fter a long time
he succeeded in choking his anger, disgust and grief, realizing that
each moment must be turned to account rather than wasted in railing.

He viewed the situation with enforced calm. Har-hat was in full
possession of the facts. He had the signet and was absolute master of
Meneptah. The Hathors had surrendered Kenkenes wholly into the hands
of his enemy. Furthermore, the fate of the Israelite seemed to be
sealed. At the thought Hotep gnashed his teeth.

In his sympathy for his friend's strait, the scribe gave over his
objections to Rachel. Kenkenes had suffered for her, and, if he would,
he should have her.

Between the king and persuasion was Har-hat, vitally interested in the
defeat of any movement toward the aid of Kenkenes. The one hope for
the sculptor was the winning over of the Pharaoh, and only one could do
it. And that was Rameses, who was betrothed to the love of Hotep, and
against her will.

Nothing could have appeared more distasteful to the scribe than the
necessity of prayer to the man for whom he cherished a hate that
threatened to make a cinder of his vitals. But the more he rebelled
the more his conscience urged him.

He flung himself on his couch and writhed; he reviled the Hathors,
abused Kenkenes for the folly of sacrilege which had brought on him
such misfortune; he execrated Meneptah, anathematized Har-hat and
called down the fiercest maledictions on the head of Rameses. Having
relieved himself, he arose and, summoning his servant, had his
disordered hair dressed, fresh robes brought for him, and a glass of
wine for refreshment. On the way to the palace-top he met Ta-user,
walking slowly away from the staircase. Rameses, solitary and
luxurious, was stretched upon a cushioned divan in the shadow of a
canopy over the hypostyle.

"The gods keep thee, Son of the Sun," Hotep said.

"So it is thou, Hotep. Nay, but I am glad to see thee. Methought
Ta-user meant to visit me just now. Is there a taboret near?"

"Aye, but I shall not sit, my Prince."

"Go to! It makes me weary to see thee stand. Sit, I tell thee!"

Hotep drew up the taboret and sat.

"I come to thee with news and a petition," he began. "It is more
fitting that I should kneel."

"Perchance. But exertion offends mine eyes in such delicious hours as
these, and I will forego the homage for the sake of mine own sinews.
Out with thy tidings."

"Thou dost remember thy friend and mine, that gentle