“Boast not,” she responded; “it is not a virtue in you.  You would be blithe in Amenti, for one can not get mournful music out of a timbrel.”

The soldier’s eyes opened, and he caught at her, but she eluded him and growled prettily under her breath.

“Come, Bast,” he cried, making after her.  “Kit, kit, kit!”

She sprang away with a little shriek and Kenkenes, throwing out his arm, caught her and drew her close.

“Menes is malevolent—­” he began.

“Aye, malevolent as Mesu!” she panted.

“What!” the soldier cried.  “Has the Hebrew sorcerer already become a bugbear to the children?”

“If he become not a bugbear to all Egypt, we may thank the gods,” Siptah put in.

Rameses laughed scornfully, but Ta-user and Seti spoke simultaneously: 

“Siptah speaks truly.”

“Yea, Menes,” the heir scoffed; “he hath already become a bugbear to the infants.  Hear them confess it?”

Siptah buried his clenched hand in a cushion on the floor near him.

“O thou paternal Prince,” he said, “repeat us a prayer of exorcism as a father should, and rid us of our fears.”

“And pursuant of the custom bewailed an hour agone, we shall return thanks to the Pharaoh, for the things thou dost achieve, O our Rameses,” Menes added.

“If there are any prayers said,” the prince replied, “the Hebrews will say them.  Mine exorcism will be harsher than formulas.”

The rest of the company ceased their undertone and listened.

“Wilt thou tell us again what thou hast said, O Prince?” Kenkenes asked.

“Mine exorcism of the Hebrew sorcerer, Mesu, will be harsher than formulas.  I shall not beseech the Israelites and it will avail them naught to beseech me.”

“Thou art ominous, Light of Egypt,” Kenkenes commented quietly.  “Wilt thou open thy heart further and give us thy meaning?”

“Hast lived out of the world, O Son of Mentu?  The exorcism will begin ere long.  In this I give thee the history of Israel for the next few years and close it.  I shall not fall heir to the Hebrews when I come to wear the crown of Egypt.”

“Are they to be sent forth?” Kenkenes asked in a low tone.

Rameses laughed shortly.

“Thou art not versed in the innuendoes of court-talk, my Kenkenes.  Nay, they die in Egypt and fertilize the soil.”

“It will raise a Set-given uproar, Rameses,” Menes broke in with meek conviction; “and as thou hast said—­to the king, the credit—­to his advisers, the blame.”

“Nay; the process is longer and more natural,” the prince replied carelessly.  “It is but the same method of the mines.  Who can call death by hard labor, murder?”

The full brutality of the prince’s meaning struck home.  Kenkenes gripped the arm of Ta-meri’s chair with such power that the sinews stood up rigid and white above the back of the brown hand.  Luckily, all of the guests were contemplating Rameses with more or less horror.  They did not see the color recede from the young artist’s face or his eyes ignite dangerously.