“I leave him because he sent me with a message to you.”  She paused, looking at me sharply, then asked, “Who is that man?  I do not know him.”

“It is your misfortune, Userti, but one which can be mended.  He is named Ana the Scribe, who writes strange stories of great interest which you would do well to read who dwell too much upon the outside of life.  He is from Memphis and his father’s name was—­I forget what.  Ana, what was your father’s name?”

“One too humble for royal ears, Prince,” I answered, “but my grandfather was Pentaur the poet who wrote of the deeds of the mighty Rameses.”

“Is it so?  Why did you not tell me that before?  The descent should earn you a pension from the Court if you can extract it from Nehesi.  Well, Userti, his grandfather’s name was Pentaur whose immortal verses you have doubtless read upon temple walls, where our grandfather was careful to publish them.”

“I have—­to my sorrow—­and thought them poor, boastful stuff,” she answered coldly.

“To be honest, if Ana will forgive me, so do I. I can assure you that his stories are a great improvement on them.  Friend Ana, this is my sister, Userti, my father’s daughter though our mothers were not the same.”

“I pray you, Seti, to be so good as to give me my rightful titles in speaking of me to scribes and other of your servants.”

“Your pardon, Userti.  This, Ana, is the first Lady of Egypt, the Royal Heiress, the Princess of the Two Lands, the High-priestess of Amon, the Cherished of the Gods, the half-sister of the Heir-apparent, the Daughter of Hathor, the Lotus Bloom of Love, the Queen to be of—­Userti, whose queen will you be?  Have you made up your mind?  For myself I know no one worthy of so much beauty, excellence, learning and—­what shall I add—­sweetness, yes, sweetness.”

“Seti,” she said stamping her foot, “if it pleases you to make a mock of me before a stranger, I suppose that I must submit.  Send him away, I would speak with you.”

“Make a mock of you!  Oh! mine is a hard fate.  When truth gushes from the well of my heart, I am told I mock, and when I mock, all say—­he speaks truth.  Be seated, Sister, and talk on freely.  This Ana is my sworn friend who saved my life but now, for which deed perhaps he should be my enemy.  His memory is excellent also and he will remember what you say and write it down afterwards, whereas I might forget.  Therefore, with your leave, I will ask him to stay here.”

“My Prince,” I broke in, “I pray you suffer me to go.”

“My Secretary,” he answered with a note of command in his voice, “I pray you to remain where you are.”

So I sat myself on the ground after the fashion of a scribe, having no choice, and the Princess sat herself on a couch at the end of the table, but Seti remained standing.  Then the Princess said: