Again he began his passionate implorings, begging for some token, till at length she seemed to melt and take pity on him, for stretching out her hand, she chose a flower from the many that grew near, and gave it to him, then pointed to the trees that hid the wall, among which presently he vanished, reeling in the delirium of his joy.

She watched him go, smiling very strangely, then, still smiling, looked down at the bush whence she had plucked the flower, and Kaku noted that it was one used only by the embalmers to furnish coronals for the dead.

But Abi noted no such thing.  Forgetting his quarrel with Kaku and all else, he gasped, and foamed in his jealous rage, muttering that he would kill that captain, yes, and the false Queen, too, who dared to listen to a tale of love and give the lover flowers.  Yes, were she ten times Pharaoh he would kill her, as he had the right to do, and, the naked sword still in his hand, he turned to leave the place.

“If that is your will, Lord,” said Kaku in a strained voice, “bide here.”

“Why, man?” asked Abi.

“Because her Majesty comes,” he answered, “and this chamber is quiet and fitting.  None enter it save myself.”

As he spoke the words the door opened, and closed again, and before them stood Neter-Tua, Star of Amen.

In the dusk of that room the first thing that seemed to catch her eye was the bared blade in Abi’s hand.  For a moment she looked at it and him, also at Kaku crouching in the corner, then asked in her quiet voice: 

“Why is your sword drawn, O Husband?”

“To kill you, O Wife,” he answered furiously, for his rage mastered him.

She continued to look at him a little while and said, smiling in her strange fashion: 

“Indeed?  But why more now than at any other time?  Has Kaku’s counsel given you courage?”

“Need you ask, shameless woman?  Does not this window-place open on to yonder garden?”

“Oh!  I remember, that captain of yours—­he who slew Mermes, your daughter’s husband who made love to me—­so well that I rewarded him with a funeral flower, knowing that you watched us.  Settle your account with him as you and his wife may wish; it is no matter of mine.  But I warn you that if you would take men’s lives for such a fault as this, soon you will have no servants left, since they all are sinners who desire to usurp your place.”

Then Abi’s fury broke out.  He cursed and reviled her, he called her by ill names, swearing that she should die, who bewitched all men and was the love of none, and who made him a mock and a shame in the sight of Egypt.  But Neter-Tua only listened until at length he raved himself to silence.

“You talk much and do little,” she said at length.  “The sword is in your hand, use it, I am here.”

Maddened by her scorn he lifted the weapon and rushed at her, only to reel back again as though he had been smitten by some power unseen.  He rested against the wall, then again rushed and again reeled back.