“That is well, your Highness,” said the Count, studying Merapi with a smile.  “Where is the lady wounded?  Not in the breast, I trust.”

“No, Cousin, in the foot, which is why she travels with me in this chariot.”

“Your Highness was ever kind to the unfortunate.  I pray you let me take your place, or suffer me to set this girl upon a horse.”

“Drive on,” said Seti.

So, escorted by the soldiers, whom I heard making jests to each other about the Prince and the lady, as I think did the Hebrew Laban also, for he glared about him and ground his teeth, we came at last to the town.  Here, guided by Merapi, the chariot was halted at the house of Jabez her uncle, a white-bearded old Hebrew with a cunning eye, who rushed from the door of his mud-roofed dwelling crying he had done no harm that soldiers should come to take him.

“It is not you whom the Egyptians wish to capture, it is your niece and my betrothed,” shouted Laban, whereat the soldiers laughed, as did some women who had gathered round.  Meanwhile the Prince was helping Merapi to descend out of the chariot, from which indeed he lifted her.  The sight seemed to madden Laban, who rushed forward to tear her from his arms, and in the attempt jostled his Highness.  The captain of the soldiers—­he was an officer of Pharaoh’s bodyguard—­lifted his sword in a fury and struck Laban such a blow upon the head with the flat of the blade that he fell upon his face and lay there groaning.

“Away with that Hebrew dog and scourge him!” cried the captain.  “Is the royal blood of Egypt to be handled by such as he?”

Soldiers sprang forward to do his bidding, but Seti said quietly: 

“Let the fellow be, friends; he lacks manners, that is all.  Is he hurt?”

As he spoke Laban leapt to his feet and, fearing worse things, fled away with a curse and a glare of hate at the Prince.

“Farewell, Lady,” said Seti.  “I wish you a quick recovery.”

“I thank your Highness,” she answered, looking about her confusedly.  “Be pleased to wait a little while that I may return to you your jewel.”

“Nay, keep it, Lady, and if ever you are in need or trouble of any sort, send it to me who know it well and you shall not lack succour.”

She glanced at him and burst into tears.

“Why do you weep?” he asked.

“Oh! your Highness, because I fear that trouble is near at hand.  My affianced, Laban, has a revengeful heart.  Help me to the house, my uncle.”

“Listen, Hebrew,” said Seti, raising his voice; “if aught that is evil befalls this niece of yours, or if she is forced to walk whither she would not go, sorrow shall be your portion and that of all with whom you have to do.  Do you hear?”

“O my Lord, I hear, I hear.  Fear nothing.  She shall be guarded carefully as—­as she will doubtless guard that trinket on her foot.”

“Ana,” said the Prince to me that night, when I was talking with him before he went to rest, “I know not why, but I fear that man Laban; he has an evil eye.”