Soon all were gone save the mumbling priests, the dying, the dead, and Abi with his officers.

The clouds rolled off, the moon and the stars shone out, filling the place with gentle light.  Then Tua spoke, looking down at the wretched Abi who grovelled before her.

“Say, now, Husband,” she asked, “who is god in Egypt?”

“Amen your father,” he gasped.

“And who is Pharaoh in Egypt?”

“You, and no other, O Queen.”

“Ah!” she said, “it was over that matter that we quarrelled, did we not? which forced me, whom you thought so helpless, to find helpers.  Look, there are their footsteps; they walk heavily, do they not, my Uncle?” and she nodded towards the huge fragments of the broken obelisks.

He glanced behind him at his ruined hall, at the dying and the dead.  “You are Pharaoh and no other,” he repeated with a shudder.  “Give breath to your servant, and let him live on in your shadow.”

“The first is not mine to give,” she answered coldly, “though perchance it may please Amen to hold you back a little while from that place where you must settle your account with him who went before me, and his companions who died in your streets.  I hope so, for you have work to do.  As for the second—­arise, you Priests and Officers, and see this Prince of yours do homage to the Queen of Egypt.”

They rose, and clung to each other trembling, for all the heart was out of them.  Then she pointed to her foot with the sceptre in her hand, and in their presence Abi knelt down and kissed her sandal.  After him followed the others, the priests, the captains, the head-stewards, and the butlers, till at length came Kaku, the astrologer, who prostrated himself before her, trembling in every limb.  But him she would not suffer even to touch her sandals.

“Tell me,” she said, drawing back her foot, “you who are a magician, and have studied the secret writings, how does it chance that you still live on, when for lesser crimes so many lie here dead, you who are stained with the blood of Pharaoh?”

Hearing these words from which he presaged the very worst, Kaku beat his head upon the ground, babbling denials of this awful crime, and at the same time began to implore pardon for what he said he had not committed.

“Cease,” she exclaimed, “and learn that your life is spared for a while, yes, and even Merytra’s.  Also you will retain your office of Vizier—­for a while.”

Now he began to pour out thanks, but she stopped him, saying: 

“Thank me not, seeing that you do not know the end of this matter.  Perchance it is hidden from you lest you should go mad, you and your wife, Merytra, she who was the Pharaoh’s Lady of the Footstool, and sang him to sleep.  Look at me, Wizard, and tell me, who am I?” and she bent down over him.

He glanced up at her, and their eyes met, nor could he turn his head away again.