She swept past him—Oscar Oscarovitch, the man who aspired to the throne of the Eastern Empire of Europe—as though he had been one of his own slaves in the old days, and faced Phadrig.
"It is enough, Anemen-Ha that was. Hast thou not learned wisdom yet, after so many lives? Is the inmost chamber of thy soul still closed in rebellion against the precepts of the High Gods? No more of thy poor little mummeries for the deception of the ignorant! Go, and without further display of the weakness which thou hast presumptuously mistaken for strength. The Queen commands—go!"
Only Phadrig and Franklin Marmion saw that it was not Nitocris, the daughter of the English man of science, but the daughter of the great Rameses who stood there crowned and robed as Queen of the Two Kingdoms.
Phadrig raised the palms of his hands to his forehead, bowed before her, and murmured:
"The Queen has but to speak to be obeyed! It is even as I feared. But the Prince——"
"I who was and am, know what thou wouldst say. Go, or——"
"Royal Egypt, I go! But as thou art mighty, have mercy, and make the manner of my going easy."
Nitocris turned away with a gesture of utter contempt, walked slowly towards her father, and said in English:
"Dad, I think our friend the Adept is a little tired after his wonder-working. I dare say most of us would be if we could do what he has been doing. He seems quite exhausted. I think you had better ask the Prince to let his coachman take him home."
Oscar Oscarovitch's soul was in a tumult of bewilderment, but his almost perfect training made it possible for him to say as quietly as though he had been taking leave of his hostess at a reception in London: