“No,” she answered slowly, “I would not bring him to his death, but to life and honour and—­love, and one day I shall be Pharaoh.  Only, Asti, if you betray me to him I swear that I will bring you to your death, although you are so dear.”

“I shall not betray you,” answered the priestess, smiling again.  “In truth, most Beautiful, I do not think there is any need, even if I would.  Say now, why did a certain captain turn faint and leave the hall to-day when your eyes chanced to fall on him?”

“The heat,” suggested Tua, colouring.

“Yes, it was hot, but he is stronger than most men and had borne it long—­like others.  Still there are fires——­”

“Because he was afraid of my majesty,” broke in Tua hurriedly.  “You know I looked very royal there, Mother.”

“Yes, doubtless fear moved him—­or some other passion.  Yet, Beloved, put that thought from your heart as I do.  When you are Pharaoh you will learn that a monarch is a slave to the people and to the law.  Breathe but his name in love, and never will you see him more till you meet before Osiris.”

Tua hid her eyes in her hands for a moment, then she glanced up and there was another look upon her face, a strange, new look.

“When I am Pharaoh,” she answered, “there are certain matters in which I will be my own law, and if the people do not like it, they may find another Pharaoh.”

Asti started at her words, and a light of joy shone in her deep eyes.

“Truly your heart is high,” she said; “but, oh! if you love me—­and another—­bury that thought, bury it deep, or he will never live to see you placed alone upon the golden seat.  Know, Lady, that already from hour to hour I fear for him—­lest he should drink a poisoned cup, lest at night he should chance to stumble against a spear, lest an arrow—­shot in sport—­should fall against his throat and none know whence it came.”

Tua clenched her hands.

“If so, there should be such vengeance as Egypt has not heard of since Mena ruled.”

“Of what use is vengeance, Child, when the heart is empty and the tomb is sealed?”

Again Tua thought.  Then she said: 

“There are other gods besides Osiris.  Now what do men call me, Mother?  Nay, not my royal names.”

“They call you Morning Star of Amen; they call you Daughter of Amen.”

“Is that story true, Asti the Magician?”

“Aye, at least your mother dreamed the dream, for she told it to me and I have read its record, who am a priestess of Amen.”

“Then this high god should love me, should he not?  He should hear my prayers and give me power—­he should protect those who are dear to me.  Mother, they say that you, the Mistress of secret things, can open the ears of the gods and cause their mouths to speak.  Mother, I command you as your Queen, call up my father Amen before me, so that I may talk with him, for I have words to which he must listen.”