And though he was sorry in his heart for his friend’s unhappiness, he confessed his admiration for Rachel.

“Late,” cried Hotep, rising.

“Thy pardon, Hotep,” Kenkenes replied, advancing into the chamber, “I had an errand of much importance to Masaarah and it was fruitless.  It shall trouble me no more.”

Hotep lifted his brows, as though he exclaimed to himself, and made no answer.  Kenkenes greeted the guests with a wave of his hand and did obeisance before Rameses.

“Thou speakest of Masaarah, my Kenkenes,” the crown prince commented after the salutation, “and it suggests an inquiry I would make of thee.  Dost thou go on as sculptor, or wilt thou follow thy father into the art of building?”

“Since the Pharaoh chose for my father, he shall choose for me also.”

“Nay, the Pharaoh did not choose,” Rameses objected dryly.  “It was I.”

“Of a truth?  Then thou shalt choose for me, O my generous Prince.”

“Follow thy father.  I would have thee for my murket.  Nay, it is ever so.  I mold the Pharaoh and he gets the credit.”

“And thou, the blame, when blame accrues from the molding,” Menes put in very distinctly, though under his breath.

“But be thou of cheer, O Son of the Sun,” Kenkenes added.  “When thou art Pharaoh, thou canst retaliate upon thine own heir, in the same fashion.”

“Thou givest him tardy comfort, O Son of Mentu,” Siptah commented with an unpleasant laugh.  “He will lose all recollection of the grudge, waiting so long.”

Rameses turned his heavy eyes toward the speaker, but Kenkenes halted any remark the prince might have made.

“Nay, let it pass,” he said placidly, dropping into a chair.  “All this savors too much of the future and is out of place in the happy improvidence of the present.”

“Let it all pass?” Ta-user asked.  “Nay, I would hold the prince to the promise he made a moment agone, when the choosing of the new murket comes round again.”

“Do thou so, for me, then, when that time comes,” Kenkenes interrupted.

Ta-user laughed very softly and delivered the young artist a level look of understanding from her topaz eyes.  “I fear thou art indeed improvident,” she continued, “if thou leavest thy future to others.”

“Then all the world is improvident, since it belongeth to others to shape every man’s future.  But Hotep, the lawgiver, denies this thing.  He holds that every man builds for himself.”

“Right, Hotep!” Rameses exclaimed.  “It was such belief that made a world-conqueror of my grandsire.”

“Nay, thy pardon, O my Prince.  Hotep’s counsel will not always hold,” Kenkenes objected.

“Give me to know wherein it faileth,” the prince demanded.

“Alas! in a thousand things.  In truth a man even draws his breath by the leave of others.”

“By the puny god, Harpocrates!” the prince cried, scoffing.  “That is the weakest avowal I have heard in a moon!”