sword in both his
hands, and rushed upon the advancing foe, slaying and slaying until he
himself was slain.

"Come with me, O Wife of a royal hero," said Tua to Asti, who had
covered her eyes with her hand, and was leaning against the wall.

"Widow, not wife, Queen. Did you not see his spirit pass?"

Then Tua led her up more steps to the top of the pylon tower, where Asti
sank down moaning in her misery. Tua walked to the outermost edge of the
tower and stood there waiting the end. It was the moment of dawn. On
the eastern horizon the red rim of the sun arose out of the desert in
a clear sky. There upon that lofty pinnacle, clad in shining mail, and
wearing a helm shaped like the crown of Lower Egypt, Tua stood in its
glorious rays that turned her to a figure of fire set above a world of
shadow. The thousands of the people watching from the streets below, and
from boats upon the Nile, saw her, and raised a shout of wonder and of
adoration.

"The Daughter of Amen-Ra!" they cried. "Behold her clad in the glory of
the god!"

Soldiers crept up the stairs to the pylon roof and saw her also, while,
now that the fray was ended, with them came the Prince Abi.

"Seize her," he panted, for the stairs were steep and robbed him of his
breath.

But the soldiers looked and shrank back before the Majesty of Egypt,
wrapped in her robe of light.

"We fear," they answered, "the ghost of Pharaoh stands before her."

Then Neter-Tua spoke, saying:

"Abi, once a Prince of Egypt and Hereditary Lord of Memphis, but now an
outcast murderer, black with the blood of your King, and of many a loyal
man, hear me, the anointed Queen of Egypt, hear me, O man upon whom I
decree the judgment of the first and second death. Come but one step
near to my Majesty, and before your eyes, and the eyes of all the
multitude who watch, I hurl myself from this hideous place into the
waters of the Nile. Yet ere I go to join dead Pharaoh, and side by side
with him to lay our plaint against you before the eternal gods, listen
to our curse upon you. From this day forward a snake shall prey upon
your vitals, gnawing upwards to your heart. The spirits of Pharaoh and
of all his servants whom you have slain shall haunt your sleep; never
shall you know one more hour of happy rest. Through life henceforth you
shall fly from a shadow, and if you climb a throne, it shall be such
a one as that on which I stand encircled with the perilous depths of
darkness. Thence