the spectators threw to him gold rings
or flowers from their garlands.

The feast lasted some hours, interspersedwith shouts of guests wishing
happiness to the prince, and to the nomarch and his family.

Ramses, who was in a reclining position on a couch covered with a
lion's skin which had golden claws, was served by four ladies. One
fanned him; another changed the garland on his head; the other two
offered food to him. Toward the end of the feast the one with whom the
prince talked with most willingness brought a goblet of wine. Ramses
drank half, and gave the remainder to the woman; when she had drunk
that half, he kissed her lips.

Slaves quenched the torches then quickly, the butterfly ceased to move
its wings, there was night in the court, and silence interrupted by the
nervous laughter of women.

All on a sudden the quick tramping of people was heard and a terrible
shouting.

"Let me in!" cried a hoarse voice. "Where is the heir? Where is the
viceroy?"

There was a dreadful disturbance in the hall. Women were terrified; men
called out,

"What is it? An attack on the heir! Hei, guards!"

The sound of broken dishes was heard, and the rattle of chairs.

"Where is the heir?" bellowed the stranger.

"Guards! Defend the life of the heir!" shouted men in the courtyard.

"Light the torches!" called the youthful voice of the heir. "Who is
looking for me? Here I am!"

Torches were brought. In the hall were piles of overturned and broken
furniture behind which guests were in hiding. On the platform the
prince tore away from the women, who screamed while they held to his
legs and arms firmly. Near the prince was Tutmosis, his wig torn, a
bronze pitcher in his hand with which he was ready to open the head of
any one who dared to go nearer the viceroy. At the door of the hall
appeared warriors with swords drawn for action.

"What is this? Who is here?" cried the terrified nomarch.

At last they beheld the author of the disturbance, a gigantic man,
naked, and mud-covered. He had bloody stripes on his shoulders; he was
kneeling on the steps of the platform and stretching his hands toward
Ramses.

"This is the murderer," shouted the nomarch. "Seize him!"

Tutmosis raised his pitcher; soldiers rushed up from the door. The
wounded man fell with his face to the steps, crying,

"Have mercy, sun of Egypt!"

The soldiers were ready to seize him when Ramses pulled himself free of
the women and approached the unf