Kenkenes smiled.  “She did not surrender.  It was I.”

“Thy faith?” the murket asked in a voice low with earnestness.

“Thou hast said!”

A dead silence ensued.  Kenkenes may have awaited the outbreak with a quickening of the heart, but it did not come.  Instead, the murket sat down on the bench and gazed at his son intently.

After a long interval he spoke.

“Thus far had I hoped that thou wast taken by the Israelite but in thy fancy.  The hope was vain.  Thou art in love with her.”

Kenkenes endured the steady gaze and waited for Mentu to go on.

“There is no help for thee now,” the murket continued stoically.  “If the gods will but tolerate thee till the madness leaves thee after thou art wedded and satisfied, it may be that thou wilt turn again to the faith of thy fathers.  But if I would fix thee in thine apostasy I should try to persuade thee now.”

“Aye, and further, I should be moved to urge thee into heresy,” calmly responded Kenkenes.

The murket flung up one hand in a gesture of dissent, and arising, walked toward the door of the workroom.  There he leaned his shoulder against the frame and looked out at the night.  Presently Kenkenes went to him and laid his hand on his sleeve.

The murket spoke first, proving what thoughts had been his during the little space of silence.

“There is little patriotism in thee, Kenkenes.  Thou wouldst wed with one of Egypt’s enemies and bow down to the God which has devastated thy country.”

The hand on his sleeve fell.

“What did Egypt to Israel for a hundred years before these miseries came to pass?” Kenkenes asked.  “Let me tell thee how Egypt hath used Rachel.  She is free-born, of noble blood, even as thou art and as I am.  Her house was wealthy, the name powerful.  There were ten of her family—­four of her mother’s, six of her father’s.  Rameses, the Incomparable Pharaoh, had use for their treasure and need of their labor in the brick-fields and mines.  This day Rachel possesses not even her own soul and body, nor one garment to cover herself, nor a single kinsman to shield her from the power of her masters!  Well for Egypt that the God of Israel hath not demanded of Egypt treasure for treasure seized, toil for toil compelled, lash for lash inflicted, blood for blood outpoured!  This desolation had been thrice desolate and Egypt’s glory gone like the green grass in the breath of the Khamsin!  And yet would such justice restore to Rachel the love she lost, the comfort that should have been hers?  Nay, not even the sorcery of Mesu might do that.  The debt of Egypt to Rachel is most cheaply discharged by the service of one life for the ten which were taken from her!”

“Let be; Israel shall cumber Egypt no longer,” the murket muttered after a little; “and the quarrel between them shall be at an end.  The hour approacheth when every Hebrew shall leave Egypt—­shall be driven forth if he leave it not willingly.”