The smile grew cold on Kama's half-open lips; Hiram, now pale, answered humbly,
"How have we earned the anger of our lord and guardian?"
"I would know the truth," said Ramses, sitting down and looking threateningly at Hiram. "I would know who arranged an attack on the Assyrian ambassador, and associated in that villainy a man resembling me as much as my two hands resemble each other?"
"Seest, Kama," said the frightened Hiram, "I told thee that intimacy with that ruffian would bring great misfortune And here it is! We have not waited long to see it."
The priestess fell at the prince's feet.
"I will tell all," cried she, groaning; "only cast from thy heart, lord, anger against Phoenicians. Slay me, imprison me, but be not angry at Phoenicians."
"Who attacked Sargon?"
"Lykon, the Greek, who sings in our temples," said the priestess, still kneeling.
"Aha! it was he, then, who was singing outside thy house, and he resembles me greatly?"
Hiram bent his head and placed his hand on his heart.