“What has Mena done?” Once more Nefert interrupted her mother, and her nostrils quivered.

“Mena,” said Katuti, decidedly, “has violated the truth and esteem which he owes you—­he has trodden them under foot, and—­”

“Mena?” exclaimed the young wife with flashing eyes; she flung the cat on the floor, and sprang from her couch.

“Yes—­Mena,” said Katuti firmly.  “Your brother writes that he would have neither silver nor gold for his spoil, but took the fair daughter of the prince of the Danaids into his tent.  The ignoble wretch!”

“Ignoble wretch!” cried Nefert, and two or three times she repeated her mother’s last words.  Katuti drew back in horror, for her gentle, docile, childlike daughter stood before her absolutely transfigured beyond all recognition.

She looked like a beautiful demon of revenge; her eyes sparkled, her breath came quickly, her limbs quivered, and with extraordinary strength and rapidity she seized the dwarf by the hand, led him to the door of one of the rooms which opened out of the hall, threw it open, pushed the little man over the threshold, and closed it sharply upon him; then with white lips she came up to her mother.

“An ignoble wretch did you call him?” she cried out with a hoarse husky voice, “an ignoble wretch!  Take back your words, mother, take back your words, or—­”

Katuti turned paler and paler, and said soothingly: 

“The words may sound hard, but he has broken faith with you, and openly dishonored you.”

“And shall I believe it?” said Nefert with a scornful laugh.  “Shall I believe it, because a scoundrel has written it, who has pawned his father’s body and the honor of big family; because it is told you by that noble and brave gentleman! why a box on the ears from Mena would be the death of him.  Look at me, mother, here are my eyes, and if that table there were Mena’s tent, and you were Mena, and you took the fairest woman living by the hand and led her into it, and these eyes saw it—­aye, over and over again—­I would laugh at it—­as I laugh at it now; and I should say, ‘Who knows what he may have to give her, or to say to her,’ and not for one instant would I doubt his truth; for your son is false and Mena is true.  Osiris broke faith with Isis—­but Mena may be favored by a hundred women—­he will take none to his tent but me!”

“Keep your belief,” said Katuti bitterly, “but leave me mine.”

“Yours?” said Nefert, and her flushed cheeks turned pale again.  “What do you believe?  You listen to the worst and basest things that can be said of a man who has overloaded you with benefits!  A wretch, bah! an ignoble wretch?  Is that what you call a man who lets you dispose of his estate as you please!”

“Nefert,” cried Katuti angrily, “I will—­”