“Wilt come up before the image of the goddess, oh, Maat-kha! and at her very feet swear that thou wilt do my bidding, whatsoever I might command?”
She raised her head, and in the dim, flickering light I could see that she darted an inquiring, amazed look upwards at him.
“Dost believe that I am powerful?” he asked.
“I believe that thou dost hate him who is beloved of the gods.”
“Wilt swear to do my bidding?” he repeated.
“Dost wish to harm him?”
“Not unless thou also dost wish it.”
“I love him, Ur-tasen,” she said in truly heart-rending tones.
“Wouldst see him then in the arms of Neit-akrit?”
“I would sooner see him dead at my feet,” she replied, with renewed passion, “slain by my hands, as was my son, the Pharaoh.”