“Then woes await me, O thou who wast my mother?”

“How can it be otherwise?  Light and darkness make the day, joy and sorrow make the life.  Thou art human, be content.”

“Divine also, O Ahura, if all tales be true.”

“Then pay for thy divinity in tears and be satisfied.  Content is the guerdon of the beast, but gods are wafted upwards on the wings of pain.  How can that gold be pure which has not known the fire?”

“Thou tellest me nothing,” wailed Tua, “and it is not for myself I ask.  I am fair, I am Amen’s daughter, and splendid is my heritage.  Yet, O Dweller in Osiris, thou who once didst fill the place I hold to-day, I tell thee that I would pay away this pomp, could I but be sure that I shall not live loveless, that I shall not be given as a chattel to one whom I hate, that one—­whom I do not hate—­will live to call me—­wife.  Great dangers threaten him—­and me, Amen is mighty; he is the potter that moulds the clay of men; if I be his child, if his spirit is breathed into me, oh! let him help me now.”

“Let thine own faith help thee.  Are not the words of Amen, which he spake concerning thee, written down?  Study them and ask no more.  Love is an arrow that does not miss its mark; it is the immortal fire from on high which winds and waters cannot quench.  Therefore love on.  Thou shalt not love in vain.  Queen and Daughter, fare thee well awhile.”

“Nay, nay, one word, Immortal.  I thank thee, thou Messenger of the gods, but when these troubles come upon me—­and another, when the sea of dangers closes o’er our heads, when shame is near and I am lonely, as well may chance, then to whom shall I turn for succour?”

“Then thou hast one within thee who is strong to aid.  It was given to thee at thy birth, O Star of Amen, and Asti can call it forth.  Come hither, thou Asti, and swiftly, for I must be gone, and first I would speak with thee.”

Asti crept forward, and the glowing shape in the royal robe bent over her so that the light of it shone upon her face.  It bent over her and seemed to whisper in her ear.  Then it held out its hands towards Tua as though in blessing, and instantly was not.

Once more the two women stood in Tua’s chamber.  Pale and shaken they looked into each other’s eyes.

“You have had your will, Queen,” said Asti; “for if Amen did not come, he sent a messenger, and a royal one.”

“Interpret me this vision,” answered Tua, “for to me, at any rate, that Spirit said little.”

“Nay, it said much.  It said that love fails not of its reward, and what more went you out to seek?”

“Then I am glad,” exclaimed Tua joyfully.

“Be not too glad, Queen, for to-night we have sinned, both of us, who dared to summon Amen from his throne, and sin also fails not of its reward.  Blood is the price of that oracle.”

“Whose blood, Asti?  Ours?”

“Nay, worse, that of those who are dear to us.  Troubles arise in Egypt, Queen.”