. And have a care to
thyself."

Kenkenes hesitated a moment, and said at last:

"It may be that I shall not return, but I would have my father know
that I died not with the first-born. Wilt thou tell him, when thou
canst?"

"The word shall go to him by sunset to-morrow if I carry it myself."

Kenkenes expressed his thanks and the priest went on.

"Be not rash, I charge thee. Farewell, and thy father's gods attend
thee."

Without the dwarf pylons, Kenkenes bent for the old man's blessing and
turned away. Walking rapidly to the northern limits of the town, he
took the dusty highway again, and struck into an easy run.

The road sloped up toward the north, but the rise was gradual and the
ascent was not wearying. The miles slipped behind swiftly, for he
covered them as naturally as the unloitering bird traverses the air.

In two hours he had reached the pinnacle of the upland. To the north
the road led continuously down to the sea. He paused and looked back
over the long gentle declivity toward the south and west.

A sharp pain pierced him. In that moment, he realized that he was
expatriated. After he had warned Meneptah, Egypt dropped out of his
aims. Thereafter he had the rescue of Rachel, or her avenging to
accomplish, and the results following upon the necessity of either of
these alternatives would not permit him to return into the land of his
fathers. There was no turning back now, nor any desire in him to do
so. His conscience had been witness to the renunciation of his nation
and his faith, and it did not chide him.

Still he stretched out his arms to the limitless, featureless, velvety
dusk that was Egypt by day, and wept.

He entered Tanis in the middle of the third watch, and there he learned
that the Pharaoh had departed, but whither, the solemn, haggard
citizens he met could not tell. He repaired to the inn, a house of
mourning, also, and awaited the dawn. Then he looked on the funereal
capital of Meneptah. The city no longer cried out; it sighed or
sobbed, exhausted with its grief; it went the heavy round of labor
demanded by the necessities of life, bowed, disheveled and blinded with
woe. Kenkenes, humbled, sorrowful, and helpless, averted his eyes and
hurried to the palace.

There he found that the queen and Seti, with all the queen's retinue,
had departed on a pilgrimage to the temple of the sacred ram at Mendes
for the welfare of the soul of Rameses. Masanath was in Pelusium