abaka, one waits to welcome you."

I rested myself upon her shoulder, for I could not walk alone.

"What happened to the army of the Karoon?" I asked as we went slowly.

"That happened, Lord, which the holy Tanofir foretold. The Easterns
attacked across the swamp, thinking to bear us down by numbers. But the
paths were too narrow and their columns were bogged in the mud.
Still they struggled on against the arrows to its edge and there the
Ethiopians fell on them and being lighter-footed and without armour, had
the mastery of them, who were encumbered by their very multitude. Oh! I
saw it all from the temple top. Bes did well and I am proud of him, as I
am proud of you."

"It is of the Ethiopians that you should be proud, Karema, since with
one to five they have won a great battle."

We came to the end of the second court where was a sanctuary.

"Enter," said Karema and fell back.

I did so and though the cedar door was left a little ajar, at first
could see nothing because of the gloom of the place. By degrees my eyes
grew accustomed to the darkness and I perceived an alabaster statue
of the goddess Isis of the size of life, who held in her arms an ivory
child, also lifesize. Then I heard a sigh and, looking down, saw a
woman clad in white kneeling at the feet of the statue, lost in prayer.
Suddenly she rose and turned and the ray of light from the door ajar
fell upon her. It was Amada draped only in the transparent robe of a
priestess, and oh! she was beautiful beyond imagining, so beautiful that
my heart stood still.

She saw me in my battered mail and the blood flowed up to her breast
and brow and in her eyes there came a light such as I had never known
in them before, the light that is lit only by the torch of woman's love.
Yes, no longer were hers the eyes of a priestess; they were the eyes of
a woman who burns with mortal passion.

"Amada," I whispered, "Amada found at last."

"Shabaka," she whispered back, "returned at last, to me, your home," and
she stretched out her arms toward me.

But before I could take her into mine, she uttered a little cry and
shrank away.

"Oh! not here," she said, "not here in the presence of this Holy One who
watches all that passes in heaven and earth."

"Then perchance, Amada, she has watched the freeing of Egypt on yonder
field to-day, and knows for whose sake it was done."

"Hearken, Shabaka. I am your guerdon. Moreover as a woman I am yours.
There is naught I des