"
Then there went up a great cry of "Death! Death by fire. The death he had made ready for the innocent!"
That was the end, but they told me afterwards that, when the great pyre had burned out, in it was found the head of Ki looking like a red-hot stone. When the sunlight fell on it, however, it crumbled and faded away, as the writing had faded from the roll. If this be true I do not know, who was not present at the time.
We bore Merapi to the palace. She lived but three days, she whose body and spirit were broken. The last time I saw her was when she sent for me not an hour before death came. She was lying in Seti's arms babbling to him of their child and looking very sweet and happy. She thanked me for my friendship, smiling the while in a way which showed me that she knew it was more than friendship, and bade me tend my master well until we all met again elsewhere. Then she gave me her hand to kiss and I went away weeping.
After she was dead a strange fancy took Seti. In the great hall of the palace he caused a golden throne to be put up, and on this throne he set her in regal garments, with pectoral and necklaces of gems, crowned like a queen of Egypt, and thus he showed her to the lords of Memphis. Then he caused her to be embalmed and buried in a secret sepulchre, the place of which I have sworn never to reveal, but without any rites because she was not of the faith of Egypt.
There then she sleeps in her eternal house until the Day of Resurrection, and with her sleeps her little son.
It was within a moon of this funeral that the great ones of Egypt came to Memphis to name the Prince as Pharaoh, and with them came her Highness, the Queen Userti. I was present at the ceremony, which to me was very strange. There was the Vizier Nehesi; there was the high-priest Roi and with him many other priests; and there was even the old chamberlain Pambasa, pompous yet grovelling as before, although he had deserted the household of the Prince after his disinheritance for that of the Pharaoh Amenmeses. His appearance with his wand of office and long white beard, of which he was so proud because it was his own, drew from Seti the only laugh I had heard him utter for many weeks.
"So you are back again, Chamberlain Pambasa," he said.
"O most Holy, O most Royal," answered the old knave, "has Pambasa, the grain of dust beneath your feet, ever deserted the House of Pharaoh, or that of him who will be Pharaoh?"
"No,"
