e nobleman
came before we could get away."

Kenkenes knew by her choice of words that she did not know the name of
her persecutor, and he did not tell her what it was. He could not bear
the name of Har-hat on her lips. She went on, after a little silence.

"I came--" she began, coloring deeply, "to leave thy collar with the
statue--I did not expect to find thee there."

How little it takes to dispirit a lover! How could he know that any
thought had led her to do that thing save an impulse actuated by
indifference or real dislike? His hope was immediately reduced to the
lowest ebb. The mention of the taskmaster's name brought forward the
probability of a rival.

"I can take thee back to Atsu," he said slowly. "These menials will
not remain in the hills after sunset, and under cover of night I can
slip thee, by strategy, past any sentries they may have set and get
thee to Atsu. I, by my sacrilege, and he by his insubordination, are
both under ban of the law, but danger with him will be sweeter danger
than peril with me, I doubt not."

She looked at him, and the hurt that began to show on her face gave
place to puzzlement.

"Is it not so?" he asked with a bitter smile. "The companionship of
ones beloved works wonders out of heavy straits!"

"But--. Dost thou--? Atsu is naught to me," she cried, her grave face
brightening.

The blood surged back to his cheeks and the life into his eyes. He
leaned toward her, ready to ask for more enlightenment concerning her
conduct, when she went on dreamily: "But he is wondrous kind and hath
made the camp bright with his humanity. Israel loveth Atsu."

Kenkenes turned again to the perplexity in hand.

"I came this morning to ask thy permission to give thee thy freedom. I
doubt not Israel of Masaarah, hidden in a niche in the hills, does not
dream that it is the plan of the Pharaoh--nay, the heir to the crown of
Egypt by the mouth of the Pharaoh--to exterminate the Hebrews." Rachel
recoiled from him.

"What sayest thou?" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with terror.

"Nay, forgive me!" he said penitently. "So intent was I on thy rescue
that I forgot to soften my words. Let it be. It is said; I would it
were not true."

Her affright was only momentary, for her faith restored her ere his
last words were spoken.

"It will not come to pass," she declared. "Jehovah will not suffer it.
Thou shalt see--and let the Pharaoh beware!" Her words were vehement
and sh