"Didst thou, O prince," said I, as he returned to his seat by me, which he had left, in the excitement of his narrative, to pace the floor, "suspect the secret?"
"No," he answered gloomily; "no, Sesostris; nor do I now know what it can be; neither have I the least idea, unless—" Here he colored, and looked confused.
"Unless what?" I asked, painfully interested.
"Unless Mœris be the son of the Prince of the Thebaïd, and I the son of the brother of Pharaoh. In other words, that Mœris and Remeses have changed places, and that Mœris knows or suspects the fact."
"A most extraordinary idea!" I exclaimed; yet at the same time, I must confess that I was forcibly reminded of what I have before alluded to, dear mother, the total absence of all likeness between Remeses and his mother, Amense.
"What can possibly have suggested to your mind such a strange conjecture?" I added.
"A mystery, my dear Sesostris," he said, "calls into exercise the whole machinery of suspicion, and all the talent of investigation; and a hundred things, which before had only an ordinary signification, under its wand, take an importance and meaning wholly new. Irresistibly, my mother's anxiety to impress upon me that she had been 'all a mother could be to a son,' in connection with her whole manner, and especially her uncalled for reiterations of affection for me, and of appeals to my devotion to her;—all this rushed upon my memory, and with a dizzy brain, and a heart full of anguish, under the dreadful suspicion, I cried, 'Why must not Prince Mœris be made angry? Why may he not be prevented from doing thee harm?'
"'I have told you,' she replied, with a deadly pallor. 'Remeses, your roused spirit alarms me for us three.'
"'But I must oppose, and if necessary destroy him,' I said, in my emotion, 'who destroys my mother's peace.'
"'Yes, I am thy mother. Thou art a son to me. I know thou wilt protect me from this prince-nephew,' she said, in broken sentences. 'He shall not come between me and thee, and the throne.'