“Who knows?” she replied at length in a low voice.  “Perhaps it costs him his life, or perhaps—­perhaps he marries her and becomes Pharaoh of Egypt.  Much might depend on whether the queen chanced to care about such a man.”

Now Rames shook like a reed in the evening wind, and he looked at her with glowing eyes.

“Tua,” he whispered, “can it be possible—­do you mean that I am welcome to you, or are you but drawing me to shame and ruin?”

She made no answer to him in words, only with a certain grave deliberation, laid down the little ivory sceptre that she held, and suffering her troubled eyes to rest upon his eyes, bent forward and stretched out her arms towards him.

“Yes, Rames,” she murmured into his ear a minute later, “I am drawing you to whatever may be found upon this breast of mine, love, or majesty, or shame, or ruin, or the death of one or both of us, or all of them together.  Are you content to take the chances of this high game, Rames?”

“Ask it not, Tua.  You know, you know!”

She kissed him on the lips, and all her heart and all her youth were in that kiss.  Then, gently enough, she pushed him from her, saying: 

“Stand there, I would speak with you, and as I have said, the time is short.  Hearken to me, Rames, you are right; I know, as I have always known, and as you would have known also had you been less foolish than you are.  You love me and I love you, for so it was decreed where souls are made, and so it has been from the beginning and so it shall be to the end.  You, a gentleman of Egypt, love the Queen of Egypt, and she is yours and no other man’s.  Such is the decree of him who caused us to be born upon the same day, and to be nursed upon the same kind breast.  Well, after all, why not?  If love brings death upon us, as well may chance, at least the love will remain which is worth it all, and beyond death there is something.”

“Only this, Tua, I seek the woman not a throne, and alas! through me you may be torn from your high place.”

“The throne goes with the woman, Rames, they cannot be separated.  But, say, something comes over me; if that happened, if I were an outcast, a wanderer, with nothing save this shape and soul of mine, and it were you that sat upon a throne, would you still love me, Rames?”

“Why ask such questions?” he replied indignantly.  “Moreover, your talk is childish.  What throne can I ever sit on?”

A change fell upon her at his words.  She ceased to be the melting, passionate woman, and became once more the strong, far-seeing queen.

“Rames,” she said, “you understand why, although it tears my heart, I am sending you so far away and into so many dangers, do you not?  It is to save your life, for after what has chanced to-night in this fashion or in that here you would certainly die, as, had it not been for that plan of mine you must have died two hours ago.  There are many who hate you, Rames, and Pharaoh may recover, as I pray the gods he will, and over-ride my will, for you have slain his guest who was brought here to marry me.”