"I bless the goddess who led me to her temple to-night, who whispered to me that I should watch the sick Pharaoh, as he noiselessly crept up through the sacred building and disturbed his mother in her devotions. I praise the goddess, Neit-akrit, who with one terrible blow doth allow me to sweep from thy path all those who dared to stand between thee and the throne of Kamt."
I don't know if Neit-akrit made any reply; certainly, if she did, it must have been in a whisper, for I did not hear. Then the high priest repeated, with accents that were soft and pleading:
"I did it all for thee, Neit-akrit, that thou mightest wear the double crown of Kamt, and that thine enemy might be driven forth from the land, where, in his arrogance, he dared to lay hands upon thy throne."
"My enemy?"
Her voice came as a murmur, sweet and low: the words spoken half in astonishment, half in a strange and tender appeal.
"Ay!" said Ur-tasen, vehemently. "Thy throne is free now, Neit-akrit: I have cleared the way for thee. Maat-kha struck her dying son with wrathful arm; I did naught to save him, for by that blow thy kinswoman delivered herself and her stranger lover into my hands. At dawn, anon, when Isis has sunk to rest, he who has dared to call himself the son of Ra will go forth to his doom. Think of it, Neit-akrit! He, alone with the dead body of the Pharaoh! the opening of the gates! the call of the priests of Isis! the rushing of the mob! the shouts of joy transformed into cries of execration at the hideousness of the crime! Then think of it, Neit-akrit! think of the judgment day, when thine enemy, he who had thought to place himself upon thy throne, is led forth bound hand and foot with ropes, humble—an
