Long and earnestly she looked at it, then having glanced round to make sure she was alone, she pressed it to her lips and kissed it thrice with passion, muttering I know not what between the kisses. Now the scales fell from my eyes and I knew that she loved Seti, and oh! how I thanked my guardian god who had saved me from such useless shame.
I wiped the cold damp from my brow and was about to flee away, discovering myself with as few words as might be, when, looking up, I saw standing behind Merapi the figure of a man, who was watching her replace the ornament in her robe. While I hesitated a moment the man spoke and I knew the voice for that of Seti. Then again I thought of flight, but being somewhat timid by nature, feared to show myself until it was too late, thinking that afterward the Prince would make me the target of his wit. So I sat close and still, hearing and seeing all despite myself.
“What gem is that, Lady, which you admire and cherish so tenderly?” asked Seti in his slow voice that so often hid a hint of laughter.
She uttered a little scream and springing up, saw him.
“Oh! my lord,” she exclaimed, “pardon your servant. I was sitting here in the cool, as you gave me leave to do, and the moon was so bright—that—I wished to see if by it I could read the writing on this scarab.”
Never before, thought I to myself, did I know one who read with her lips, though it is true that first she used her eyes.
“And could you, Lady? Will you suffer me to try?”
Very slowly and colouring, so that even the moonlight showed her blushes, she withdrew the ornament again and held it towards him.
“Surely this is familiar to me? Have I not seen it before?” he asked.
“Perhaps. I wore it that night in the temple, your Highness.”