"A very good time you have chosen for it! The Pharaoh slew but a short time ago three messengers with a blow of his sceptre. He sits on his terrace, motionless and sinister like Typhon, the god of evil," said a soldier who condescended to give this explanation.
Ra'hel's maid endeavoured to force her way through; the javelins rattled on her head like hammers on an anvil. She began to yell like a bird plucked alive.
An officer came out on hearing the tumult; the soldiers stopped beating Thamar.
"What does this woman want?" said the officer, "and why are you beating her in this way?"
"I want to see the Pharaoh," cried Thamar, dragging herself to the knees of the officer.
"Out of the question," replied the latter; "it is out of the question,—even if, instead of being a low wretch, you were one of the greatest personages in the kingdom."
"I know where is Tahoser," whispered the old woman in his ear, laying stress on each syllable.
On hearing this, the officer took Thamar by the hand, led her through the first pylon and through the avenue of pillars and the hypostyle hall into a second court, where rose the granite sanctuary, with its two outer columns with lotus capitals. There, calling Timopht, he handed Thamar over to him.
Timopht led the servant to the terrace where sat the Pharaoh, gloomy and silent.
"Keep well out of the reach of his sceptre," was the advice Timopht gave to the Israelite.