ni, "as if you had performed some heroic
feat; and yet the men you killed were only unarmed and pious citizens,
who were roused to indignation by a gross and shameless outrage. I
cannot conceive whence the warrior-spirit should have fallen on a
gardener's son--and a minister of the Gods."

"It is true," answered Pentaur, "when the crowd rushed upon me, and I
drove them back, putting out all my strength, I felt something of the
warlike rage of the soldier, who repulses the pressing foe from the
standard committed to his charge. It was sinful in a priest, no doubt,
and I will repent of it--but I felt it."

"You felt it--and you will repent of it, well and good," replied Ameni.
"But you have not given a true account of all that happened. Why have
you concealed that Bent-Anat--Rameses' daughter--was mixed up in the
fray, and that she saved you by announcing her name to the people, and
commanding them to leave you alone? When you gave her the lie before all
the people, was it because you did not believe that it was Bent-Anat?
Now, you who stand so firmly on so high a platform--now you
standard-bearer of the truth answer me."

Pentaur had turned pale at his master's words, and said, as he looked at
the Regent:

"We are not alone."

"Truth is one!" said Ameni coolly. "What you can reveal to me, can also
be heard by this noble lord, the Regent of the king himself. Did you
recognize Bent-Anat, or not?"

"The lady who rescued me was like her, and yet unlike," answered the
poet, whose blood was roused by the subtle irony of his Superior's
words. "And if I had been as sure that she was the princess, as I am
that you are the man who once held me in honor, and who are now trying
to humiliate me, I would all the more have acted as I did to spare
a lady who is more like a goddess than a woman, and who, to save an
unworthy wretch like me, stooped from a throne to the dust."

"Still the poet--the preacher!" said Ameni. Then he added severely. "I
beg for a short and clear answer. We know for certain that the princess
took part in the festival in the disguise of a woman of low rank, for
she again declared herself to Paaker; and we know that it was she who
saved you. But did you know that she meant to come across the Nile?"

"How should I?" asked Pentaur.

"Well, did you believe that it was Bent-Anat whom you saw before you
when she ventured on to the scene of conflict?"

"I did believe it," replied Pentaur; he shuddered and cas