At this moment I grew faint and shut my eyes.  When I opened them again, the Prince had gone.  Six more days went by before I was allowed to leave my bed, and during this time I saw much of Merapi.  She was very sad and lived in fear of being killed by the Hebrews.  Also she was troubled in her heart because she thought she had betrayed her faith and people.

“At least you are rid of Laban,” I said.

“Never shall I be rid of him while we both live,” she answered.  “I belong to him and he will not loose my bond, because his heart is set on me.”

“And is your heart set on him?” I asked.

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

“A woman may not have a heart.  Oh!  Ana, I am unhappy,” she answered, and went away.

Also I saw others.  The Princess came to visit me.  She thanked me much because I had fulfilled my promise to her and guarded the Prince.  Moreover she brought me a gift of gold from Pharaoh, and other gifts of fine raiment from herself.  She questioned me closely about Merapi, of whom I could see she was already jealous, and was glad when she learned that she was affianced to a Hebrew.  Old Bakenkhonsu came too, and asked me many things about the Prince, the Hebrews and Merapi, especially Merapi, of whose deeds, he said, all Egypt was talking, questions that I answered as best I could.

“Here we have that woman of whom Ki told us,” he said, “she who shall bring so much joy and so much sorrow to the Prince of Egypt.”

“Why so?” I asked.  “He has not taken her into his house, nor do I think that he means to do so.”

“Yet he will, Ana, whether he means it or not.  For his sake she betrayed her people, which among the Israelites is a deadly crime.  Twice she saved his life, once by warning him of the ambush, and again by stabbing with her own hands one of her kinsmen who was murdering him.  Is it not so?  Tell me; you were there.”

“It is so, but what then?”

“This:  that whatever she may say, she loves him; unless indeed, it is you whom she loves,” and he looked at me shrewdly.

“When a woman has a prince, and such a prince to her hand, would she trouble herself to set snares to catch a scribe?” I asked, with some bitterness.

“Oho!” he said, with one of his great laughs, “so things stand thus, do they?  Well, I thought it, but, friend Ana, be warned in time.  Do not try to conjure down the Moon to be your household lamp lest she should set, and the Sun, her lord, should grow wroth and burn you up.  Well, she loves him, and therefore soon or late she will make him love her, being what she is.”

“How, Bakenkhonsu?”