“Nurse,” she went on presently, “I cannot persuade this Lord that I am Egypt and no other.  Try you.”

So Asti loosed her black veil, and let it fall about her feet.  He stared at her noble features and grey hair, then, uttering a great cry of “Mother, my Mother, who they swore to me was dead in Memphis,” he flung himself upon her breast, and there burst into weeping.

“Aye, Rames,” said Asti presently, “your Mother, she who bore you, and no other woman, and with her one who because her royal heart loves you now as from the first, from moon to moon for two whole years has braved the dangers of the desert, and of wicked men, till at last Amen her father brings her safely to your side.  Now do you believe?”

“Aye,” answered Rames, “I believe.”

“Then, O faithful Captain,” said Tua, “take this gift from Egypt’s Queen, which a while ago you thrust aside, and be its Lord and mine,” and lifting the diadem of pearls crested with the royal uraei she set it on his brow, as once before she had done in that hour of dawn when she vowed herself to him in Thebes.

It was night, and all their wonderful story had been told.

“Such is our tale, Rames my Son,” said Asti, “and long may you search before you find another that will match it.  Now tell us yours.”

“It is short, Mother,” he answered.  “Obeying the commands of her Majesty yonder,” and he bowed towards Tua, who sat at the further side of the table at which they ate, “I travelled up the Nile to this city.  As the old king, the father of the Prince of Kesh, would have slain me I attacked him first by the help of my Egyptians and his own subjects, and—­well, he died.  Moreover, none regretted him, for he was a bad king, and I stepped into his place, and ever since have been engaged in righting matters which they needed.  Long ago I would have returned to Egypt and reported myself, only my spies told me of all that had happened there.  They told me, for instance, of the murder of Pharaoh, by the witchcraft of Abi and his companions; and they told me that Pharaoh’s daughter, the Star of Amen, forgetting all things and the oath she swore to me, had married her old uncle Abi that she might save her life and power.”

“And you believed them, Rames?” asked Tua reproachfully.

“What else could I do but believe, Lady, seeing that those same spies swore that they had seen your Majesty seated upon your throne at Memphis, and elsewhere, and causing Abi to run to and fro like a little dog, and do your bidding in all things?  How could I know that it was your Double, and not yourself that married Abi?”

“I think that Abi knows to-day,” answered Tua, “since it seems that a Ka makes but a bad wife to any man.  But now what shall we do?”

“Will you not first marry me, Lady?” suggested Rames.  “Afterwards, we can think.”

“Aye,” she answered, “I will marry you as I have promised, but in one place only, the temple of Amen in Egypt.  First win me back my throne, then ask for my hand.”