"Perchance. But exertion offends mine eyes in such delicious hours as these, and I will forego the homage for the sake of mine own sinews.

Out with thy tidings."

"Thou dost remember thy friend and mine, that gentle genius, Kenkenes."

"I am not like to forget him so long as a bird sings or the Nile ripples make music. Osiris pillow him most softly."

"He is not dead, my Prince."

"Nay!" Rameses cried, sitting up. "The knave should be bastinadoed for the tears he wrung from us!"

"Thou wouldst deny my pet.i.tion. I am come to implore thee to intercede for him."

Rameses bade him proceed.

"Thou art acquainted with the nature of Kenkenes, O Prince. He is a visionary--an idealist, and so firmly rooted are his beliefs that they are to his life as natural as the color of his eyes. He is a beauty-worshiper. Athor possesses him utterly, and her loveliness blinds him to all other things, particularly to his own welfare and safety.

"In the beginning he fell in love, and a soul like his in love is most unreasoning, immoderate and terribly faithful. The maiden is beautiful--I saw her--most divinely beautiful. She is wise, for I saw that also. She is good, for I felt it, unreasoning, and when a man hath a woman intuition, a G.o.d hath spoken the truth to his heart. But she is a slave--an Israelite."

"An Israelite!"

Hotep bowed his head.

"By the G.o.ds of my fathers, I ought not to marvel! Nay, now, is that not like the boy? An Israelite! And half the n.o.ble maids of Memphis mad for him!"

"He is not for thee and me to judge, O Rameses," Hotep interrupted.

"The G.o.ds blew another breath in him than animates our souls. For thee and me such conduct would be the fancies of madmen; for Kenkenes it is but living up to the alien spirit with which the G.o.ds endowed him. It might be torture for him to wed according to our lights."

"Perchance thou art right. Go on."

"It seems that Har-hat looked upon the girl, and taken by her beauty, asked her at the Pharaoh's hands for his harem."

"Ah, the--! Why does he not marry honorably?"

"It is not for me to divine," Hotep went on calmly. "The fan-bearer sent his men to take her, but she fled from them to Kenkenes, and he protected her--hid her away--where, none but Kenkenes and the maiden know. Har-hat is most desirous of owning her, but Kenkenes keeps his counsel. Therefore, Har-hat overtook him in Tape, where he went to get a signet belonging to his father, and imprisoned him till what time he should divulge the hiding-place of the Israelite."

"Never was there a true villain till Har-hat was born! What poor feeble shadows have trodden the world for knaves before the fan-bearer came. Go on. Hath he put him to torture yet?"

"Aye, from the beginning, though not by the bastinado. He rends him with suspense and all the doubts and fears for his love that can haunt him in his cell. But I have more to tell. There was a signet, an all-potent signet, which belonged to the n.o.ble Mentu--"

"Aye, I remember," Rameses broke in. "My grandsire gave it to the murket in recognition of his great work, Ipsambul. It commands royal favor in the name of Osiris. That should help the dreamer out of his difficulty."

"Aye, it should, my Prince, but it did not. Kenkenes sent it to the Pharaoh, with a pet.i.tion for his own freedom, but the cares of state were so pressing that the Son of Ptah gave the letter, unopened, to Har-hat for attention."

Rameses laughed harshly.

"Kenkenes would better content himself. The Hathors are against him,"

he cried. "Was there ever such consummate misfortune? What more?"

"Is it not enough, O Rameses?" Hotep answered sternly. "He hath suffered sufficiently. Now is it time for them, who profess to love him, to bestir themselves in his behalf. Thou knowest how near the fan-bearer is to the Pharaoh. Persuasion can not reach the king that worketh against Har-hat. Thou alone art as potent with the Son of Ptah. Wilt thou not prove thy love for Kenkenes and aid him?"

Rameses did not answer immediately. Thoughtfully he leaned his elbow on his knee and stroked his forehead with his hand. His black brows knitted finally.

"My hands are tied, Hotep," he began bluntly. "I permit the sway of this knave over my father because I am constrained. Till he begins to achieve confusion or bring about bad government I must let him alone.

There is no love between us. We have no quarrel, but I despise him for that very spirit in him which makes him do such things as thou hast even told me. If his offense had been against Egypt or the king or myself, I could balk him. But this is a matter of personal interest to him, which would be open and flagrant interference--"

Hotep broke in earnestly.

"Surely so small a matter of courtesy--if such it may be called--should not stand between thee and this most pressing need."

"Aye, thou hast said--if it were only a small matter of courtesy. But the breach of that same small courtesy entails great disaster for me.

Thou knowest, O my Hotep, that I am betrothed to the daughter of Har-hat."

With great effort Hotep kept a placid face.

"The Lady Masanath would abet him who would aid Kenkenes," he said.

"Even so. But hear me, I pray thee, Hotep. This most rapacious miscreant would hold his favor with the king. He knew I loved Masanath, and he held her out of my reach till I should consent to countenance his advisership to my father. I consented--and should I lapse, I lose Masanath."

Hotep was on his feet by this time, his face turned away. Rameses could not guess what a tempest raged in his heart.

"But be thou a.s.sured," the prince continued grimly, "that only so long as Masanath is not yet mine, shall I endure him. After that he shall fall as never knave fell or so deserved to fall before. Aye,--but stay, Hotep. I have not done. I have some small grain of hope for this unfortunate friend of ours. The marriage hath been delayed. I shall press my suit, and wed Masanath sooner, if she will, and Kenkenes need not decay in prison--"

Hotep did not stay longer. He bowed and departed without a word.

"Out upon the man, I offered all I could," Rameses muttered, but immediately he arose and hurried to the well of the stairway.

"Hotep!" he called. The scribe, half-way down, turned and looked up.

"Return to me in an hour. Give me time to ponder and I may more profitably help thee," the prince commanded. Hotep bowed and went on.

The hour was barely long enough for the smarting soul of the scribe to soothe itself. Deep, indeed, his love for Kenkenes that he returned at all. Masanath's name, spoken so familiarly, so boastingly, by the prince was fresh outrage to his already affronted heart. It mattered not that Rameses did not know. His talk of marriage with Masanath was exultation, nevertheless. Once again, Hotep flung himself on his couch and wrestled with his spirit.

At the end of the hour, he went once again to Rameses. He was calm and composed, but he made no apology for his abrupt departure, when last he was there. Perhaps, however, he gained in the respect of Rameses by that lapse. The blunt prince was more patient with the sincere than with the diplomatic.

"Thou hast said," the prince began immediately, "that Har-hat hath imprisoned Kenkenes till what time he shall divulge the hiding-place of the Israelite?"

Hotep bowed.

"The fan-bearer charges him with slave-stealing?"

"And sacrilege," the scribe added. The prince opened his eyes. "Aye, Kenkenes carried his beauty-love into blasphemy. He executed a statue of Athor in defiance of the sculptor's ritual. For this also, Har-hat holds a heavy hand over him."

"A murrain on the lawless dreamer!" Rameses muttered. "Is there anything more?"

Hotep shook his head.

"He deserves his ill-luck. Mark me, now. He will not go mad with a year's imprisonment, and he will profit by it. Furthermore, he can not be persuaded into betraying the Israelite, if he knows how long and how much he will have to endure. Once sentenced, Har-hat can add nothing more thereto. Has he confessed?"

"To me, he did. I know not what he said to the Pharaoh. But the G.o.ddess Ma broodeth on the lips of Kenkenes."