“Where was Rames?” she wondered.  “What fate had overtaken him?  Something in her seemed to answer—­Death.  Oh! if Rames were dead, what should she do?  Of what use was it to be Queen of Egypt, the first woman in the world, if Rames were dead?”

Loneliness, insufferable loneliness seemed to get a hold of her.  She slipped from her bed, and through the doorway of her little pylon chamber.  Now she was upon the narrow stair, and in face of her was that other chamber where Asti slept.  Someone was talking with her!  Perhaps Mermes was with his wife, and if so she could not enter.  No, it was Asti’s voice, and, listening, she could hear her murmuring prayers or invocations in solemn tones.  She pushed open the door and entered.  A little lamp burned in the room, and by its feeble light she saw the white-robed Asti, whose long hair fell about her, standing with upturned eyes and arms outstretched to Heaven.  Suddenly Asti saw her also, though but dimly for she stood in the dense shadow, and knew her not.

“Advance, O thou Ghost, and declare thyself, for never was thy help more needed,” she said.

“It is no ghost, but I,” said Tua.  “What dealings are these that you have with ghosts at this deadest hour of the night, Asti?  Do not enough terrors encompass us that you must needs call on your familiar spirits to add to them?”

“I call on the spirits to save us from them, Queen, for, like you, I think that we are set in the midst of perils.  This night is full of sorcery; I scent it in the air, and strive to match spell with spell.  But why do you not sleep?”

“I cannot, Asti, I cannot.  Fear has got hold of me.  Oh!  I would that we had never come to this hateful Memphis, or set eyes upon its ill-omened lord, that foul brute who seeks to make a wife of me.”

“Be not afraid, Lady,” said Asti, throwing her arms about Tua’s slight and quivering form.  “To-morrow morning we march; I have it from Pharaoh, and already the guard make preparations, while as for the accursed Abi, he is in prison.”

“There is no prison that will hold him, Asti, save the grave.  Oh! why did not my Father command him to be slain, as I would have done?  Then, at least, we should be free of him, and he could never marry me.”

“Because it was otherwise decreed, O Neter-Tua, and Pharaoh must fulfil his fate and ours, for though he is so gentle, none can turn him.”

As she spoke the words, somewhere, far beneath them, arose a cry, a voice of one in dread or woe, and with it the sound of feet upon the stairs.

“What passes?” said Asti, leaping to the door.

“Pharaoh is dead or dying,” answered the terrified voice without.  “Let her Majesty come to Pharaoh.”

They threw on their garments, they ran down the narrow stair and across the halls till they came to the chamber of Pharaoh.  There upon his bed he lay and about him were the physicians of his Court.  He was speechless, but his eyes were open, and he knew his daughter, for, raising his hand feebly, he beckoned to her, and pointed at his feet.