"Thou art a queen. What is she, a slave, to thee?"
"A sister, my comforter, my one friend!"
"Thou canst find sisters and comforters and friends among high-born women of Egypt. I had laid Kenkenes' folly concerning this Israelite to the moonshine genius in him. But the slave is a sorceress, for the madness touches whosoever looks upon her. Behold her worshipers—first, thy father, Kenkenes, Hotep and thyself, and the gods know whom else. She would better be curbed before she bewitches Egypt."
"It is her goodness and her grace that win, Rameses. If that be sorcery, let it prevail the world over. Give her freedom and save her spotlessness."
"Har-hat shall not take her, I promise thee. I shall send her back to her place in the brick-fields."
Masanath recoiled in horror. "To the brick-fields!" she cried. "Rachel to the brick-fields!"
"I have said. Her Israelitish spotlessness will be secure there, and the reduction of her charms will be the saving of Kenkenes."
"Alas! what have I done?" she cried. "I am as fit for the brick-fields as Rachel. O, if thou but knew her, Rameses!"
"Nay, it is as well that I do not; she might bewitch me. And seeing that she is born of slaves, how shall she be pampered above her parents? Put the folly from thy mind, Masanath, and trouble me not concerning a single slave. Shall I let one go, seeing that I am holding the body at the sacrifice of Egypt?"
Great was Masanath's distress to make her seize him so beseechingly.