“He would tear the panther-skin from the haughty priest’s shoulders,” cried Rameri, “if he dared to humiliate you so in his presence;” and tears of rage ran down his smooth cheeks as he spoke.

“Put anger aside,” said Bent-Anat.  “You were still quite little the last time my father took part in this festival.”

“Oh!  I remember that morning well,” exclaimed Rameri, “and shall never forget it.”

“So I should think,” said the princess.  “Do not leave us, Nefert—­you are now my sister.  It was a glorious morning; we children were collected in the great hall of the King, all in festival dresses; he had us called into this room, which had been inhabited by my mother, who then had been dead only a few months.  He took each of us by the hand, and said he forgave us everything we might have done wrong if only we were sincerely penitent, and gave us each a kiss on our forehead.  Then he beckoned us all to him, and said, as humbly as if he were one of us instead of the great king, ’Perhaps I may have done one of you some injustice, or have kept you out of some right; I am not conscious of such a thing, but if it has occurred I am very sorry’—­we all rushed upon him, and wanted to kiss him, but he put us aside smiling, and said, ’Each of you has enjoyed an equal share of one thing, that you may be sure—­I mean your father’s love; and I see now that you return what I have given you.’  Then he spoke of our mother, and said that even the tenderest father could not fill the place of a mother.  He drew a lovely picture of the unselfish devotion of the dead mother, and desired us to pray and to sacrifice with him at her resting-place, and to resolve to be worthy of her; not only in great things but in trifles too, for they make up the sum of life, as hours make the days, and the years.  We elder ones clasped each other’s hands, and I never felt happier than in that moment, and afterwards by my mother’s grave.”  Nefert raised her eyes that were wet with tears.

“With such a father it must be easy to be good,” she said.

“Did your mother never speak good words that went to your heart on the morning of this festival?” asked Bent-Anat.

Nefert colored, and answered:  “We were always late in dressing, and then had to hurry to be at the temple in time.”

“Then let me be your mother to-day,” cried the princess, “and yours too, Rameri.  Do you not remember how my father offered forgiveness to the officers of the court, and to all the servants, and how he enjoined us to root out every grudge from our hearts on this day?  ’Only stainless garments,’ he said, ‘befit this feast; only hearts without spot.’  So, brother, I will not hear an evil word about Ameni, who is most likely forced to be severe by the law; my father will enquire into it all and decide.  My heart is so full, it must overflow.  Come, Nefert, give me a kiss, and you too, Rameri.  Now I will go into my little temple, in which the images of our ancestors stand, and think of my mother and the blessed spirits of those loved ones to whom I may not sacrifice to-day.”