“She says she will not marry me,” went on Saptah, “me who from childhood have been a slave to her and to no other woman.” “Not by my wish, Saptah. Indeed, I pray you to go and be a slave to any woman whom you will,” exclaimed Userti. “But I say,” continued Saptah, “that one day she shall marry me, for the Prince Seti will not live for ever.” “How do you know that, Cousin?” asked Seti. “The High-priest here will tell you a different story.” Now certain of those present turned their heads away to hide the smile upon their faces. Yet on this day some god spoke with Saptah’s voice making him a prophet, since in a year to come she did marry him, in order that she might stay upon the throne at a time of trouble when Egypt would not suffer that a woman should have sole rule over the land. But Pharaoh did not smile like the courtiers; indeed he grew angry. “Peace, Saptah!” he said. “Who are you that wrangle before me, talking of the death of kings and saying that you will wed the Royal princess? One more such word and you shall be driven into banishment. Hearken now. Almost am I minded to declare my daughter, the Royal Princess, sole heiress to the throne, seeing that in her there is more strength and wisdom than in any other of our House.” “If such be Pharaoh’s will, let Pharaoh’s will be done,” said Seti most humbly. “Well I know my own unworthiness to fill so high a station, and by all the gods I swear that my beloved sister will find no more faithful subject than myself.” “You mean, Seti,” interrupted Userti, “that rather than marry me you would abandon your right to the double crown. Truly I am honoured. Seti, whether you reign or I, I will not marry you.” “What words are these I hear?” cried Meneptah. “Is there indeed one in this land of Egypt who dares to say that Pharaoh’s decree shall be disobeyed? Write it down, Scribes, and you, O Officers, let it be proclaimed from Thebes to the sea, that on the third day from now at the hour of noon in the temple of Hathor in this city, the Prince, the Royal Heir, Seti Meneptah, Beloved of Ra, will wed the Royal Princess of Egypt, Lily of Love, Beloved of Hathor, Userti, Daughter of me, the god.” “Life! Blood! Strength!” called all the Court. Then, guided by some high officer, the Prince Seti was led before the throne and the Princess Userti was set beside him, or rather facing him. According to the ancient custom a great gold cup was brought and filled with red wine, to me it looked like blood. Userti took the cup and, kneeling, gave it to the Prince, who drank and gave it back to her that she might also drink in solemn token of their betrothal. Is not the scene graven on the broad bracelets of gold which in after days Seti wore when he sat upon the throne, those same bracelets that at a future time I with my own hands clasped about the wrists of dead Userti?