"Yes, yes. Go on—what else?" Michael's voice trembled with impatience.
"There was one word he used which I have forgotten . . . and it meant everything. I wish I could remember it! It's a name I never heard before."
"Think," Michael said, "do try to think—it may come to you." Margaret noticed that he was trying to hide his excitement; he was more nervous than she was.
"He spoke of someone as God, and said beautiful things about Him . . . this God, of everlasting mercy . . . those were his words. . . . Oh, I remember the name!" she cried. "It was Aton—it seemed to be the name of his God. He spoke of Aton as St. Francis spoke of Christ. Aton was in the birds and fishes and flowers and in the cool streams."
Michael turned round and grasped Margaret's hand. He was trembling with excitement; he could hide it no longer.
"It was Akhnaton! Oh, Meg, how wonderful! Tell me everything . . . the spirit of Akhnaton!"
"But who was Akhnaton? I am in the dark. He said he was Aton's messenger."
"First tell me all you can remember."
Margaret tried to recall everything that the Pharaoh had said to her. His exact words she could not repeat, but their essence she contrived to convey quite clearly to the listening Michael.
"Akhnaton," he kept murmuring. "It must be Akhnaton . . . a message to me through you!"