“Aha!” said the priest.  “Perhaps Hosea may instil different and better views.  To rule—­a lofty ambition for youth.  The misfortune is that we who have attained it are but servants whose burdens grow heavier with the increasing number of those who obey us.  You understand me, Hornecht, and you, my lad, will comprehend my meaning later, when you become the palm-tree the promise of your youth foretells.  But we are losing time.  Who sent you to Hosea?”

The youth cast down his eyes irresolutely, but when the prophet broke the silence with the query:  “And what has become of the frankness you were taught?” he responded promptly and resolutely: 

“I came for the sake of a woman whom you know not.”

“A woman?” the prophet repeated, casting an enquiring glance at Hornecht.  “When a bold warrior and a fair woman seek each other, the Hathors”—­[The Egyptian goddesses of love, who are frequently represented with cords in their hands,]—­are apt to appear and use the binding cords; but it does not befit a servant of the divinity to witness such goings on, so I forbear farther questioning.  Take charge of the lad, captain, and aid him to deliver his message to Hosea.  The only doubt is whether he is in the city.”

“No,” the soldier answered, “but he is expected with thousands of his men at the armory to-day.”

“Then may the Hathors, who are partial to love messengers, bring these two together to-morrow at latest,” said the priest.

But the lad indignantly retorted:  “I am the bearer of no love message.”

The prophet, pleased with the bold rejoinder, answered pleasantly:  “I had forgotten that I was accosting a young shepherd-prince.”  Then he added in graver tones:  “When you have found Hosea, greet him from me and tell him that Bai, the second prophet of Amon sought to discharge a part of the debt of gratitude he owed for his release from the hands of the Libyans by extending his protection to you, his nephew.  Perhaps, my brave boy, you do not know that you have escaped as if by a miracle a double peril; the savage populace would no more have spared your life than would the stifling dust of the falling houses.  Remember this, and tell Hosea also from me, Bai, that I am sure when he beholds the woe wrought by the magic arts of one of your race on the house of Pharaoh, to which he vowed fealty, and with it on this city and the whole country, he will tear himself with abhorrence from his kindred.  They have fled like cowards, after dealing the sorest blows, robbing of their dearest possessions those among whom they dwelt in peace, whose protection they enjoyed, and who for long years have given them work and ample food.  All this they have done and, if I know him aright, he will turn his back upon men who have committed such crimes.  Tell him also that this has been voluntarily done by the Hebrew officers and men under the command of the Syrian Aarsu.  This very morning—­Hosea will have heard