"So thou wilt offend no further," she said without raising her eyes.

"I promise. And now, since the G.o.ddess hath refused mine offering, I may not take it back. What shall I do with this?" he asked, holding up the collar of gold.

"Put it about thy statue's neck," she said softly.

Kenkenes gasped and retreated a step. Instantly she was imploring his pardon.

"It was a forward spirit in me that made me say it. I pray thee, forgive me."

"Thou hast given no offense, but how dost thou know of this--tell me that."

"I came upon it by accident three days ago. Several of the children had gone fowling for the taskmaster's meal, and were so long absent that I was sent to look for them. The path down the valley is old, and I have followed it with the idea of labor ever in my mind. And this was a moment of freedom, so I thought to spend it where I had not been a slave, I went across the hills, and, being unfamiliar with them, lost my way. When I climbed upon one of the great rocks to overlook the labyrinth, lo! at my feet was the statue. I knew myself the moment I looked, and it was not hard to guess whose work it was."

She paused and looked at him with appeal on her face.

"Thou hast told no one?"

"Nay," was the quick and earnest answer.

"Thou hast caught me in a falsehood," he said. The statement was almost brutal in its directness.

But the question that came back swiftly was not less pointed.

"There was no frieze of bondmaidens--naught of anything thou hast told me?"

"Nay, not anything. I am carving a statue against the canons of the sculptor's ritual for the sake of my love of beauty. Until thou didst come upon it, I alone possessed the secret. Thou knowest the punishment which will overtake me?"

"Aye, I know right well. Yet fear not. The statue is right cunningly concealed and none will ever find it, for the children were unsuccessful and the meals for the overseer will be brought him from the city hereafter. And I will not betray thee--I give thee my word."

Her tone was soft and earnest; her a.s.surances were spoken so confidently, her interest was so genuine, that a queer and unaccountable satisfaction possessed the young artist at once.

At this moment the runaway water-bearers came in sight and in obedience to very evident dismissal in the Israelite's eyes, Kenkenes bade her farewell and left her.

But he had not gone two paces before she overtook him.

"Approach thy work from various directions," she cautioned, "else thou wilt wear a path which may spy on thee one day."

The moment the words pa.s.sed her lips, Kenkenes, who still held the collar, put it about her neck, pa.s.sing his hands under the thick plaits, and snapped the clasp accurately.

The act was done instantly, and with but a single movement. He was gone, laughing on his way, before she had realized what he had done.

There was revel in the young man's veins that evening, but the great house of his father was silent and lonely. If he would find a companion he must leave its heavy walls. His resolution was not long in making nor his instinct slow in directing him. An hour after the evening meal, when he entered the chariot that waited, he had laid aside the simple tunic, and in festal attire was, every inch of his many inches, the son of the king's favorite artist. His charioteer drove in the direction of the nomarch's house.

The portress conducted him into the faintly lighted chamber of guests and went forth silently. Kenkenes interpreted her behavior at once.

"There is another guest," he thought with a smile, "and I can name him as promptly as any chanting sorcerer might." When the serving woman returned she bade him follow her and led the way to the house-top.

There, under the subdued light of a single lamp, was the Lady Ta-meri; at her feet, Nechutes.

"I should wear the symbol-broidered robe of a soothsayer," the sculptor told himself.

"You made a longer sojourn of your visit to Tape than you had intended," the lady said, after the greetings.

"Nay, I have been in Memphis twenty days at least."

"So?" queried Nechutes. "Where dost thou keep thyself?"

"In the garb of labor among the ink-pots and papyri of the sculptor cla.s.s," the lady answered. "I warrant there are pigment marks on his fingers even now."

Kenkenes extended his long right hand to her for inspection. She received it across her pink palm and scrutinized it laughingly.

"Nay, I take it back. Here is naught but henna and a suspicion of attar. He has been idle these days."

"Hast thou forgotten the efficacy of the lemon in the removal of stains?" the sculptor asked with a smile.

The lady frowned.

"Give us thy news from Tape, then," she demanded, putting his hand away.

"The court is coming to Memphis sooner. That is all. O, aye, I had well-nigh forgot. There is also talk of a marriage between Rameses and Ta-user."

"Fie!" the lady scoffed. "Nechutes hath more to tell than that, and he hath stayed in Memphis."

"Thou wilt come to realize some day, Ta-meri, that I am fitted to the yoke of labor, when I fail thee in all the nicer walks thou wouldst have me tread. Come, out with thy gossip, Nechutes."

"I had a letter from Hotep to-day--a budget of news, included with official matters with which the king would acquaint me. Ta-user, with Amon-meses and Siptah, hath joined the court at Tape--"

"And Siptah, she brought with her--" the sculptor interrupted softly.

Nechutes cast an expressive look at Kenkenes and went on.

"And the courting hath begun."

Silence fell, and the lady looked at the two young men with wonder in her eyes.

"Nay, but that is interesting," Kenkenes admitted, recovering himself.

"Tell me more."

"The offices of cup-bearer and murket are to be bestowed in Memphis,"

Nechutes continued.

"And the one falls to Nechutes," the lady declared triumphantly.

"Of a truth thou hast a downy lot before thee, Nechutes," the young sculptor said heartily. "And never one so deserving of it. I give thee joy."

"And the other goes to the n.o.ble Mentu," Nechutes added in a meek voice.

"Sphinx!" Ta-meri cried, tapping him on the head. "You did not tell me that."