He was the nephew of the king’s cup-bearer, who had died without issue at Thebes during the past month.  His elder brother had succeeded his father to a high office in the priesthood, but he, Nechutes, was a candidate for the honors of his dead uncle.

Kenkenes gave the man a smiling nod and bent over the lady’s fingers.

“Fie!” was her greeting.  “Abroad like the rabble, and carrying a burden.”  She filliped the wallet with a pink-stained finger-nail.

“Sit here,” she commanded, patting the cushioned edge of the litter.

The sculptor declined the invitation with a smile.

“I go to try some stone,” he explained.

“Truly, I believe thou lovest labor,” the lady asserted accusingly.  “Ah, but punishment overtakes thee at last.  Behold, thou mightst have gone with me to the marshes to-day, but I knew thou wouldst be as deep in labor as a slave.  And so I took Nechutes.”

Kenkenes shot an amused glance at her companion.

“I would wager my mummy, Nechutes, that this is the first intimation thou hast had that thou wert second choice,” he said.

“Aye, thou hast said,” Nechutes admitted, his eyes showing a sudden light.  He had a voice of profound depth and resonance, that rumbled like the purring of the king’s lions.  “And not a moment since she swore that it was I who made her sun to move, and that Tuat itself were sweet so I were there.”

“O Ma[6],” the lady cried, threatening him with her fan.  “Thou Defender of Truth, smite him!”

Kenkenes laughed with delight.

“Nay, nay, Nechutes!” he cried.  “Thou dost betray thyself.  Never would Ta-meri have said anything so bald.  Now, when she is moved to give me a honeyed fact, she laps it with delicate intimation, layer on layer like a lotus-bud.  And only under the warm interpretation of my heart will it unfold and show the gold within.”

Nechutes stifled a derisive groan, but the lady’s color swept up over her face and made it like the dawn.

“Nay, now,” she protested, “wherein art thou better than Nechutes, save in the manner of telling thy calumny?  But, Kenkenes,” she broke off, “thou art wasted in thy narrow realm.  They need thy gallant tongue at court.”

The young sculptor made soft eyes at her.

“If I were a courtier,” he objected, “I must scatter my small eloquence among many beauties that I would liefer save for one.”

She appropriated the compliment at once.

“Thou dost not hunger after even that opportunity,” she pouted.  “How long hath it been since the halls of my father’s house knew thy steps?  A whole moon!”

“I feared that I should find Nechutes there,” Kenkenes explained.

During this pretty joust the brows of the prospective cup-bearer had knitted blackly.  The scowl was unpropitious.

“Thou mayest come freely now,” he growled, “The way shall be clear.”