“What is it now, man?” asked Seti.  “Can I not even sup in peace?  Stay, before you answer tell me, do things end or begin in sleep?  The learned Ana and I differ on the matter and would hear your wisdom.  Bear in mind, Pambasa, that before we are born we must have slept, since of that time we remember nothing, and after we are dead we certainly seem to sleep, as any who have looked on mummies know.  Now answer.”

The chamberlain stared at the wine flask on the table as though he suspected his master of having drunk too much.  Then in a hard official voice he said: 

“She comes!  She comes!  She comes, offering greetings and adoration to the Royal Son of Ra.”

“Does she indeed?” asked Seti.  “If so, why say it three times?  And who comes?”

“The high Princess, the heiress of Egypt, the daughter of Pharaoh, your Highness’s royal half-sister, the great lady Userti.”

“Let her enter then.  Ana, stand you behind me.  If you grow weary and I give leave you can depart; the slaves will show you your sleeping-place.”

Pambasa went, and presently through the curtain appeared a royal-looking lady splendidly apparelled.  She was accompanied by four waiting women who fell back on the threshold and were no more seen.  The Prince stepped forward, took both her hands in his and kissed her on the brow, then drew back again, after which they stood a moment looking at each other.  While they remained thus I studied her who was known throughout the land as the “Beautiful Royal Daughter,” but whom till now I had never seen.  In truth I did not think her beautiful, although even had she been clad in a peasant’s robe I should have been sure that she was royal.  Her face was too hard for beauty and her black eyes, with a tinge of grey in them, were too small.  Also her nose was too sharp and her lips were too thin.  Indeed, had it not been for the delicately and finely-shaped woman’s form beneath, I might have thought that a prince and not a princess stood before me.  For the rest in most ways she resembled her half-brother Seti, though her countenance lacked the kindliness of his; or rather both of them resembled their father, Meneptah.

“Greeting, Sister,” he said, eyeing her with a smile in which I caught a gleam of mockery.  “Purple-bordered robes, emerald necklace and enamelled crown of gold, rings and pectoral, everything except a sceptre—­why are you so royally arrayed to visit one so humble as your loving brother?  You come like sunlight into the darkness of the hermit’s cell and dazzle the poor hermit, or rather hermits,” and he pointed to me.

“Cease your jests, Seti,” she replied in a full, strong voice.  “I wear these ornaments because they please me.  Also I have supped with our father, and those who sit at Pharaoh’s table must be suitably arrayed, though I have noted that sometimes you think otherwise.”

“Indeed.  I trust that the good god, our divine parent, is well to-night as you leave him so early.”