"Perchance. But exertion offends mine eyes in such delicious hours as these, and I will forego the homage for the sake of mine own sinews. Out with thy tidings."
"Thou dost remember thy friend and mine, that gentle genius, Kenkenes."
"I am not like to forget him so long as a bird sings or the Nile ripples make music. Osiris pillow him most softly."
"He is not dead, my Prince."
"Nay!" Rameses cried, sitting up. "The knave should be bastinadoed for the tears he wrung from us!"
"Thou wouldst deny my petition. I am come to implore thee to intercede for him."
Rameses bade him proceed.
"Thou art acquainted with the nature of Kenkenes, O Prince. He is a visionary—an idealist, and so firmly rooted are his beliefs that they are to his life as natural as the color of his eyes. He is a beauty-worshiper. Athor possesses him utterly, and her loveliness blinds him to all other things, particularly to his own welfare and safety.
"In the beginning he fell in love, and a soul like his in love is most unreasoning, immoderate and terribly faithful. The maiden is beautiful—I saw her—most divinely beautiful. She is wise, for I saw that also. She is good, for I felt it, unreasoning, and when a man hath a woman intuition, a god hath spoken the truth to his heart. But she is a slave—an Israelite."
"An Israelite!"