“I hate Neit-akrit of the house of Usem-Ra.”
“The gods care naught for human loves or hates,” pronounced the high priest, coldly.
“Neit-akrit is young…”
“And the gods have made her fair to look upon,” said the high priest, with more enthusiasm, I thought, than his venerable appearance warranted.
“She is vain and frivolous,” added the Queen, with unconcern, which was obviously affected, for I could see that she was watching the effect of her words upon the priest’s face, “and she seldom gives offerings to the gods and their priests.”
“Age will bring wisdom,” he replied quietly.
“It will not, Ur-tasen,” she began with more vehemence, while she raised herself on her litter and drew closer to the priest. “See! I have brought here rich offerings for Ra; emeralds from my mines beyond Se-veneh, sapphires and rubies from Ta-bu. I have brought ostrich feathers as long as a man’s arm, and oil from the sacred tree of Hana, in the garden of my palace. I have brought thee rare pigeons from my aviaries, and an ibis whose plumage is like the opening petals of the lotus blossom. I have brought thee enough gold dust to strew the steps of the altar of the god. Rich gifts and rare, sweet herbs and brilliant gems, that thou mayest pray to Osiris, that he find some other head on which to place the crown of Kamt, than that of hated Neit-akrit.”
“But she is thine own sister’s child! Thou canst not hate her. Thou wouldst not see the crown of Kamt on the head of a stranger?”
I thought this a very weak speech on the part of the high priest. Evidently the visions of those emeralds and sweet-scented herbs, or perhaps the pigeons from the royal garden, had shaken his enthusiasm for the absent Neit-akrit.
“I humbled myself before her and asked her to wed my son. She laughed at me and vouchsafed no answer.”