“Sirs, I am Merapi, the daughter of Nathan the Levite, he whom the accursed Egyptian captain, Khuaka, murdered at Tanis.”
“How do you dare to call the Egyptians accursed?” asked Seti in tones made gruff to hide his laughter.
“Oh! Sirs, because they are—I mean because I thought you were Arabs who hate them, as we do. At least this Egyptian was accursed, for the high Prince Seti, Pharaoh’s heir, caused him to be beheaded for that crime.”
“And do you hate the high Prince Seti, Pharaoh’s heir, and call him accursed?”
She hesitated, then in a doubtful voice said:
“No, I do not hate him.”
“Why not, seeing that you hate the Egyptians of whom he is one of the first and therefore twice worthy of hatred, being the son of your oppressor, Pharaoh?”
“Because, although I have tried my best, I cannot. Also,” she added with the joy of one who has found a good reason, “he avenged my father.”
“This is no cause, girl, seeing that he only did what the law forced him to do. They say that this dog of a Pharaoh’s son is here in Goshen upon some mission. Is it true, and have you seen him? Answer, for we of the desert folk desire to know.”
“I believe it is true, Sir, but I have not seen him.”