So the night wore on to its noon.

Masanath was becoming drowsy in spite of her determination to keep a
sleepless vigil until dawn, when she was aroused by a commotion in the
vicinity of the palace. There were indoor cries and shouts for help.

"A brawl," she thought. But the noise seemed to emerge into the
street, and there came the sound of flying footsteps and frantic knocks
upon doors without. The sound seemed to swell and spread abroad,
widening and heightening. Wild shrieks and husky broken shouts swept
up from all quarters of the town, and the whole air was full of a vast
murmur of many voices, calling and wailing, excited, tremulous and full
of fear.

Masanath passed into the outer room to the window that looked upon the
city.

Every house had a light, which flickered and appeared at this window
and that, and the streets were full of flying messengers, who cried out
as they ran. Now and then a chariot, drawn at full speed, dashed past,
and by the fluttering robes of the occupants Masanath guessed them to
be physicians. All Tanis was in uproar, and its alarm possessed her at
once.

She turned to awaken Nari, when she heard inside the palace excited
words and hurrying feet. Some one ran, barefoot, past her door,
calling under his breath upon the gods. At that moment an incisive
shriek cut the increasing murmur in the palace and died away in a long
shuddering wail of grief.

"Awake, awake, Nari!" Masanath cried, shaking the sleeping woman.
"Something has befallen the city. It is in the palace and everywhere."

Meanwhile a chorus of screams smote upon her ears and the wild outcries
of men filled the great palace with terrifying clamor.

Masanath, shaking with dread, wrung her hands and wept. Nari, stupid
with fear, sat up and listened.

Presently some one came running and beat, with frenzied hands, upon the
door.

"Open! Open! In the name of Osiris!" cried a voice which, though it
quaked with consternation, Masanath recognized as her father's.

She flew to the door and wrenched it open. Har-hat, half-dressed,
stood before it.

"Father, what manner of sending is this?" she cried.

"Death!" he panted. "Come with me!" He caught her arm and ran,
dragging her after him down the corridor, half-lighted, but murmurous
with sound.

"What is it, father?" she begged as he hurried her on.

"The gods only know. Rameses hath been smitten and is dying, or even
now is dead!"

"Rameses!" she b