Maat-kha’s face had become positively livid with rage; she was strong and muscular, and she tried with both her hands to smother the evil words in her son’s mouth.
But this half-human creature repeated, with a truly demoniacal chuckle:
“I tell thee I saw them both.… Dost think perchance he cares for thee, beyond thy throne and thy riches? Look at Neit-akrit and then at thyself. Is she not made for love? young, ardent and exquisitely beautiful. She hath consumed my soul with wild passion, mad, unreasoning love, and he… hast seen him to-day? He is dying of the same complaint which has sapped my manhood, made a weak coward of the Pharaoh, the descendant of Ammoun-ra.… Hast seen his burning eyes, his hollow cheeks? He is dying, I tell thee! he will die in thy arms one day… soon… die of love for Neit-akrit.”
“Thou liest! thou liest! thou liest!” she shouted. “I forbid thee to speak, thou liest!”
“He loves her, I tell thee, and thou wilt wed him to-morrow; but he will hate thee, for his heart belongs to Neit-akrit. Ay! mother mine, thou hast stolen my throne from me, but at least, in exchange for that throne, I think I have succeeded in stealing from thee the last shred of thy happiness.”
But the semi-demented creature who ruled over the kingdom of Kamt had pursued his cruel game just a little too far. I was absolutely helpless to intervene, even had I thought of venturing to do so, for the heavy marble gates were between me and that mother and son, who were hissing words of hate in one another’s ears.
“Thou liest!” repeated the Queen, but yet she listened, as if longing to drink to the last dregs of the poisonous cup which her son was holding to her mouth.
“Thou art old, mother mine,” added the creature, with truly satanic fiendishness. “Of thee he will have but thy throne. I tell thee that as soon as he has wedded thee he will forget thy very existence: and Neit-akrit, the divine Neit-akrit, whom I, the Pharaoh, adore, will forget her rank, her maidenhood, and vow herself to Isis, that she may on moonlit nights put her white arms round his neck, and show him how well the women of Kamt have learnt how to kiss.”
With a hoarse cry Maat-kha, whose whole body seemed to tremble with mad, uncontrolled rage, literally sprang upon her son. With both hands she gripped him round the neck, and she held him there, tightly clutched, before her, until perforce his evil words died, choked within his throat. His head fell back, livid and ghastly, his arms beat the air once or twice, while his whole being shook in a violent convulsion.
Aghast, horror-struck, I shouted with all the force of which my lungs were capable: I threw my body against the marble gate, only to fall back bruised, sore and helpless. The mad woman heeded me not; the wild mania of blind jealousy must have closed her ears. My voice went echoing among the massive pillars of the building, but nothing answered it save, far away, the song of the priestesses of Isis amidst the flowers and the balmy midnight air.