"Thou knowest, of course, holy prophet, that one of my women, Sarah, is dead, and that her son was murdered?"
"That happened," said Mentezufis, "the night that we marched from Pi-
Bast."
The prince sprang up.
"By the eternal Amon!" cried he. "Did that take place so long ago, and ye did not mention it? Ye did not even tell me that I was suspected of murdering my own son?"
"Lord," said the priest, "the leader of an army in the day before battle has neither son nor father; he has no one whatever save the army and the enemy. Could we in extreme moments disturb thee with such tidings?"
"That is true," replied the prince, after some thought. "If we were attacked today I am not sure that I could command the army. In general I am not sure of my power to regain peace of mind.
"Such a little such a beautiful child! And that woman who sacrificed herself for me after I had wronged her grievously. Never have I thought that misfortunes of such sort could happen, and that people's hearts could endure them."
"Time heals time and prayer," whispered the priest.
The prince nodded, and again there was such silence in the tent that the dropping of sand in the hour glass was audible.
Again the heir rallied,