like ships as they rush upon their radiant way. I told
her many things, and amongst them how, through the certain never-ceasing
movement of the orbs of light, the planet Venus, that was called Donaou
when she showed as the Morning Star, became the planet Bonou when she
came as the sweet Star of Eve. And while I stood and spoke watching the
stars, she sat, her hands clasped upon her knee, and watched my face.

"Ah!" she broke in at length, "and so Venus is to be seen both in the
morning and the evening sky. Well, of a truth, she is everywhere, though
she best loves the night. But thou lovest not that I should use these
Latin names to thee. Come, we will talk in the ancient tongue of Khem,
which I know well; I am the first, mark thou, of all the Lagidae who know
it. And now," she went on, speaking in my own tongue, but with a little
foreign accent that did but make her talk more sweet, "enough of stars,
for, when all is said, they are but fickle things, and perhaps may
even now be storing up an evil hour for thee or me, or for both of us
together. Not but what I love to hear thee speak of them, for then thy
face loses that gloomy cloud of thought which mars it and grows quick
and human. Harmachis, thou art too young for such a solemn trade;
methinks that I must find thee a better. Youth comes but once; why waste
it in these musings? It is time to think when we can no longer act. Tell
me how old art thou, Harmachis?"

"I have six-and-twenty years, O Queen," I answered, "for I was born in
the first month of Shomou, in the summer season, and on the third day of
the month."

"Why, then, we are of an age even to a day," she cried, "for I too have
six-and-twenty years, and I too was born on the third day of the first
month of Shomou. Well, this may we say: those who begot us need have no
shame. For if I be the fairest woman in Egypt, methinks, Harmachis, that
there is in Egypt no man more fair and strong than thou, ay, or more
learned. Born of the same day, why, 'tis manifest that we were destined
to stand together, I, as the Queen, and thou, perchance, Harmachis, as
one of the chief pillars of my throne, and thus to work each other's
weal."

"Or maybe each other's woe," I answered, looking up; for her sweet
speeches stung my ears and brought more colour to my face than I loved
that she should see there.

"Nay, never talk of woe. Be seated here by me, Harmachis, and let us
talk, not as Queen and subject, but as friend to