, her heart will be touched, and she will come of herself to take,
among the women that dwell in your harem, the place which you will
assign to her."

"Did you question her servants and her slaves?" said the King. "The
stick loosens the most rebellious tongue, and suffering makes men and
women say what they would otherwise hide."

"Nofre and Souhem, her favourite maid and her oldest servant, told me
that they had noticed the bolts of the garden gate drawn back, that
probably their mistress had gone out that way. The gate opens on the
river, and the water does not preserve the track of boats."

"What did the boatmen of the Nile say?"

"They had seen nothing. One man alone said that a poorly dressed woman
crossed the stream with the first light of day; but it could not be the
beautiful and rich Tahoser, whose face you have yourself noticed, and
who walks like a queen in her superb garments."

Timopht's logic did not appear to convince the Pharaoh. He leaned his
chin on his hand and reflected for a few moments. Poor Timopht waited
in silence, fearing an explosion of fury. The King's lips moved as if he
were speaking to himself.

"That mean dress was a disguise. Yes, it must have been. Thus disguised,
she crossed to the other side of the river. Timopht is a fool, who
cannot see anything. I have a great mind to have him thrown to the
crocodiles or beaten to death. But what could be her reason? A maid of
high birth, the daughter of a high-priest, to escape thus from her
palace, alone and without informing any one of her intention! It may be
there is some love affair at the bottom of this mystery."

As this thought occurred to him, the Pharaoh's face flushed red as if
under the reflection of a fire; the blood had rushed from his heart to
his face. The redness was followed by dreadful pallor; his eyebrows
writhed like the uraeus in his diadem, his mouth was contracted, he
grated his teeth, and his face became so terrible that the terrified
Timopht fell on his face upon the pavement as falls a dead man.

But the Pharaoh resumed his coolness, his face regained its majestic,
weary, placid look, and seeing that Timopht did not rise, he kicked him
disdainfully.

When Timopht, who already saw himself stretched on the funeral bed
supported by jackal's feet in the Memnonia quarter, his side open, his
stomach emptied, and himself ready to be plunged into a bath of
pickle,--when Timopht raised himself, he dared not look up to t