“Be silent, fellow,” I said.  “Least of all men should you complain of what his Highness does, seeing that already he has avenged the killing of this lady’s father, and now has saved her from lying out all night among the wild beasts and men of the wilderness.”

“Of the first I have heard more than enough,” he answered, “and of the second doubtless I shall hear more than enough also.  Ever since my affianced met this prince, she has looked on me with different eyes and spoken to me with another voice.  Yes, and when I press for marriage, she says it cannot be for a long while yet, because she is mourning for her father; her father forsooth, whom she never forgave because he betrothed her to me according to the custom of our people.”

“Perhaps she loves some other man?” I queried, wishing to learn all I could about this lady.

“She loves no man, or did not a while ago.  She loves herself alone.”

“One with so much beauty may look high in marriage.”

“High!” he replied furiously.  “How can she look higher than myself who am a lord of the line of Judah, and therefore greater far than an upstart prince or any other Egyptian, were he Pharaoh himself?”

“Surely you must be trumpeter to your tribe,” I mocked, for my temper was rising.

“Why?” he asked.  “Are not the Hebrews greater than the Egyptians, as those oppressors soon shall learn, and is not a lord of Israel more than any idol-worshipper among your people?”

I looked at the man clad in mean garments and foul from his labour in the brickfield, marvelling at his insolence.  There was no doubt but that he believed what he said; I could see it in his proud eye and bearing.  He thought that his tribe was of more import in the world than our great and ancient nation, and that he, an unknown youth, equalled or surpassed Pharaoh himself.  Then, being enraged by these insults, I answered: 

“You say so, but let us put it to the proof.  I am but a scribe, yet I have seen war.  Linger a little that we may learn whether a lord of Israel is better than a scribe of Egypt.”

“Gladly would I chastise you, Writer,” he answered, “did I not see your plot.  You wish to delay me here, and perhaps to murder me by some foul means, while your master basks in the smiles of the Moon of Israel.  Therefore I will not stay, but another time it shall be as you wish, and perhaps ere long.”

Now I think that I should have struck him in the face, though I am not one of those who love brawling.  But at this moment there appeared a company of Egyptian horse led by none other than the Count Amenmeses.  Seeing the Prince in the Chariot, they halted and gave the salute.  Amenmeses leapt to the ground.

“We are come out to search for your Highness,” he said, “fearing lest some hurt had befallen you.”

“I thank you, Cousin,” answered the Prince, “but the hurt has befallen another, not me.”