“Wouldst tempt me to fresh sin, woman? And dost thou think, Charmion, that in some hovel where I must hide, I could bear, day by day, to look upon thy fair face, and seeing, remember that those lips betrayed me? Not thus easily shalt thou atone! This I know even now: many and heavy shall be thy lonely days of penance! Perchance that hour of vengeance yet may come, and perchance thou shalt live to play thy part in it. Thou must still abide in the Court of Cleopatra; and, while thou art there, if I yet live, I will from time to time find means to give thee tidings. Perhaps a day may dawn when once more I shall need thy service. Now, swear that, in this event, thou wilt not fail me a second time.” “I swear, Harmachis!--I swear! May everlasting torments, too hideous to be dreamed--more hideous, even, by far, than those that wring me now--be my portion if I fail thee in one jot or tittle--ay, though I wait a lifetime for thy word!” “It is well; see that thou keep the oath--not twice may we betray. I go to work out my fate; abide thou to work out thine. Perchance our divers threads will once more mingle ere the web be spun. Charmion, who unasked didst love me--and who, prompted by that gentle love of thine, didst betray and ruin me--fare thee well!” She gazed wildly upon my face--she stretched out her arms as though to clasp me; then, in the agony of her despair, she cast herself at length and grovelled upon the ground. I took up the sack of clothing and the staff and gained the door, and, as I passed it, I threw one last glance upon her. There she lay, with arms outstretched--more white than her white robes--her dark hair streaming about her, and her fair brows hidden in the dust. And thus I left her, nor did I again set my eyes upon her till nine long years had come and gone. [Here ends the second and largest roll of papyrus.] BOOK III--THE VENGEANCE OF HARMACHIS CHAPTER I OF THE ESCAPE OF HARMACHIS FROM TARSUS; OF HIS BEING CAST FORTH AS AN OFFERING TO THE GODS OF THE SEA; OF HIS SOJOURN IN THE ISLE OF CYPRUS; OF HIS RETURN TO ABOUTHIS; AND OF THE DEATH OF AMENEMHAT I made my way down the stair in safety, and presently stood in the courtyard of that great house. It was but an hour from dawn, and none were stirring. The last reveller had drunk his fill, the dancing-girls had ceased their dancing, and silence lay upon the city. I drew near the gate, and was challenged by an officer who stood on guard, wrapped in a heavy cloak. “Who passes,” said the voice of Brennus. “A merchant, may it please you, Sir, who, having brought gifts from Alexandria to a lady of the Queen’s household, and, having been entertained of the lady, now departs to his galley,” I answered in a feigned voice. “Umph!” he growled. “The ladies of the Queen’s household keep their guests late. Well; it is a time of festival. The pass-word, Sir Shopkeeper? Without the pass-word you must needs return and crave the lady’s further hospitality.”