“I am committed to the cause of Israel—­that thou knowest, Rachel,” Kenkenes made answer.  After another silence he took up the thread of his talk.

“If thy danger from this man were set aside I should not return thee to the camp, even if there were no doom spoken upon Israel.  I would have thee free; I would have thee in luxury, sheltered in my father’s house—­I would—­”

“Thou dost paint a picture that mocks me now, O Kenkenes,” she broke in on his growing fervor.  “Doubly am I enslaved, and the safety of Masaarah and Memphis is no more for me.”

“Thou hast said,” he answered in a subdued voice.  “It was given me last night to win favor with the Pharaoh for thy sake, but the need of that favor fell before it was won.  But I despair not.  What is thy pleasure, Rachel?  Shall I take thee to Atsu, or wilt thou stay with me?”

“This nobleman will know of a surety that Atsu is my friend, but he must guess the other Egyptian who hath helped me.  If I go to Atsu I take certain danger to him; if I stay with thee the peril must wander ere it overtakes us.  But I would not burden either.  Is there no other way?”

He shook his head.  “It lies between me and Atsu to care for you, and the peril for you and for us is equal.  My name is as good as published, for I am gifted with a length of limb beyond my fellows.  I was found before the statue and they, describing me to the priests, will prove to the priests, who know my calling, that the son of Mentu has committed sacrilege.  And the priesthood would not wait till dawn to take me.”

“I will stay with thee, Kenkenes,” she said simply.

He became conscious of the collar on his breast and drew it forth.

“With this,” he began, assuming a lightness, “I fear I gave thee offense one day and thou hast held it against me.  Now let me heal that wound and sweeten thy regard for me with this same offending trinket.  Wilt thou take it as a peace-offering from my hands and wear it always?” She bent toward him and, with worshiping hands, he put aside the loosened braids and clasped the necklace about her throat.

“There are ten rings,” he continued.  “Let them be named thus,” telling them off with his fingers, “This first of all—­Hope—­it shall be thy stay; this—­Faith—­it shall comfort thee; this—­Good Works—­it shall publish thee; this—­Sacrifice—­it shall win thee many victories; this—­Chastity—­it shall be thy name; the next—­Wisdom—­it shall guide thee; after it—­Steadfastness—­it shall keep thee in all these things; Truth—­it shall brood upon thy lips; Beauty—­it shall not perish; this, the last, is Love, of which there is naught to be said.  It speaketh for itself.”

Their eyes met at his last words and for a moment dwelt.  Then Rachel looked away.

“Are the fastenings secure?” she asked.

“Firm as the virtues in a good woman’s soul.”

“They will hold.  I would not lose one of them.”