o let him
approach thee as little as possible."

He kissed her, slipped out of the villa, and vanished in the dark
garden.

Kama stretched her clinched fist after him.

"Worthless buffoon!" whispered she; "Thou who art hardly fit to be a
singing slave in my mansion."

CHAPTER XXXV

When Ramses on the following morning visited his son, he found Sarah
weeping. He asked what the cause was. She answered at first that
nothing troubled her; then she said that she was sad. At last she fell
at his feet and cried bitterly.

"My lord," whispered she, "I know that Thou hast ceased to love me, but
at least avoid danger."

"Who said that I have ceased to love thee?" asked Ramses, astonished.

"Thou hast in thy house three new women, ladies of high family."

"Ah, so that is the trouble?"

"Besides, Thou art exposing thyself for a fourth, a wicked Phoenician."

The prince was confused. Whence could Sarah know of Kama, and know that
she was wicked?

"As dust squeezes into caskets, so scandals work into the quietest
houses," said Ramses. "Who has spoken to thee of a Phoenician?"

"Do I know who? My heart and an evil omen."

"Then are there omens?"

"Terrible. One old priestess learned, I suppose from a crystal ball,
that we shall all perish through Phoenicians, especially I and my son,"
burst out Sarah.

"And Thou who believest in One, in Jehovah, fearest the fictions of
some stupid old woman who is perhaps intriguing? Where is thy great
Deity?"

"My God is only mine, but those others are thine; so I must revere
them."

"Then that old woman spoke to thee of Phoenicians?" asked Ramses.

"She told me long ago, while in Memphis, that I should guard against a
Phoenician woman," answered Sarah. "Here all are speaking of a
Phoenician priestess. I cannot tell; maybe it is only something
wandering in my troubled head."

"People say even that were it not for her spell Thou wouldst not have
sprung into the arena. Oh, if the bull had killed thee! Even today,
when I think of the evil which might have happened, the heart grows
cold in my bosom."

"Laugh, Sarah," interrupted Ramses, joyously. "She whom I take to
myself stands so high that no fear should reach her, still less, stupid
scandal."

"But misfortune? Is there a mountain top so high that the missile of
misfortune may not reach it?"

"Thy sickness has wearied thee, and fever has disturbed thy mind; that
is why Thou art troubled without reason. Be quiet, an