did I should in fact be scourged, for my master and I love each other.
Neither of us wishes to see the other scourged, though such is my lot
to-night," and he glanced at Amada. "I have said."

Then at last Amada spoke.

"Had I known all this story from the first, perhaps I should not have
done what I have done to-day and perhaps I should have forgiven and
forgotten, for in truth even if the dwarf still lies, I believe your
word, O Shabaka, and understand how all came about. But now it is too
late to change. Say, O Priest of the Mother, is it not too late?"

"It is too late," said the priest solemnly, "seeing that if such vows
as yours are broken for the second time, O Prophetess, the curse of the
goddess will pursue you and him for whom they were broken, yes, through
this life and all other lives that perchance may be given to you upon
the earth or elsewhere."

"Pharaoh," I cried in despair, "I made a bond with you. It is recorded
in writing and sealed. I have kept my part of the bond; my treasure you
have spent; your enemies I have slain; your army I have commanded not so
ill. Will you not keep yours and bid the priests release this lady from
her vow and give her to me to whom she was promised? Or must I believe
that you refuse, not because of goddesses and vows, but because yonder
is the Royal Lady of Egypt, the true heiress to the throne who might
perchance bear children, which as prophetess of Isis she can never do.
Yes, because of this and because of certain cries that came to your ears
in the hour of your crowning before Amen-ra and all the gods?"

Peroa flushed as he heard me and answered,

"You speak roughly, Cousin, and were you any other man I might be
tempted to answer roughly. But I know that you suffer and therefore I
forgive. Nay, you must believe no such things. Rather must you remember
that in this bond of which you speak, it was set down that I only
promised you the lady Amada with her own consent, and this she has
withdrawn."

"Then, Pharaoh, hearken! To-morrow I leave Egypt for another land,
giving you back your generalship and sheathing the sword that I had
hoped to wield in its defence and yours when the last great day of trial
by battle comes, as come it will. I tell you that I go to return no
more, unless the lady Amada yonder shall summon me back to fight for her
and you, promising herself to me in guerdon."

"That can never be," said Amada.

Then I became aware of another presence in