I wiped the cold damp from my brow and was about to flee away, discovering myself with as few words as might be, when, looking up, I saw standing behind Merapi the figure of a man, who was watching her replace the ornament in her robe. While I hesitated a moment the man spoke and I knew the voice for that of Seti. Then again I thought of flight, but being somewhat timid by nature, feared to show myself until it was too late, thinking that afterward the Prince would make me the target of his wit. So I sat close and still, hearing and seeing all despite myself. “What gem is that, Lady, which you admire and cherish so tenderly?” asked Seti in his slow voice that so often hid a hint of laughter. She uttered a little scream and springing up, saw him. “Oh! my lord,” she exclaimed, “pardon your servant. I was sitting here in the cool, as you gave me leave to do, and the moon was so bright—that—I wished to see if by it I could read the writing on this scarab.” Never before, thought I to myself, did I know one who read with her lips, though it is true that first she used her eyes. “And could you, Lady? Will you suffer me to try?” Very slowly and colouring, so that even the moonlight showed her blushes, she withdrew the ornament again and held it towards him. “Surely this is familiar to me? Have I not seen it before?” he asked. “Perhaps. I wore it that night in the temple, your Highness.” “You must not name me Highness, Lady. I have no longer any rank in Egypt.” “I know—because of—my people. Oh! it was noble.” “But about the scarabæus——” he broke in, with a wave of his hand. “Surely it is the same with which the bandage was made fast upon your hurt—oh! years ago?” “Yes, it is the same,” she answered, looking down. “I thought it. And when I gave it to you, I said some words that seemed to me well spoken at the time. What were they? I cannot remember. Have you also forgotten?” “Yes—I mean—no. You said that now I had all Egypt beneath my foot, speaking of the royal cartouche upon the scarab.” “Ah! I recall. How true, and yet how false the jest, or prophecy.” “How can anything be both true and false, Prince?” “That I could prove to you very easily, but it would take an hour or more, so it shall be for another time. This scarab is a poor thing, give it back to me and you shall have a better. Or would you choose this signet? As I am no longer Prince of Egypt it is useless to me.” “Keep the scarab, Prince. It is your own. But I will not take the ring because it is——” “——useless to me, and you would not have that which is without value to the giver. Oh! I string words ill, but they were not what I meant.” “No, Prince, because your royal ring is too large for one so small.” “How can you tell until you have tried? Also that is a fault which might perhaps be mended.” Then he laughed, and she laughed also, but as yet she did not take the ring.