“That is wise,” said the widow; “let the seaports of the Red Sea be watched too, and the public writers. When you are king, you can distinguish those who are affected for or against you.”
Ani shook his head and replied:
“That would put me in a difficult position; for it I were to punish those who are now faithful to their king, and exalt the others, I should have to govern with unfaithful servants, and turn away the faithful ones. You need not color, my kind friend, for we are kin, and my concerns are yours.”
Katuti took the hand he offered her and said:
“It is so. And I ask no further reward than to see my father’s house once more in the enjoyment of its rights.”
“Perhaps we shall achieve it,” said Ani; “but in a short time if—if—Reflect, Katuti; try to find out, ask your daughter to help you to the utmost. Who is it that she—you know whom I mean—Who is it that Bent-Anat loves?”
The widow started, for Ani had spoken the last words with a vehemence very foreign to his usual courtliness, but soon she smiled and repeated to the Regent the names of the few young nobles who had not followed the king, and remained in Thebes. “Can it be Chamus?” at last she said, “he is at the camp, it is true, but nevertheless—”
At this instant Nemu, who had not lost a word of the conversation, came in as if straight from the garden and said:
“Pardon me, my lady; but I have heard a strange thing.”
“Speak,” said Katuti.