stic pillars, its
distances and sonorous echoes, her littleness was pathetically
accentuated.

Outside the shelter of her litter, she felt stripped of all protection.
She dared not look at the ranks of courtiers, lest her gaze fall on the
fair face of the royal scribe. She reminded Isis of her threat and moved
into the open space, which extended down the center of the hall.

Har-hat, glittering with gems, and rustling in snow-white robes,
approached with triumph in his face to embrace her. But within three
steps he paused as suddenly as though he had been commanded. Masanath
had not spoken, but her pretty chin had risen, her mouth curved
haughtily, and the gaze she fixed upon him from under her lashes was cold
and forbidding.

She extended the tips of her fingers to him. The action clamored its
meaning. Not in the face of that assembly dared he disregard it, but his
black eyes hardened and flashed threateningly. The warning given, he
bent his knee and kissed the proffered hand. He had become the subject
of his daughter.

She suffered him to lead her to the royal dais where she knelt. The
queen descended, raised her and led her to the throne. Meneptah met
them, kissed Masanath's forehead, and blessed her. The queen embraced
her and returned to her place beside the Pharaoh.

Masanath turned to the right of the royal dais and faced the prince.
Thus far, her greetings had not been hard. Now was the supreme test.
Har-hat conducted her within a few paces of the prince and stepped aside.
What followed was to prove Masanath's willingness.

Rameses stood in the center of a slightly raised platform, which was
carpeted with gold-edged purple. Behind him was his great chair. But
for the badge of princehood, the fringed ribbon dependent from a
gem-crusted annulet over each temple, his habiliments were the same as
the Pharaoh's.

Masanath gave him a single comprehensive glance. She was to wed against
her will, but she noted philosophically that she was to wed with no
puppet, but a kingly king. With all that, admitting herself a peer to
this man, it wrenched her sorely to acknowledge subserviency to him.

Hope dead--the hour of her trial at hand--nothing was left to uphold her
but the memory of the good she might do for Hotep. Her face fell and she
approached the prince with slow steps. Within three paces of the
platform she paused and sank to her knees.

It was done. She had acknowledged the betrothal and