"Nay; the process is longer and more natural," the prince replied carelessly. "It is but the same method of the mines. Who can call death by hard labor, murder?"
The full brutality of the prince's meaning struck home. Kenkenes gripped the arm of Ta-meri's chair with such power that the sinews stood up rigid and white above the back of the brown hand. Luckily, all of the guests were contemplating Rameses with more or less horror. They did not see the color recede from the young artist's face or his eyes ignite dangerously.
Masanath sat up very straight and leveled a pair of eyes shining with accusation at the prince.
"Of a truth, was thine the fiat?" she demanded.
"Even so, thou lovely magistrate," he answered with an amused smile.
"Was it not a masterful one?"
Hotep delivered her a warning glance, but she did not heed it. Austere
Ma, the Defender of Truth, could have been as easily crushed.
"Masterful!" she cried. "Nay! Menes, lend me thy word. Of all Set-given, pitiless, atrocious edicts, that is the cruelest! Shame on thee!"
At her first words, Rameses raised himself from his attitude of languor into an upright and intensely alert position. The company ceased to breathe, but Kenkenes heaved a soundless sigh of relief. Masanath had uttered his denunciations for him.
Meanwhile the prince's eyes began to sparkle, a rich stain grew in his cheeks and when she made an end he was the picture of animated delight. For the first time in his life he had been defied and condemned.
But his gaze did not disturb Masanath. Her eyes dared him to resent her censure. The prince had no such purpose in mind.