Although at that time I knew nothing of the power of the god of Israel, I will say that I was filled with fear as one by one he counted, pausing at each ten. The scene was very strange. There by the steps stood the Prince against the background of the curtain, his arms folded and a little smile of wonder mixed with contempt upon his face, but not a sign of fear. On one side of him was I, who knew well that I should share his fate whatever it might be, and indeed desired no other; and on the other the priest Kohath, whose hands shook and whose eyes started from his head. In front of us old Jabez counted, watching the fierce-faced congregation that in a dead silence waited for the issue. The count went on. Thirty. Forty. Fifty—oh! it seemed an age. At length sixty fell from his lips. He waited a while and all watched the Prince, not doubting but that he would fall dead. But instead he turned to Kohath and asked quietly if this ordeal was now finished, as he desired to make an offering to the temple, which he had been invited to visit, and begone. “Our God has given his answer,” said Jabez. “Accept it, men of Israel. What this Prince did he did by chance, not of design.” They turned and went without a word, and after I had laid the offering, no mean one, in the appointed place, we followed them. “It would seem that yours is no gentle god,” said the Prince to Kohath, when at length we were outside the temple. “At least he is just, your Highness. Had it been otherwise, you who had violated his sanctuary, although by chance, would ere now be dead.” “Then you hold, Priest, that Jahveh has power to slay us when he is angry?” “Without a doubt, your Highness—as, if our Prophets speak truth, I think that Egypt will learn ere all be done,” he added grimly. Seti looked at him and answered: “It may be so, but all gods, or their priests, claim the power to torment and slay those who worship other gods. It is not only women who are jealous, Kohath, or so it seems. Yet I think that you do your god injustice, seeing that even if this strength is his, he proved more merciful than his worshippers who knew well that I only grasped the veil to save myself from falling. If ever I visit your temple again it shall be in the company of those who can match might against might, whether of the spirit or the sword. Farewell.” So we reached the chariot, near to which stood Jabez, he who had saved us. “Prince,” he whispered, glancing at the crowd who lingered not far away, silent and glowering, “I pray you leave this land swiftly for here your life is not safe. I know it was by chance, but you have defiled the sanctuary and seen that upon which eyes may not look save those of the highest priests, an offence no Israelite can forgive.” “And you, or your people, Jabez, would have defiled this sanctuary of my life, spilling my heart’s blood and _not_ by chance. Surely you are a strange folk who seek to make an enemy of one who has tried to be your friend.”