ed her lips to
the hand lying nearest her.

"Give me ear, then," she continued. "Thou hast among thy ministers a
noble genius, the murket, Mentu--"

The king broke in with a dry smile. "Wouldst have him for a mate?"

She shook her head till the emeralds pendent from the fillet on her
forehead clinked together. Nothing could have been more childlike than
the pleased smile on her face.

"Nay, nay, he would not have me," she protested. "But he hath a son."

Har-hat moved forward a pace. She noted the movement and playfully
waved him back. "Encroach not. This hour is mine." Har-hat's face
wore a dubious smile.

"He hath a son," she repeated.

"He had a son, but he is dead," the king answered.

"Not so! He is in prison where thy counselor, the wicked, unfeeling,
jealous, rapacious Har-hat hath entombed him!"

Har-hat sprang forward as the king lifted an amazed and angry face.

"Back!" she cried, motioning at him with her full arm. "It is time the
Hathors overtook thee, thou ineffable knave!"

"I protest!" the fan-bearer cried, losing his temper.

"Enough of this play," Meneptah said sternly. "Go on with thy tale,
Ta-user. I would know the truth of this."

"Thou wilt not learn it from the princess," Har-hat exclaimed.

"Ah!" Ta-user ejaculated, a world of innocence, surprise and wounded
feeling in the word.

"Thy words do not become thee, Har-hat," Meneptah said. The fan-bearer
closed his lips and gazed fixedly at the princess.

She drooped her head and went on in a voice low with hurt.

"The gods judge me if my every word is not true! Har-hat imprisoned
him because the gallant young man loved the maiden whom Har-hat would
have taken for his harem."

Meneptah's face blazed. "Go on," he said sharply.

"The fan-bearer had some little right on his side, for the young man
had committed sacrilege in carving a statue, and had stolen the maiden
away and hidden her when Har-hat would have taken her. The maiden is
an Israelite, and her hiding-place is known to this day only by herself
and her unhappy lover. Now comes thy villainy, O thou short of
temper," she continued, looking at the fan-bearer.

"Thy father, O Shedder of Light, the Incomparable Pharaoh who reigns in
Osiris, gave Mentu a signet--"

The king interrupted. "I know of that. Go on."

"When Kenkenes was overtaken and thrust into prison he sent this signet
to thee, O my Sovereign, with a petition for his release and for the
mai