ery learned, for priests and priestesses taught her
all things that she ought to know, together with the arts of playing
on the harp and of singing and dancing, while her own excellent Spirit,
that Ka which Amen had given her, instructed her in a deeper wisdom
which she gathered unconsciously in sleep and waking dreams, as the
slumbering earth gathers dew at night.

Moreover, her father, the wise old Pharaoh, opened to her the craft of
statesmanship, by help of which she might govern men and overthrow her
enemies. Indeed, he did more, for when her education was finished, he
joined her with him in the government of Egypt, saying:

"I who always lacked bodily strength, grow aged and feeble. This mighty
crown is too heavy for me to bear alone. Daughter, you must share its
weight."

So the young Neter-Tua became a queen, and great was the ceremony of her
coronation. The high priests and priestesses, clothed in the robes
and symbols of their gods and goddesses, addressed speeches to her and
blessed her in their names, giving her every good gift and promising to
her eternal life. Princes and nobles made her offerings; foreign chiefs
and kings bowed before her by their ambassadors. The Counts and headmen
of the Two Lands swore allegiance to her, and, finally, in the presence
of all the Court, Pharaoh himself set the double crown upon her brow
and gave her her throne-names of "Glorious in Ra and Hathor Strong in
Beauty."

So for a while Tua sat splendid on her golden seat while the people
adored her, but in that triumphant hour her eyes searched for one face
only, that of the tall and gallant captain, Rames, her foster-brother,
and for a moment rested there content. Yes, their eyes met, those of
the new-crowned Empress on her throne and of the youthful noble in the
throng below. Short was the greeting, for next instant she looked away,
yet more full of meaning than whole days of speech.

"The Queen does not forget what the child remembered, the goddess is
still a woman," it seemed to say. And so sweet was that message that
Rames staggered from the Court like one stricken by the sun.

Night came at last, and having dismissed her secretaries, scribes and
tire-women the weary girl, now clad in simple white, sat in her chamber
alone. She thought of all the splendours through which she had passed;
she thought of the glories of her imperial state, of the power that she
wielded, and of the proud future which stretched before