“Supposing it were one of her lovers? They say she takes porters now!”
“No, it is a woman, I am sure of it.”
“By the two goddesses! it serves her right.”
“What is the matter? what is the matter?”
And a shrill voice dominating the tumult shouted over all their heads:
“The High-Priest’s wife has been killed!”
Violent consternation took possession of the crowd. It was incredible. People refuse to believe that so atrocious a murder could have been committed at the very height of the Aphrodisisæ, bringing down the wrath of the gods upon the town. But the same sentence passed from mouth to mouth in all directions:
“The wife of the High-Priest has been killed! The festival at the Temple is put off.”
News arrived rapidly. The body had been found, lying on a pink marble seat, in a lonely place, at the summit of the gardens.
A long golden pin penetrated her left breast; the wound had not bled; but the assassin had cut off all the young woman’s hair, and had carried away the antique comb of Queen Nitaoucrit.