“Mistress!  Mistress!” cried the dwarf again, with growing agitation.  “What is the matter? shall I call thy daughter?”

Katuti made a sign with her hand, and cried feebly:  “The wretches! the reprobates!”

Her breath began to come quickly, the blood mounted to her cheeks and her flashing eyes; she trod upon the letter, and wept so loud and passionately, that the dwarf, who had never before seen tears in her eyes, raised himself timidly, and said in mild reproach:  “Katuti!”

She laughed bitterly, and said with a trembling voice: 

“Why do you call my name so loud! it is disgraced and degraded.  How the nobles and the ladies will rejoice!  Now envy can point at us with spiteful joy—­and a minute ago I was praising this day!  They say one should exhibit one’s happiness in the streets, and conceal one’s misery; on the contrary, on the contrary!  Even the Gods should not know of one’s hopes and joys, for they too are envious and spiteful!”

Again she leaned her head against the palm-tree.  “Thou speakest of shame, and not of death,” said Nemu, “and I learned from thee that one should give nothing up for lost excepting the dead.”

These words had a powerful effect on the agitated woman.  Quickly and vehemently she turned upon the dwarf saying.

“You are clever, and faithful too, so listen! but if you were Amon himself there is nothing to be done—­”

“We must try,” said Nemu, and his sharp eyes met those of his mistress.

“Speak,” he said, “and trust me.  Perhaps I can be of no use; but that I can be silent thou knowest.”

“Before long the children in the streets will talk of what this tells me,” said Katuti, laughing with bitterness, “only Nefert must know nothing of what has happened—­nothing, mind; what is that? the Regent coming! quick, fly; tell him I am suddenly taken ill, very ill; I cannot see him, not now!  No one is to be admitted—­no one, do you hear?”

The dwarf went.

When he came back after he had fulfilled his errand, he found his mistress still in a fever of excitement.

“Listen,” she said; “first the smaller matter, then the frightful, the unspeakable.  Rameses loads Mena with marks of his favor.  It came to a division of the spoils of war for the year; a great heap of treasure lay ready for each of his followers, and the charioteer had to choose before all the others.”

“Well?” said the dwarf.

“Well!” echoed Katuti.  “Well! how did the worthy householder care for his belongings at home, how did he seek to relieve his indebted estate?  It is disgraceful, hideous!  He passed by the silver, the gold, the jewels, with a laugh; and took the captive daughter of the Danaid princes, and led her into his tent.”

“Shameful!” muttered the dwarf.

“Poor, poor Nefert!” cried Katuti, covering her face with her hands.

“And what more?” asked Nemu hastily.