“It is settled—­I must go,” said the princess.  “Oh! if only my father were not so far off, and that I could consult him!”

“Yes! the war, and always the war!” sighed Nefert.  “Why do not men rest content with what they have, and prefer the quiet peace, which makes life lovely, to idle fame?”

“Would they be men? should we love them?” cried Bent-Anat eagerly.  “Is not the mind of the Gods, too, bent on war?  Did you ever see a more sublime sight than Pentaur, on that evening when he brandished the stake he had pulled up, and exposed his life to protect an innocent girl who was in danger?”

“I dared not once look down into the court,” said Nefert.  “I was in such an agony of mind.  But his loud cry still rings in my ears.”

“So rings the war cry of heroes before whom the enemy quails!” exclaimed Bent-Anat.

“Aye, truly so rings the war cry!” said prince Rameri, who had entered his sister’s half-dark room unperceived by the two women.

The princess turned to the boy.  “How you frightened me!” she said.

“You!” said Rameri astonished.

“Yes, me.  I used to have a stout heart, but since that evening I frequently tremble, and an agony of terror comes over me, I do not know why.  I believe some demon commands me.”

“You command, wherever you go; and no one commands you,” cried Rameri.  “The excitement and tumult in the valley, and on the quay, still agitate you.  I grind my teeth myself when I remember how they turned me out of the school, and how Paaker set the dog at us.  I have gone through a great deal today too.”

“Where were you so long?” asked Bent-Anat.  “My uncle Ani commanded that you should not leave the palace.”

“I shall be eighteen years old next month,” said the prince, “and need no tutor.”

“But your father—­” said Bent-Anat.

“My father”—­interrupted the boy, “he little knows the Regent.  But I shall write to him what I have today heard said by different people.  They were to have sworn allegiance to Ani at that very feast in the valley, and it is quite openly said that Ani is aiming at the throne, and intends to depose the king.  You are right, it is madness—­but there must be something behind it all.”

Nefert turned pale, and Bent-Anat asked for particulars.  The prince repeated all he had gathered, and added laughing:  “Ani depose my father!  It is as if I tried to snatch the star of Isis from the sky to light the lamps—­which are much wanted here.”

“It is more comfortable in the dark,” said Nefert.  “No, let us have lights,” said Bent-Anat.  “It is better to talk when we can see each other face to face.  I have no belief in the foolish talk of the people; but you are right—­we must bring it to my fathers knowledge.”

“I heard the wildest gossip in the City of the Dead,” said Rameri.

“You ventured over there?  How very wrong!”