on. Moreover,
forgive me, but when you come into my presence you must bow, which I
shall like less than you do, but it is the custom of the Ethiopians.
Oh! I would that you were the king and that I were your friend, for
henceforth good-bye to ease and jollity."

I laughed, but Bes did not laugh at all, only turned to his wife who
already ruled him as though he were indeed a slave, and said, "Lady
Karema, make yourself as beautiful as you can and forget that you have
ever been a Cup or anything useful, since henceforth you must be a
queen, that is if you please my people."

"And what happens if I do not please them, Husband?" asked Karema
opening her fine eyes.

"I do not quite know, Wife. Perhaps they may refuse to accept me, at
which I shall not weep. Or perhaps they may refuse to accept you, at
which of course I should weep very much, for you see you are so very
white and, heretofore, all the queens of the Ethiopians have been
black."

"And if they refuse to accept me because I am white, or rather brown,
instead of black like oiled marble, what then, O Husband?"

"Then--oh! then I cannot say, O Wife. Perhaps they will send you back
to your own country. Or perhaps they will separate us and place you in
a temple where you will live alone in all honour. I remember that once
they did that to a white woman, making a goddess of her until she died
of weariness. Or perhaps--well, I do not know."

Then Karema grew angry.

"Now I wish I had remained a Cup," she said, "and the servant of the
holy Tanofir who at least taught me many secret things, instead of
coming to dwell among black barbarians in the company of a dwarf who,
even if he be a king, it seems has no power to protect the wife whom he
has chosen."

"Why will women always grow wroth before there is need?" asked Bes
humbly. "Surely it would be time to rate me when any of these things had
happened."

"If any of them do happen, Husband, I shall say much worse things than
that," she replied, but the talk went no further, for at this moment our
boat grounded and singing a wild song, many of those who waited rushed
into the water to drag it to the bank.

Then Bes stood up on the prow, waving his bow and there arose a mighty
shout of, "_Karoon! Karoon!_ It is he, it is he returned after many
years!"

Twice they shouted thus and then, every one of them, threw themselves
face downwards in the sand.

"Yes, my people," cried Bes, "it is I, Karoon, who having bee