p and cares of royalty and who, deprived of
these, still possess all that I can desire. I go my way henceforward
as one of many, a noble of Egypt--no more, and if in a day to come it
pleases the Pharaoh to be to shorten my wanderings, I am not sure that
even then I shall grieve so very much, who am content to accept the
judgment of the gods, as in the end he must do also. Yet, Pharaoh my
father, before we part I ask leave to speak the thoughts that rise in
me."

"Say on," muttered Meneptah.

"Pharaoh, having your leave, I tell you that I think you have done a
very evil work this day, one that is unpleasing to those Powers which
rule the world, whoever and whatsoever they may be, one too that will
bring upon Egypt sorrows countless as the sand. I believe that these
Hebrews whom you unjustly seek to slay worship a god as great or greater
than our own, and that they and he will triumph over Egypt. I believe
also that the mighty heritage which you have taken from me will bring
neither joy nor honour to him by whom it has been received."

Here Amenmeses started forward, but Meneptah held up his hand, and he
was silent.

"I believe, Pharaoh--alas! that I must say it--that your days on
earth are few and that for the last time we look on each other living.
Farewell, Pharaoh my father, whom still I love mayhap more in this hour
of parting than ever I did before. Farewell, Amenmeses, Prince of Egypt.
Take from me this ornament which henceforth should be worn by you only,"
and lifting from his headdress that royal circlet which marks the heir
to the throne, he held it to Amenmeses, who took it and, with a smile of
triumph, set it on his brow.

"Farewell, Lords and Councillors; it is my hope that in yonder prince
you will find a master more to your liking that ever I could have been.
Come, Ana, my friend, if it still pleases you to cling to me for a
little while, now that I have nothing left to give."

For a few moments he stood still looking very earnestly at his father,
who looked back at him with tears in his deep-set, faded eyes.

Then, though whether this was by chance I cannot say, taking no note of
the Princess Userti, who gazed at him perplexed and wrathful, Seti drew
himself up and cried in the ancient form:

"Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!" and bowed almost to
the ground.

Meneptah heard. Muttering beneath his breath, "Oh! Seti, my son, my most
beloved son!" he stretched out his arms as thoug