Rameses fell back into his chair, his lips twitching once or twice, a manifestation of his genuine amusement.

“As it follows, the Israelite is angry.  So the witch-pot hath been put on, and in council with a toad and a cat and an owl, he thinketh up some especial sending to curse us with,” the captain concluded.

“A proper ending,” Rameses declared after a little.  “Let men kill each other openly, if they will, but the methods of the ambushed assassin should recoil upon himself.”

At this point it was seen that the Pharaoh and his queen were preparing to leave the hall.  All the company arose, and after the royal pair had passed out the guests began to depart.  Rameses left his party and, joining Har-hat, led the fan-bearer away from the company.

“It seems that thou, with others, heardest my words with Masanath,” the prince began at once.  “It is well, for it saves me further speech now.  I want thy daughter as my queen.”

Har-hat seemed to ponder a little before he answered.  “Masanath does not love thee,” he said at last.

“Nay, but she shall.”

“That granted, there are further reasons why ye should not wed,” the fan-bearer resumed after another pause.  “Masanath would come between Egypt and Egypt’s welfare.  Thou knowest what thy marriage with the Princess Ta-user is expected to accomplish.  At this hour the nation is in need of unity that she may safely do battle with her alien foes.  If thou slightest Ta-user thou wilt add to the disaffection of Amon-meses and his party.  Furthermore, thine august sire would not be pleased with thee nor with Masanath, nor with me.  It is not my place to show thee thy duty, Rameses, but of a surety it is my place to refuse to join thee in thy neglecting of it.”

Rameses contemplated the fan-bearer narrowly for a moment.  “Come, thou hast a game,” he said finally.  “Out with it!  Name thy stake.”

“O, thou art most discourteous, my Prince,” the fan-bearer remonstrated, turning away.  But Rameses planted himself in his path.

“Stay!” he said grimly.  “Dost thou believe me so blind as to think thee sincere?  Thou canst use thy smooth pretenses upon the Pharaoh, but I understand thee, Har-hat.  Declare thyself and vex me no further with thy subtleties.”  Har-hat measured the prince’s patience before he answered.

“When thou canst use me courteously, Rameses,” he said with dignity, “I shall talk with thee again.  Meanwhile do not build on wedding with Masanath.  I shall mate her with him who hath respect for her father.”

For a moment Rameses stood in doubt.  Could it be that this soulless man had scruples against giving him Masanath?  But Har-hat, allowed a chance to leave the prince if he would, had not moved.  Rameses understood the act.  The fan-bearer was awaiting a propitious opportunity to name his price gracefully.  The momentary warmth of respect died in the prince’s heart.