Gathered there were Seti the Prince, clothed in a priest’s white robe, and wearing a linen headdress, but no ornaments, and Userti the Princess, high-priestess of Hathor, Lady of the West, Goddess of Love and Nature.  She wore Hathor’s vulture headdress, and on it the disc of the moon fashioned of silver.  Also were present Roi the head-priest, clad in his sacerdotal robes, an old and wizened man with a strong, fierce face, Ki the Sacrificer and Magician, Bakenkhonsu the ancient, myself, and a company of the priests of Amon-Ra, Mut, and Khonsu.  From behind the statues came the sound of solemn singing, though who sang we could not see.

Presently from out of the darkness that lay beyond the lamps appeared a woman, led by two priestesses and wrapped in a long cloak.  They brought her to an open place in front of the statue of Amon, took from her the cloak and departed, glancing back at her with eyes of hate and fear.  There before us stood Merapi, clad in white, with a simple wimple about her head made fast beneath her chin with that scarabaeus clasp which Seti had given to her in the city of Goshen, one spot of brightest blue amid a cloud of white.  She looked neither to right nor left of her.  Once only she glanced at the towering statue of the god that frowned above, then with a little shiver, fixed her eyes upon the pattern of the floor.

“What does she look like?” whispered Bakenkhonsu to me.

“A corpse made ready for the embalmers,” I answered.

He shook his great head.

“Then a bride made ready for her husband.”

Again he shook his head.

“Then a priestess about to read from the roll of Mysteries.”

“Now you have it, Ana, and to understand what she reads, which few priestesses ever do.  Also all three answers were right, for in this woman I seem to see doom that is Death, life that is Love, and spirit that is Power.  She has a soul which both Heaven and Earth have kissed.”

“Aye, but which of them will claim her in the end?”

“That we may learn before the dawn, Ana.  Hush! the fight begins.”

The head-priest, Roi, advanced and, standing before the god, sprinkled his feet with water and with perfume.  Then he stretched out his hands, whereon all present prostrated themselves, save Merapi only, who stood alone in that great place like the survivor of a battle.

“Hail to thee, Amon-Ra,” he began, “Lord of Heaven, Establisher of all things, Maker of the gods, who unrolled the skies and built the foundations of the Earth.  O god of gods, appears before thee this woman Merapi, daughter of Nathan, a child of the Hebrew race that owns thee not.  This woman blasphemes thy might; this woman defies thee; this woman sets up her god above thee.  Is it not so, woman?”

“It is so,” answered Merapi in a low voice.

“Thus does she defy thee, thou Only One of many Forms, saying ’if the god Amon of the Egyptians be a greater god than my god, let him snatch me out of the arms of my god and here in this the shrine of Amon take the breath from out my lips and leave me a thing of clay.’  Are these thy words, O woman?”