tion, oh, beloved of the gods?" asked the priest, with a contemptuous smile.
"By ruthlessly crushing beneath my heel him who should dare to disobey my orders," replied Hugh, slowly, as he rose from the litter and stood confronting the high priest in all the glory of his youth and his powerful personality.
Ur-tasen had turned positively livid. He had been accustomed throughout his life to dictate his will to Queen Maat-kha and to the country. His commands had probably never been gainsaid, but at this moment he too felt, I think, that the next few minutes would decide as to who—he or the stranger—was to be master in the land.
"Beware," he said solemnly, his voice quaking with rage while he raised aloft the heavy wand of gold, emblem of his sacerdotal power, "lest thou thyself be crushed beneath the power against which thou hast dared to raise thy sacrilegious voice."
But without a word Hugh turned and went up to the curtain which shut out the view of the city from the council chamber, and pushing it aside, he pointed to where, lining the temple steps, thousands of men and women waited—as they did every morning—to catch sight of him who, until a few days ago, had sat at the very foot of the throne of Osiris. Some of the younger men and women were lying on the ground so that his foot might tread upon their bodies. Hugh waited a moment quietly while Ur-tasen, who had followed him, was also looking out upon the populace. Suddenly in the crowd there was a shriek; some one had caught sight of Hugh, and the next moment all had knelt, turning their dark faces with awe and reverence towards him, while the women began to chant a hymn of praise as they would to a god.
Hugh waited quietly while the flood of enthusiasm
