“You are still at a good time of life,” said Paaker.

“Perhaps at the best,” replied the widow, “at any rate from my point of view; regarding life as I do as a charge, a heavy responsibility.”

“The administration of this involved estate must give you many, anxious hours—­that I understand.”  Katuti nodded, and then said sadly: 

“I could bear it all, if I were not condemned to see my poor child being brought to misery without being able to help her or advise her.  You once would willingly have married her, and I ask you, was there a maiden in Thebes—­nay in all Egypt—­to compare with her for beauty?  Was she not worthy to be loved, and is she not so still?  Does she deserve that her husband should leave her to starve, neglect her, and take a strange woman into his tent as if he had repudiated her?  I see what you feel about it!  You throw all the blame on me.  Your heart says:  ’Why did she break off our betrothal,’ and your right feeling tells you that you would have given her a happier lot.”

With these words Katuti took her nephew’s hand, and went on with increasing warmth.

“We know you to-day for the most magnanimous man in Thebes, for you have requited injustice with an immense benefaction; but even as a boy you were kind and noble.  Your father’s wish has always been dear and sacred to me, for during his lifetime he always behaved to us as an affectionate brother, and I would sooner have sown the seeds of sorrow for myself than for your mother, my beloved sister.  I brought up my child—­I guarded her jealously—­for the young hero who was absent, proving his valor in Syria—­for you and for you only.  Then your father died, my sole stay and protector.”

“I know it all!” interrupted Paaker looking gloomily at the floor.

“Who should have told you?” said the widow.  “For your mother, when that had happened which seemed incredible, forbid us her house, and shut her ears.  The king himself urged Mena’s suit, for he loves him as his own son, and when I represented your prior claim he commanded;—­and who may resist the commands of the sovereign of two worlds, the Son of Ra?  Kings have short memories; how often did your father hazard his life for him, how many wounds had he received in his service.  For your father’s sake he might have spared you such an affront, and such pain.”

“And have I myself served him, or not?” asked the pioneer flushing darkly.

“He knows you less,” returned Katuti apologetically.  Then she changed her tone to one of sympathy, and went on: 

“How was it that you, young as you were, aroused his dissatisfaction, his dislike, nay his—­”

“His what?” asked the pioneer, trembling with excitement.

“Let that pass!” said the widow soothingly.  “The favor and disfavor of kings are as those of the Gods.  Men rejoice in the one or bow to the other.”

“What feeling have I aroused in Rameses besides dissatisfaction, and dislike?  I insist on knowing!” said Paaker with increasing vehemence.