ose work it was."

She paused and looked at him with appeal on her face.

"Thou hast told no one?"

"Nay," was the quick and earnest answer.

"Thou hast caught me in a falsehood," he said. The statement was
almost brutal in its directness.

But the question that came back swiftly was not less pointed.

"There was no frieze of bondmaidens--naught of anything thou hast told
me?"

"Nay, not anything. I am carving a statue against the canons of the
sculptor's ritual for the sake of my love of beauty. Until thou didst
come upon it, I alone possessed the secret. Thou knowest the
punishment which will overtake me?"

"Aye, I know right well. Yet fear not. The statue is right cunningly
concealed and none will ever find it, for the children were
unsuccessful and the meals for the overseer will be brought him from
the city hereafter. And I will not betray thee--I give thee my word."

Her tone was soft and earnest; her assurances were spoken so
confidently, her interest was so genuine, that a queer and
unaccountable satisfaction possessed the young artist at once.

At this moment the runaway water-bearers came in sight and in obedience
to very evident dismissal in the Israelite's eyes, Kenkenes bade her
farewell and left her.

But he had not gone two paces before she overtook him.

"Approach thy work from various directions," she cautioned, "else thou
wilt wear a path which may spy on thee one day."

The moment the words passed her lips, Kenkenes, who still held the
collar, put it about her neck, passing his hands under the thick
plaits, and snapped the clasp accurately.

The act was done instantly, and with but a single movement. He was
gone, laughing on his way, before she had realized what he had done.

There was revel in the young man's veins that evening, but the great
house of his father was silent and lonely. If he would find a
companion he must leave its heavy walls. His resolution was not long
in making nor his instinct slow in directing him. An hour after the
evening meal, when he entered the chariot that waited, he had laid
aside the simple tunic, and in festal attire was, every inch of his
many inches, the son of the king's favorite artist. His charioteer
drove in the direction of the nomarch's house.

The portress conducted him into the faintly lighted chamber of guests
and went forth silently. Kenkenes interpreted her behavior at once.

"There is another guest," he thought with a smil