“Always a very dangerous thing to do,” reflected Jabez aloud, “since the priest is apt to take the law into his own hands before the cause can be pleaded elsewhere.  Still, who am I that I should set up my reasonings against one who can grind Amon to powder in his own sanctuary, and who therefore may have warrant for all she thinks and does?”

Merapi stamped her foot.

“You know well it was you who brought me the command to dare the god Amon in his temple.  It was not I——­” she began.

“I do know,” replied Jabez waving his hand.  “I know also that is what every wizard says, whatever his nation or his gods, and what no one ever believes.  Thus because, having faith, you obeyed the command and through you Amon was smitten, among both the Israelites and the Egyptians you are held to be the greatest sorceress that has looked upon the Nile, and that is a dangerous repute, my niece.”

“One to which I lay no claim, and never sought.”

“Just so, but which all the same has come to you.  Well, knowing as without doubt you do all that will soon befall in Egypt, and having been warned, if you needed warning, of the danger with which you yourself are threatened, you still refuse to obey this second command which it is my duty to deliver to you?”

“I refuse.”

“Then on your own head be it, and farewell.  Oh!  I would add that there is a certain property in cattle, and the fruit of lands which descends to you from your father.  In the event of your death——­”

“Take it all, uncle, and may it prosper you.  Farewell.”

“A great woman, friend Ana, and a beautiful,” said the old Hebrew, after he had watched her go.  “I grieve that I shall never see her again, and, indeed, that no one will see her for very long; for, remember, she is my niece of whom I am fond.  Now I too must be going, having completed my errand.  All good fortune to you, Ana.  You are no longer a soldier, are you?  No?  Believe me, it is as well, as you will learn.  My homage to the Prince.  Think of me at times, when you grow old, and not unkindly, seeing that I have served you as best I could, and your master also, who I hope will soon find again that which he lost awhile ago.”

“Her Highness, Princess Userti,” I suggested.

“The Princess Userti among other things, Ana.  Tell the Prince, if he should deem them costly, that those horses which I sold him are really of the finest Syrian blood, and of a strain that my family has owned for generations.  If you should chance to have any friend whose welfare you desire, let him not go into the desert soldiering during the next few moons, especially if Pharaoh be in command.  Nay, I know nothing, but it is a season of great storm.  Farewell, friend Ana, and again farewell.”

“Now what did he mean by that?” thought I to myself, as I departed to make my report to Seti.  But no answer to the question rose in my mind.