"And I have not won thee?" she asked, shrinking from him.
"Give me time—teach me more—return not to Goshen. Come back to
Memphis with me!" he begged in rapid words, pressing after her. "No
man uncovered so great a problem, alone, in a moment. How shall I find
God in an hour?"
"O had I the tongue of Miriam!" she exclaimed.
"Go not yet. Wilt thou give me up, after a single effort? Miriam could not win me, nor all thy priests. I shall be led by thee alone. A day longer—an hour—"
"But after the manner of man, thou wilt put off and wait and wait.
Thou art too able, Kenkenes, too full of power for aid of mine—"
"Rachel, if thou goest into Goshen—" he began passionately, but she clutched him wildly, as if to hold him, though death itself dragged at her fingers.
"Hide me!" she gasped in a terrified whisper. "The servant of Har-hat!"
At the mention of his enemy's name, Kenkenes turned swiftly about.
Two half-clad Nubians were at the river's edge, hauling up an elegant passage boat. It was deep of draft and had many sets of oars. Approaching over the sand, hesitatingly, and with timid glances toward the tomb beyond, were four others. The foremost was the youth he had seen in Thebes. The next wore a striped tunic. Fourth and last was Unas.
"Now, by my soul," Kenkenes exclaimed aloud, "there is no more mystery concerning the boy." He turned and took Rachel in his arms.