_Aahmes_ (_rising_). She is the great Priestess Ranoutet, of the blood royal—the wisest of the devotees. She is so near the hearts of the gods that they will do all things at her behest, and Egypt has never known famine, plague, or defeat since she first served them; and when the war is over and the new dynasty established she will be queen. _Nouferou_ (_sadly_). She will be queen and you will be king. She can choose no other consort. _Aahmes._ No man may dare desire such a fate unless the gods decree it. _Nouferou_ (_walks across_). Ah, no! I was forgetting. Love is not love among the priests. I was forgetting the fierce laws of the gods, who stand between the lovers holding the sceptre of ritual, and at each cry of nature sternly denying! _Aahmes._ And yet they say that the divine love which is given to the Children of Wisdom, that their hearts may lie poised between the two infinities of life and death, is greater than the earthly love, for it is the servant of life and the lord of death. (_He sits on the end of the couch._) But tell me how you left your home and came unattended to the city. _Nouferou._ I was forbidden to leave the palace. My father punishes—punishes like the gods—and stands always denying me all joy in life. I was a rebel and ran out alone, evading my old nurse. I longed to see the soldiers and hear the clash of arms, and hear the war chant; for I am told, before a battle there is a wonderous dance no woman may see, when those about to die deliver up their souls to Maut, the Vulture-Mother and Avenger. _Aahmes._ Hush, these are mysteries of which none may speak. _Nouferou._ I burn for knowledge, for the freedom of a bird upon the wing. I am weary of the speech of the wise, who have not wisdom; who would tell me that Egyptian women must always be discreet and secret. I hear crying in me the blood of my mother, who was no Egyptian, but a wanderer. It spoke in her, and she listened to its wooing as to a lover; and she forsook my father, and, leaving me with him, she came back no more. _Aahmes._ Do you forget what fate awaited the wanderer? _Nouferou._ A short life my mother had. I, too, would live here for a little while, then go to join the shining spirits outside the walls of heaven. I do not desire old age and ugliness in Egypt, nor the great wisdom of the gods in heaven. To be always beautiful and young is enough. (_Aahmes rises, works round the back to R._)