“I do not think that my God, who sees the hearts of those that he has made, will avenge himself upon a woman because she refuses to be wedded to a murderer whom of her own will she never chose, which, Priest, is the fate you offer me.  Therefore I am content to leave judgment in the hands of the great Judge of all.  For the rest I defy you and your commands.  If I must be slaughtered, let me die, but at least let me die mistress of myself and free, who am no man’s love, or wife, or slave.”

“Well spoken!” whispered Seti to me.

Then this priest became terrible.  Waving his arms and rolling his wild eyes, he poured out some hideous curse upon the head of this poor maid, much of which, as it was spoken rapidly in an ancient form of Hebrew, we did not understand.  He cursed her living, dying, and after death.  He cursed her in her love and hate, wedded or alone.  He cursed her in child-bearing or in barrenness, and he cursed her children after her to all generations.  Lastly, he declared her cut off from and rejected by the god she worshipped, and sentenced her to death at the hands of any who could slay her.  So horrible was that curse that she shrank away from him, while Jabez crouched about the ground hiding his eyes with his hands, and even I felt my blood turn cold.

At length he paused, foaming at the lips.  Then, suddenly, shouting, “After judgment, doom!” he drew a knife from his robe and sprang at her.

She fled behind us.  He followed, but Seti, crying, “Ah, I thought it,” leapt between them, as he did so drawing the iron sword which he wore with his ceremonial dress.  At him he sprang and the next thing I saw was the red point of the sword standing out beyond the priest’s shoulders.

Down he fell, babbling: 

“Is this how you show your love for Israel, Prince?”

“It is how I show my hate of murderers,” answered Seti.

Then the man died.

“Oh!” cried Merapi wringing her hands, “once more I have caused Hebrew blood to flow and now all this curse will fall on me.”

“Nay, on me, Lady, if there is anything in curses, which I doubt, for this deed was mine, and at the worst yonder mad brute’s knife did not fall on you.”

“Yes, life is left if only for a little while.  Had it not been for you, Prince, by now, I——­” and she shuddered.

“And had it not been for you, Moon of Israel, by now I——­” and he smiled, adding, “Surely Fate weaves a strange web round you and me.  First you save me from the sword; then I save you.  I think, Lady, that in the end we ought to die together and give Ana here stuff for the best of all his stories.  Friend Jabez,” he went on to the Israelite who was still crouching in the corner with the eyes starting from his head, “get you back to your gentle-hearted people and make it clear to them why the lady Merapi cannot companion you, taking with you that carrion to prove your tale.  Tell them that if they send more men to molest your niece a like fate awaits them, but that now as before I do not turn my back upon them because of the deeds of a few madmen or evil-doers, as I have given them proof to-day.  Ana, make ready, since soon I leave for Memphis.  See that the Lady Merapi, who will travel alone, has fit escort for her journey, that is if it pleases her to depart from Tanis.”