"No, no! I cannot tell Remeses! He must never know of these letters!" she almost shrieked.
"Has Remeses any suspicion of the tale they tell?" I asked.
"No. He knows no other mother. If he hears this story, he will investigate it to the last, to show me that he would prove it false in the mouth of Mœris."
"And this he ought to do, your majesty," I said, firmly.
"Prince Sesostris, dost thou believe he could prove it false?" she demanded, in a mysterious and strange tone.
"Undoubtedly," I answered; though, my dear mother, I could not wholly resist the recollection, which forced itself upon me most sharply and painfully, of the resemblance I had noticed between Remeses and the Hebrew people. But I banished the idea it suggested, regarding it more probable for an Egyptian and Hebrew to look alike, than for Remeses to have been born a Hebrew, and adopted by Pharaoh's daughter. Nevertheless, there was apparent to myself a want of fulness in my tones when I answered her "undoubtedly."
The queen came close up to me, and said in a deep, terrible whisper, looking first wildly around her, to see if any one overheard her,—
"He cannot prove it false!"
"You mean, O queen," said I, "that though Remeses cannot prove it false, it nevertheless is false?"
"No. It cannot be proven false, because it is TRUE!" she answered, as if her voice came from within a sarcophagus.