Rachel could say no more, for in this sorrow no comfort could avail.
She stroked the little Egyptian's hair and let the wounded heart soothe itself.
Presently Masanath's mind wandered from the new villainy of her father to the memory of the older offense and she wept afresh.
"If thou goest, Rachel, there is none left to comfort me," she mourned.
"I am alone—desolate, and the powers of Egypt are arrayed against me!"
Rachel was hearing her own plight given expression. She put aside any
thought of herself and applied herself to Masanath's need.
"Nay, there is Hotep," she whispered. "He loves thee, and if there is aught in prophecy, he will comfort thee when I am gone."
"But thou shalt not go," Masanath cried. "Stay with me, Rachel."
"Thy father's servant returneth in twenty days. As I have said, if I go now, I can reach my people and be hidden safely."
The Egyptian held fast to the Israelite and wept.
"Nay, Rachel. Stay with me. Thou art all I have!"
Rachel turned her head and gazed toward the south. Across the housetops, the far-off sickle of the Nile curved into a crevice between the hills and disappeared. Somewhere beyond that blue and broken sky-line her last claim to Egypt had been lost. Why should she stay when Kenkenes was gone? Meanwhile Masanath went on pleading.