fferent rank between them was not characteristic of other slaves
he had known. There was no presumption or humble gratitude in her
manner when he would offer her the courtesies of an equal, but he had
met the disdain of a peer once when he thought he talked with a slave.
There was something mocking in her perfunctory deference, but her pride
was genuine. Her conduct seemed to say: "I would liefer be a Hebrew
and a slave than a princess of the God-forgotten realm of Egypt."

The young sculptor was unruffled, however. He was turning over in his
mind, with interest, the evidence that tended to show that the
Israelite had something more to tell him, that her courage had failed
her, and that her hand had sought something concealed in her dress. He
recalled the former meetings with her and arrived at a surmise so
sudden and so conclusive that with difficulty he kept himself from
making outward demonstration of his conviction. "The collar, by Apis!
I offended her with the trinket. And she came to make me take it back,
but her courage fled. Pie upon my clumsy gallantries! I must make
amends. I would not have her hate me."

He broke the silence with an old, old remark--one that Adam might have
made to Eve.

"Look at the stars, Rachel. There is a dark casement in the heavens--a
blink of the eye and the lamp is alight."

"So I watch them every night. But they are swifter here in Memphis.
At Mendes, where Israel toiled once, they are more deliberate," she
answered readily.

"Aye, but you should see them at Philae. They ignite and bound into
brilliance like sparks of meeting metal and flint. Ah, but the tropics
are precipitate!"

"I know them not," she ventured.

"Their acquaintance is better avoided. They have no mean--they leap
from extreme to extreme. They are violent, immoderate. It is instant
night and instant day; it is the maddest passion of summer always.
Nature reigns at the top of her voice and chokes her realm with the
fervor of her maternity. Nay, give me the north. I would feel the
earth's pulse now and then without burning my fingers."

"There is room for choice in this land of thine," she mused after a
little.

"Land of mine?" he repeated inquiringly, turning his head to look at
her. "Is it not also thine?"

"Nay, it is not the Hebrews' and it never was," the clear answer came
from the dusk behind him.

"So!" he exclaimed. "After four hundred years in Egypt they have not
adopted her!