d it not been for you,
Prince, by now, I----" and she shuddered.

"And had it not been for you, Moon of Israel, by now I----" and he
smiled, adding, "Surely Fate weaves a strange web round you and me.
First you save me from the sword; then I save you. I think, Lady, that
in the end we ought to die together and give Ana here stuff for the best
of all his stories. Friend Jabez," he went on to the Israelite who was
still crouching in the corner with the eyes starting from his head, "get
you back to your gentle-hearted people and make it clear to them why the
lady Merapi cannot companion you, taking with you that carrion to prove
your tale. Tell them that if they send more men to molest your niece a
like fate awaits them, but that now as before I do not turn my back upon
them because of the deeds of a few madmen or evil-doers, as I have given
them proof to-day. Ana, make ready, since soon I leave for Memphis.
See that the Lady Merapi, who will travel alone, has fit escort for her
journey, that is if it pleases her to depart from Tanis."

CHAPTER XI

THE CROWNING OF AMENMESES

Now, notwithstanding all the woes that fell on Egypt and a certain
secret sorrow of my own, began the happiest of the days which the gods
have given me. We went to Mennefer or Memphis, the white-walled city
where I was born, the city that I loved. Now no longer did I dwell in
a little house near to the enclosure of the temple of Ptah, which is
vaster and more splendid than all those of Thebes or Tanis. My home was
in the beautiful palace of Seti, which he had inherited from his mother,
the Great Royal Wife. It stood, and indeed still stands, on a piled-up
mound without the walls near to the temple of the goddess Neit, who
always has her habitation to the north of the wall, why I do not know,
because even her priests cannot tell me. In front of this palace,
facing to the north, is a great portico, whereof the roof is borne upon
palm-headed, painted columns whence may be seen the most lovely prospect
in Egypt. First the gardens, then the palm-groves, then the cultivated
land, then the broad and gentle Nile and, far away, the desert.

Here, then, we dwelt, keeping small state and almost unguarded, but in
wealth and comfort, spending our time in the library of the palace,
or in those of the temples, and when we wearied of work, in the lovely
gardens or, perchance, sailing upon the bosom of the Nile. The lady
Merapi dwelt there also, but in a separ