“That Zelas is true to me, I now know, beyond all doubt. Zelas, Hatsu’s uncle! Of what sad comminglings are we made! my soul and heart are crying out in pity, and yet my mortal mind, my scholar’s questioning, urges me on——”
But—he pauses—his quick ear detects a footstep—and looking up he sees coming slowly toward him the Princess.
She walks with her lithe young body held erect, as though the generations of poising the urn upon the shoulder, had made a graceful carriage of the body, an Egyptian woman’s distinguishing characteristic.
As she draws still nearer, Alric kneels, and with bowed head awaits her command, “to rise.”
“Faithful Friend,” said the sweet low voice “rejoice with me, my mission has prospered, on the morrow I go out of this city of sorrow, to meet, and to greet my sovereign lord, the King; my husband, that is to be.”
Alric took the hem of the Princess’ robe, and touched it to his lips.
“All hail sovereign Queen!” he said softly. “Egypt’s sun by day, her moon by night.”
It was merciful, that he could not see the look of hungry, wistful woman’s love, that she bent upon him, kneeling there; but he could hear, the quick fluttering breaths. He could see the jewelled hands, held tight against her beating heart.
“My queen,” he said, “here among your sacred dead, I give my life, to your service.”
He had risen and they were looking into each other’s faces; then, as if recalling Miriam for the first time, the princess with anxious eyes sought her maid, and seeming in one glance, to realize what Alric had done, her pale face flushed, and her gray eyes showed angry light.