Never before had he so deeply realized how firmly he was bound to these men, and how he loved his noble profession.

Yet the duty he was now fulfilling was also great and glorious, and the God who had absolved him from his oath and smoothed the way for him to obey his father’s commands as a true and upright man, would perhaps bring him back to his comrades in arms, whose cordial farewell he still fancied he heard long after he was out of reach of their voices.

The greatness of the work assigned to him, the enthusiasm of a man who devotes himself with devout earnestness to the performance of a difficult task, the rapturous joy of the lover, who with well-founded hopes of the fulfilment of the purest and fairest desires of his heart, hastens to meet the woman of his choice, first dawned upon him when he had left the city behind and was dashing at a rapid trot toward the south-east across the flat, well-watered plain with its wealth of palm-groves.

While forcing his steed to a slower pace as he passed through the streets of the capital, and the region near the harbor, his mind was so engrossed by his recent experiences and his anxiety concerning the runaway youth, that he paid little attention to the throng of vessels lying at anchor, the motley crowd of ship owners, traders, sailors, and laborers, representatives of all the nations of Africa and Asia, who sought a livelihood here, and the officials, soldiers, and petitioners, who had followed Pharaoh from Thebes to the city of Rameses.

He had even failed to see two men of high rank, though one, Hornecht, the captain of the archers, had waved his hand to him.

They had retired into the deep gateway formed by the pylons at the entrance of the temple of Seth, to escape the clouds of dust which the desert wind was still blowing along the road.

While Hornecht was vainly trying to arrest the horseman’s attention, his companion, Bai, the second prophet of Amon, whispered:  “Let him go!  He will learn where his nephew is soon enough.”

“As you desire,” replied the soldier.  Then he eagerly continued the story he had just begun.  “When they brought the lad in, he looked like a piece of clay in the potter’s workshop.”

“No wonder,” replied the priest; “he had lain long enough in the road in the dust of Typhon.  But what was your steward seeking among the soldiers?”

“We had heard from my adon, whom I sent to the camp last evening, that the poor youth was attacked by a severe fever, so Kasana put up some wine and her nurse’s balsam, and dispatched the old creature with them to the camp.”

“To the youth or to Hosea?” asked the prophet with a mischievous smile.

“To the sufferer,” replied Hornecht positively, a frown darkening his brow.  But, restraining himself, he added as if apologizing:  “Her heart is as soft as wax, and the Hebrew youth—­you saw him yesterday. . . . "

“Is a splendid lad, just fitted to win a woman’s heart!” replied the priest laughing.  “Besides, whoever shows kindness to the nephew does not harm the uncle.”