the royal body-guard, the lesser
fan-bearers, the many minor attaches to the king's person--in all a
score of nobles.

They came upon a portentous scene.

The tumult of preparation had subsided and the hush of readiness lay
over the desert. The orders were to move the army at sunrise, and that
time was past. The pioneers, or path-makers for the army, were already
far in advance. Horses had been bridled and each soldier stood by his
mount. Captains with their eyes toward the royal pavilion moved about
restlessly and wondered. The high commanding officers absent, the next
in rank began to weigh their chances to assume command. Soldiers began
to surmise to one another the cause of the delay, which manifestly
found its origin in the quarters of the king.

All this was the environment of a hollow square formed by the royal
guard. Within was the Pharaoh, shrinking by the side of his messenger.
The messenger, taller, more powerful, it seemed, by the heightening and
strengthening force of righteous wrath, faced the mightiest man in the
kingdom. Har-hat, though a little surprised and puzzled, was none the
less complacent, confident, nonchalant. Near the fan-bearer, but
behind him, were the ministers, astonished and puzzled. But since the
past days had been so filled with momentous events, they were ready to
expect a crisis at the slightest incident.

The fan-bearer did not look at the king. It was Kenkenes who
interested him.

The young man's frame did not show a tremor, nor his face any
excitement. There was an intense quiescence in his whole presence.
Hotep, who knew the provocation of his friend and interpreted the
menace in his manner, walked swiftly over to Kenkenes, as if to caution
or prevent. But the young sculptor undid the small hands of the king,
clinging to his arm, and gave them to Hotep, halting, by that act, all
interference from the scribe. Then he crossed the little space between
him and the fan-bearer.

"What hast thou done with the Israelite?" he asked in a tone so low
that none but Har-hat heard him. But the fan-bearer did not doubt the
earnestness in the quiet demand.

"Hast thou come to trouble the king with thy petty loves, during this,
the hour of war?"

"Answer!"

"She escaped me," the fan-bearer answered.

"A lie will not save thee; the truth may plead for thee before Osiris.
Hast thou spoken truly?"

"I have said, as Osiris hears me. Have done; I have no more time for
t