"Uhuh have mercy upon us!" Nibituia sighed. "What if he falls into the brigands' hands!"
Khnum looked at the fire for some time without speaking.
"Quite, quite, quite! Here it is, this is the beginning," he said, quietly, as though thinking aloud. "According to Ipuver's prophecy 'the slaves shall be masters, the beggars shall become new gods.' Our Yubra knew what he was doing, the worm: an ant knows how far the flood will reach and build its hill on safe ground. He has gone to the rebels just in time."
Dio, too, was looking at the fire and suddenly the familiar feeling of repetition, of eternal recurrence came over her—nem-ankh—'all this has been already'; the red flame of the fire lighted from below the bare rocks and was reflected as a red pillar in the water in exactly the same way; white smoke curled in clouds of moonlight-blue and fiery crimson just like this; now as then the cold of the dead lips penetrated her through and through—it never left her from the moment she kissed Pentaur good-bye.
There was a sound of rapid steps on the stairs. The centurion of the Viceroy's bodyguard, quite a young boy, ran up to the roof. From his dusty helmet, torn clothes, restless eyes and trembling lips one could see that he had just come from a serious engagement.
"Rejoice, my lord!" he said, approaching Khnum with a low bow, "His Highness asks me to tell you...."
He stopped breathless with hurry.
"Is His Highness safe?" Khnum asked, looking into the frightened face of the boy.
"Thanks be to Aton, he is safe now, but he has been in great danger. The riotous rabble is so turbulent, it is terrible.... His Highness will be here directly, he asks you to give him shelter."
"How many are coming with him?"