"Thou—thou—" he said at last, his words coming slowly by reason of his emotions. "The Israelite rejected thee!"
Kenkenes bent his head in assent.
"Thou! A prince among men—a nobleman, a genius—a man whom all women—Kenkenes! by Horus, I am amazed! And thou didst endure it, and continue to love and serve and suffer for her! Where is thy pride?"
Kenkenes stopped him with a motion of his hand.
"A maid's unwillingness is obstacle enough," he said. "Shall a man summon further difficulty in the form of his self-esteem to stand in the way of his love? Nay, it could not be, and that thou knowest, my father, since thou, too, hast loved. When a man is in love it is his pride to be long-suffering and humble. But there is naught separating us now save it be the hand of Har-hat."
"So much for Israelitish zeal! Thou hast been a pawn for her to play during these months. Long ago had she surrendered if thou hadst been—"
Kenkenes smiled. "She did not surrender. It was I."
"Thy faith?" the murket asked in a voice low with earnestness.
"Thou hast said!"
A dead silence ensued. Kenkenes may have awaited the outbreak with a quickening of the heart, but it did not come. Instead, the murket sat down on the bench and gazed at his son intently.