the garden. The cool air sobered him;
he found the road to the villa and entered almost calmly.

Though the hour was late, they were awake there. Sarah with her own
hands was washing swaddling-clothes for her son, and the servants were
passing their time in eating, drinking, and music. When Ramses, pale
from emotion, stood on the threshold, Sarah cried out, but soon calmed
herself.

"Be greeted, lord," said she, wiping her wet hands and bending to his
feet.

"Sarah, what is the name of thy son?" inquired he.

She seized her head in terror.

"What is thy son's name?" repeated he.

"But Thou knowest, lord, that it is Seti," answered she, with a voice
almost inaudible.

"Look me in the eyes."

"O Jehovah!" whispered Sarah.

"Thou seest that Thou art lying. And now I will tell thee, my son, the
son of the heir to the throne of Egypt, is called Isaac and he is a Jew
a low Jew."

"O God, O God of mercy!" cried Sarah, throwing herself at his feet.

Ramses did not raise his head for an instant, but his face was gray.

"I was forewarned," said he, "not to take a Jewess to my house. I was
disgusted when I saw thy country place filled with Jews; but I kept my
disgust in subjection, for I trusted thee. But them, with thy Jews,
hast stolen my son from me, Thou child thief!"

"The priests commanded that he should become a Jew," whispered Sarah,
sobbing at the feet of Ramses.

"The priests! What priests?"

"The most worthy Herhor, the most worthy Mefres. They said that it must
be so, that thy son would become the first king of the Jews."

"The priests? Mefres?" repeated the prince. "King of the Jews? But I
have told thee that thy son would become the chief of my archers, my
secretary. I told thee this, and thou, wretched woman, didst think that
the title of king of the Jews was equal to that of my secretary and
archer. Mefres Herhor! Thanks to the gods that at last I understand
those dignitaries and know what fate they are preparing for my
descendants."

He thought awhile, gnawing his lips. Suddenly he called with a powerful
voice,

"Hei, servants, warriors!"

The room was filled in the twinkle of an eye. Sarah's serving-women
came in, the scribe and manager of the house, then the slaves; finally,
a few warriors with an officer.

"Death!" cried Sarah, with a piercing voice.

She rushed to the cradle, seized her son, and, standing in the corner
of the room, called out,

"Kill me; but I will not yield my