populace, but not for my actions? Thou art
silent? Answer me now, if thou art such a one as I took the for, freely
and sincerely; for it concerns the peace of my soul." Pentaur breathed
hard; and then from the depths of his soul, tormented by doubts, these
deeply-felt words forced themselves as if wrung from him; at first
softly, but louder as he went on.

"Thou dost compel me to say what I had better not even think; but rather
will I sin against obedience than against truth, the pure daughter of the
Sun, whose aspect, Bent-Anat, thou dost wear. Whether the paraschites is
unclean by birth or not, who am I that I should decide? But to me this
man appeared--as to thee--as one moved by the same pure and holy emotions
as stir and bless me and mine, and thee and every soul born of woman; and
I believe that the impressions of this hour have touched thy soul as well
as mine, not to taint, but to purify. If I am wrong, may the many-named
Gods forgive me, Whose breath lives and works in the paraschites as well
as in thee and me, in Whom I believe, and to Whom I will ever address my
humble songs, louder and more joyfully, as I learn that all that lives
and breathes, that weeps and rejoices, is the image of their sublime
nature, and born to equal joy and equal sorrow."

Pentaur had raised his eyes to heaven; now they met the proud and joyful
radiance of the princess' glance, while she frankly offered him her hand.
He humbly kissed her robe, but she said:

"Nay--not so. Lay thy hand in blessing on mine. Thou art a man and a true
priest. Now I can be satisfied to be regarded as unclean, for my father
also desires that, by us especially, the institutions of the past that
have so long continued should be respected, for the sake of the people.
Let us pray in common to the Gods, that these poor people may be released
from the old ban. How beautiful the world might be, if men would but let
man remain what the Celestials have made him. But Paaker and poor Nefert
are waiting in the scorching sun-come, follow me."

She went forward, but after a few steps she turned round to him, and
asked:

"What is thy name?"

"Pentaur."

"Thou then art the poet of the House of Seti?"

"They call me so."

Bent-Anat stood still a moment, gazing full at him as at a kinsman whom
we meet for the first time face to face, and said:

"The Gods have given thee great gifts, for thy glance reaches farther and
pierces deeper than that of other men; and t