“This poor singing-girl,” repeated Janees after her, “who, or whose mother,” and he bowed to Asti with a smile, “has pearls to sell that are worth the revenue of a kingdom; this singing-girl, the ivory figure on whose harp is crowned with the royal uraei of Egypt; this singing-girl whose chiselled loveliness is such as might be found perhaps among the daughters of ancient kings; this singing-girl whose voice can ravish the hearts of men and beasts!  Well, Lady Neferte, I thank you for your warning, still I am ready to take my chance, hoping that my children will not be made ashamed by the blood of such a singing-girl as this, who, as I saw when that screen fell, has stamped upon her throat the holy sign they worship on the Nile.”

“I am honoured,” answered Tua coldly, “yet it may not be.  Among my own humble folk I have a lover, and him I will wed or no man.”

“You have a lover!  Then hide his name from me, lest presently I should play Set to his Osiris and rend him into pieces.  You shake your head, knowing doubtless that the man is great, yet I tell you that I will conquer him and rend him into pieces for the crime of being loved by you.  Listen now!  I would make you my Queen, but Queen or not, mine you shall be who lie in my power.  I will not force you, I will give you time.  But if on the morning of the third day from this night you still refuse to share my throne, why, then you shall sit upon its footstool.”

Now, in her anger, Tua threw back her veil, and met him eye to eye.

“You think me great,” she said, “and truly you are right, for whatever is my rank, with me go my gods, and in their strength my innocence is great.  Let me be, you petty King of Tat, lest I lift up my voice to heaven, and call down upon you the anger of the gods.”

“Already, Lady, you have called down upon me the anger of a goddess, that Hathor of whom I spoke, and for the rest I fear them not.  Let them do their worst.  On the third night from this night, as Queen or slave, I swear that you shall be mine.  This woman here, whom you call your mother, shall be witness to my oath, and to its end.”

“Aye, King,” broke in Asti, “I will be witness, but as to the end of that oath I do not know it yet.  Would you like to learn?  In my own country I was held to have something of a gift, I mean in the way of magic.  It came to me, I know not whence, and it is very uncertain—­at times it is my servant, and at times I can do nothing.  Still, for your sake, I would try.  Is it your pleasure to see that end of which you spoke, the end of your attempt to force yonder maiden to be your queen or love?”

“Aye, Woman,” answered Janees, “if you have a trick, show it—­why not?”

“So be it, King; but, of course, I have your word that you will not blame me if by any chance the trick should not prove to your liking—­your royal word.  Now stand you there, and look into this water while I pray our gods, the gods of my own country, to be gracious, and to show you what shall be your state at this same hour on the third night from now, which you say and hope shall be the night of your wedding.  Sing, my Daughter, sing that old and sacred song which I have taught you.  It will serve to while away the tedium of our waiting until the gods declare themselves, if such be their will.”