“I hear a noise in the court,” said Nefert.  “The Regent is coming.”

Katuti turned again towards the garden.

A breathless slave rushed in, and announced that Bent-Anat, the daughter of the king, had dismounted at the gate, and was approaching the garden with the prince Rameri.

Nefert left her couch, and went with her mother to meet the exalted visitors.

As the mother and daughter bowed to kiss the robe of the princess, Bent-Anat signed them back from her.  “Keep farther from me,” she said; “the priests have not yet entirely absolved me from my uncleanness.”

“And in spite of them thou art clean in the sight of Ra!” exclaimed the boy who accompanied her, her brother of seventeen, who was brought up at the House of Seti, which however he was to leave in a few weeks—­and he kissed her.

“I shall complain to Ameni of this wild boy,” said Bent-Anat smiling.  “He would positively accompany me.  Your husband, Nefert, is his model, and I had no peace in the house, for we came to bring you good news.”

“From Mena?” asked the young wife, pressing her hand to her heart.

“As you say,” returned Bent-Anat.  “My father praises his ability, and writes that he, before all others, will have his choice at the dividing of the spoil.”

Nefert threw a triumphant glance at her mother, and Katuti drew a deep breath.

Bent-Anat stroked Nefert’s cheeks like those of a child.  Then she turned to Katuti, led her into the garden, and begged her to aid her, who had so early lost her mother, with her advice in a weighty matter.

“My father,” she continued, after a few introductory words, “informs me that the Regent Ani desires me for his wife, and advises me to reward the fidelity of the worthy man with my hand.  He advises it, you understand-he does not command.”

“And thou?” asked Katuti.

“And I,” replied Bent-Anat decidedly, “must refuse him.”

“Thou must!”

Bent-Anat made a sign of assent and went on: 

“It is quite clear to me.  I can do nothing else.”

“Then thou dost not need my counsel, since even thy father, I well know, will not be able to alter thy decision.”

“Not God even,” said Anat firmly.  “But you are Ani’s friend, and as I esteem him, I would save him from this humiliation.  Endeavor to persuade him to give up his suit.  I will meet him as though I knew nothing of his letter to my father.”

Katuti looked down reflectively.  Then she said—­“The Regent certainly likes very well to pass his hours of leisure with me gossiping or playing draughts, but I do not know that I should dare to speak to him of so grave a matter.”

“Marriage-projects are women’s affairs,” said Bent-Anat, smiling.

“But the marriage of a princess is a state event,” replied the widow.  “In this case it is true the uncle

   [Among the Orientals—­and even the Spaniards—­it was and is common
   to give the name of uncle to a parent’s cousin.]