Deep scarlet flushed the maiden’s cheeks, there was a rushing sound in her ears as of a stormy sea surging close beside her, and her bosom rose and fell in passionate emotion.  The kingly blood in her veins boiled wildly; she felt that an unworthy part had been assigned to her in a carefully-premeditated scene; she forgot her resolution to accuse herself of uncleanness, and already her lips were parted in vehement protest against the priestly assumption that so deeply stirred her to rebellion, when Ameni, who placed himself directly in front of the Princess, raised his eyes, and turned them full upon her with all the depths of their indwelling earnestness.

The words died away, and Bent-Anat stood silent, but she endured the gaze, and returned it proudly and defiantly.

The blue veins started in Ameni’s forehead; yet he repressed the resentment which was gathering like thunder clouds in his soul, and said, with a voice that gradually deviated more and more from its usual moderation: 

“For the second time the Gods demand through me, their representative:  Hast thou entered this holy place in order that the Celestials may purge thee of the defilement that stains thy body and soul?”

“My father will communicate the answer to thee,” replied Bent-Anat shortly and proudly.

“Not to me,” returned Ameni, “but to the Gods, in whose name I now command thee to quit this sanctuary, which is defiled by thy presence.”

Bent-Anat’s whole form quivered.  “I will go,” she said with sullen dignity.

She turned to recross the gateway of the Pylon.  At the first step her glance met the eye of the poet.  As one to whom it is vouchsafed to stand and gaze at some great prodigy, so Pentaur had stood opposite the royal maiden, uneasy and yet fascinated, agitated, yet with secretly uplifted soul.  Her deed seemed to him of boundless audacity, and yet one suited to her true and noble nature.  By her side, Ameni, his revered and admired master, sank into insignificance; and when she turned to leave the temple, his hand was raised indeed to hold her back, but as his glance met hers, his hand refused its office, and sought instead to still the throbbing of his overflowing heart.

The experienced priest, meanwhile, read the features of these two guileless beings like an open book.  A quickly-formed tie, he felt, linked their souls, and the look which he saw them exchange startled him.  The rebellious princess had glanced at the poet as though claiming approbation for her triumph, and Pentaur’s eyes had responded to the appeal.

One instant Ameni paused.  Then he cried:  “Bent-Anat!”

The princess turned to the priest, and looked at him gravely and enquiringly.

Ameni took a step forward, and stood between her and the poet.