“I have a gift for you, Rames, from one whose name may not be spoken.”

“Give it to me,” he said eagerly, “I feared that it was all but a dream.”

“Oh!” replied Asti scanning his face, “so there was a dream, was there?  Did it fall upon you last night when the daughter of Amen, my foster-child, instructed you in secret?”

“The gift,” said Rames, stretching out his hand.

Then, smiling in her quiet fashion, his mother drew from the bosom of her robe some object that was wrapped in linen and, touching her forehead with the royal seal that fastened it, gave it to Rames.  With trembling fingers he broke the seal and there within the linen lay a ring which for some years, as Rames knew, Tua had worn upon the first finger of her right hand.  It was massive and of plain gold, and upon the bezel of it was cut the symbol of the sun, on either side of which knelt a man and a woman crowned with the double crown of Egypt, and holding in their right hands the looped Sign of Life which they stretched up towards the glory of the sun.

“Do you know who wore that ring in long past days?” asked Asti of Rames who pressed it to his lips.

He shook his head who remembered only that Tua had worn it.

“It was your forefather and mine, Rames, the last of the royal rulers of our line, who reigned over Egypt and also over the Land of Kesh.  A while ago the embalmers re-clothed his divine body in the tomb, and the Princess, who was present there with your father and myself, drew this ring off his dead hand and offered it to Mermes, who would not take it, seeing that it is a royal signet.  So she wore it herself, and now for her own reasons she sends it to you, perhaps to give you authority in Kesh where that mighty seal is known.”

“I thank the Queen,” he murmured.  “I shall wear it always.”

“Then let it be on your breast till you have passed the frontier, lest some should ask questions that you find it hard to answer.  My son,” she went on quickly, “you dare to love this queen of ours.”

“In truth I do, Mother.  Did not you, who know everything, know that?  Also it is your fault who brought us up together.”

“Nay, my son, the fault of the gods who have so decreed.  But—­does she love you?”

“You are always with her, Mother, ask her yourself, if you need to ask.  At least, she has sent me her own ring.  Oh!  Mother, Mother, guard her night and day, for if harm comes to her, then I die.  Mother, queens cannot give themselves where they will as other women can; it is policy that thrusts their husbands on them.  Keep her unwed, Mother.  Though it should cost her her throne, still I say let her not be cast into the arms of one she hates.  Protect her in her trial, if such should come; and if strength fails and the gods desert her, then hide her in the web of the magic that you have, and preserve her undefiled, for so shall I bless your name for ever.”