“What did you hear?” I asked wrathfully, and next instant wished that I had bitten through my tongue before it shaped the words. “Much, much. Let me think. You spoke about the lady Merapi, and whether she would do well to bide at Memphis in the shadow of the Prince, or to return to Goshen into the shadow of a certain—I forget the name. Jabez, a well-instructed man, said he thought that she might be happier at Memphis, though perhaps her presence there would bring a great sorrow upon herself and—another.” Here again he looked at the child, which seemed to feel his glance, for it woke up and beat the air with its little hands. The nurse felt it also, although her head was turned away, for she started and then took shelter behind the bole of one of the palm-trees. Now Merapi said in a low and shaken voice: “I know what you mean, Magician, for since then I have seen my uncle Jabez.” “As I have also, several times, Lady, which may explain to you what Ana here thinks so wonderful, namely that I should have learned what they said together when he thought they were alone, which, as I have told him, no one can ever be, at least in Egypt, the land of listening gods——” “And spying sorcerers,” I exclaimed. “——And spying sorcerers,” he repeated after me, “and scribes who take notes, and learn them by heart, and priests with ears as large as asses, and leaves that whisper—and many other things.” “Cease your gibes, and say what you have to say,” said Merapi, in the same broken voice. He made no answer, but only looked at the tree behind which the nurse and child had vanished. “Oh! I know, I know,” she exclaimed in tones that were like a cry. “My child is threatened! You threaten my child because you hate me.” “Your pardon, Lady. It is true that evil threatens this royal babe, or so I understood from Jabez, who knows so much. But it is not I that threaten it, any more than I hate you, in whom I acknowledge a fellow of my craft, but one greater than myself that it is my duty to obey.” “Have done! Why do you torment me?” “Can the priests of the Moon-goddess torment Isis, Mother of Magic, with their prayers and offerings? And can I who would make a prayer and an offering——” “What prayer, and what offering?” “The prayer that you will suffer me to shelter in this house from the many dangers that threaten me at the hands of Pharaoh and the prophets of your people, and an offering of such help as I can give by my arts and knowledge against blacker dangers which threaten—another.” Here once more he gazed at the trunk of the tree beyond which I heard the infant wail. “If I consent, what then?” she asked, hoarsely.