Then, at the bidding of Hatsu, the door swung back, and two by two, there entered a company of youths, each bearing golden lamps.
Following the youths came a man, holding a golden salver, on which lay a small parchment scroll. Bowing low (not kneeling), he presented it to the Princess, who received it and read aloud the contents, in a clear, quiet voice.
“Hatsu, Daughter of our Departed Lord, and King. All Hail! It is the will of the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe, Osirus, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, that thou (accompanied by thine Israelitish handmaiden, Miriam) follow Alric, the bearer of this scroll, without question, through the Palace of Tears, even down into the subterranean grotto, known to the faithful of Mizram as the labyrinth of Death. At a certain place by the way, at Alric’s bidding, leave the handmaiden, and the captain of the King’s guards, and take thy way alone, even unto the doorway that opens into the Temple of Osirus in the city of Abydos. Come thither, oh daughter of a great King, wife to be of our sainted Monarch, and on thy lonely way give thy soul into Osirus’ care and keeping. This, O Princess, is the will of Zelas the High Priest.”
When the last word had been read the Princess raised the scroll to her lips, then tying it with the red silken cord, she put it into the bosom of her gown. Raising her gray eyes and looking for the first time at the captain of the King’s guard, she said, slowly and distinctly:
“Lead the way, and Miriam and Hatsu will follow thee.”
CHAPTER III.
Miriam stood watching in silence the form of her mistress the Princess Hatsu until she had disappeared from sight in a curve of the avenue, or path, then she sat herself down upon a stone bench, and with closed eyes and folded hands sent prayers—like white-winged angels—to keep the Princess company.
So earnest was her thought that she had quite forgotten the companionship of the captain of the King’s guard, until the sound of his voice called her back to her immediate surroundings.
“She is indeed brave of heart is the Princess,” said the captain, a ring of enthusiasm sounding through his words. “There are not many women, old or young, that would start on this journey with no consciousness of fear, for, setting all thought of superstition aside, it is a grewsome place. There is not, I assure you, a foot of the entire way from here to the Temple, that does not afford sepulchre to some lifeless object, once an animated ‘I am,’ now a hideous semblance, an ugly jest upon being.”