“My lord,” said Merapi in a kind of cry, “I pray you go not, leaving me alone.”
“Why should I leave you, Lady? Come with me if you will.” She shook her head, saying:
“I dare not. Prince, there has been some charm upon me of late that draws me back to my own people. Twice in the night I have awakened and found myself in the gardens with my face set towards the north, and heard a voice in my ears, even that of my father who is dead, saying:
“‘Moon of Israel, thy people wander in the wilderness and need thy light.’
“It is certain therefore that if I came near to them I should be dragged down as wood is dragged of an eddy, nor would Egypt see me any more.”
“Then I pray you bide where you are, Merapi,” said the Prince, laughing a little, “since it is certain that where you go I must follow, who have no desire to wander in the wilderness with your Hebrew folk. Well, it seems that as you do not wish to leave Memphis and will not come with me, I must stay with you.”
Ki fixed his piercing eyes upon the pair of them.
“Let the Prince forgive me,” he said, “but I swear it by the gods that never did I think to live to hear the Prince Seti Meneptah set a woman’s whims before his honour.”
“Your words are rough,” said Seti, drawing himself up, “and had they been spoken in other days, mayhap, Ki——”
“Oh! my lord,” said Ki prostrating himself till his forehead touched the ground, “bethink you then how great must be the need which makes me dare to speak them. When first I came hither from the court of Tanis, the spirit that is within me speaking through my lips gave certain titles to your Highness, for which your Highness was pleased to reprove me. Yet the spirit in me cannot lie and I know well, and bid all here make record of my words, that to-night I stand in the presence of him who ere two moons have passed will be crowned Pharaoh.”