him
with it, as it was customary for a bride to crown her lover before the
wedding.

Rameses observed his daughter's action with some surprise, and the
guests responded to it with loud cheering.

The king looked gravely at Bent-Anat and the young priest; the eyes of
all the company were eagerly fixed on the princess and the poet. The
king seemed to have forgotten the presence of strangers, and to be
wholly absorbed in thought, but by degrees a change came over his face,
it cleared, as a landscape is cleared from the morning mists under the
influence of the spring sunshine. When he looked up again his glance
was bright and satisfied, and Bent-Anat knew what it promised when it
lingered lovingly first on her, and then on her friend, whose head was
still graced by the wreath that had crowned hers.

At last Rameses turned from the lovers, and said to the guests:

"It is past midnight, and I will now leave you. To-morrow evening I bid
you all--and you especially, Pentaur--to be my guests in this banqueting
hall. Once more fill your cups, and let us empty them--to a long time of
peace after the victory which, by the help of the Gods, we have won.
And at the same time let us express our thanks to my friend Ani, who has
entertained us so magnificently, and who has so faithfully and zealously
administered the affairs of the kingdom during my absence."

The company pledged the king, who warmly shook hands with the Regent,
and then, escorted by his wandbearers and lords in waiting, quitted the
hall, after he had signed to Mena, Ameni, and the ladies to follow him.

Nefert greeted her husband, but she immediately parted from the royal
party, as she had yielded to the urgent entreaty of Katuti that she
should for this night go to her mother, to whom she had so much to tell,
instead of remaining with the princess. Her mother's chariot soon took
her to her tent.

Rameses dismissed his attendants in the ante-room of his apartments;
when they were alone he turned to Bent-Anat and said affectionately.

"What was in your mind when you laid your wreath on the poet's brow?"

"What is in every maiden's mind when she does the like," replied
Bent-Anat with trustful frankness.

"And your father?" asked the king.

"My father knows that I will obey him even if he demands of me the
hardest thing--the sacrifice of all my--happiness; but I believe that
he--that you love me fondly, and I do not forget the hour in which you
said to me tha