"Let me alone," replied she. The Greek seized her by the shoulder. "Wretch! Dost thou not understand that before sunrise they will imprison thee, and will strangle thee a couple of days later?" "I am sick." "Where are thy jewels?" "Under the bed." Lykon went to her bedchamber; with the light of a lamp he drew out a heavy casket, threw a mantle over Kama, and pulled her by the arm. "Make ready! Where are the doors through which he comes to thee--that lord of thine?" "Leave me!" The Greek bent to her, and whispered,-- "Aha! Dost think that I will leave thee here? I care as much for thee now as I do for a dog that has lost sense of smell. But thou must go with me. Let that lord of thine know that there is a man better than he. He stole a priestess from Astaroth, I take his mistress from the heir of Egypt." "I tell thee that I am sick." The Greek drew out a slender blade, and put the point of it to her throat. Kama trembled, and whispered,-- "I go." They passed through the secret door to the garden. From the direction of the palace came the noise of warriors kindling fires. Here and there among the trees were lights; from time to time some one in the service of the heir passed the pair. At the gate the guard stopped them,-- "Who are ye?" "Thebes," answered Lykon. Then they went out to the street unhindered, and vanished in the alleys of the foreign quarter. Two hours before daybreak drums and trumpets sounded through the city. Tutmosis was lying sunk in deep sleep, when Prince Rameses pulled his mantle, and called,-- "Rise, watchful leader. The regiments are marching!" Tutmosis sat up in bed and rubbed his drowsy eyes. "Ah, is it thou, lord?" asked he, yawning. "Hast thou slept?" "As never before," replied Rameses. "But I should like to sleep more." Both bathed, put on their jackets and light mail, then mounted horses, which were tearing away from the equerries. Soon the heir, with a small suite, left the city, and on the way passed slowly moving columns. The Nile had overflowed widely, and the prince wished to be present at the passage of fords and canals. At sunrise the last army chariot was far outside the city, and the worthy nomarch of Pi-Bast said to his servants,-- "I am going to sleep now, and woe to the man who rouses me before the hour of our feast in the evening! Even the divine sun rests when each day is past, while I have not lain down since the first day of Hator." Before he had finished praising his own watchfulness, a police officer entered, and begged for a special hearing in a case of immense importance. "Would that the earth had swallowed thee!" muttered the worthy nomarch. But still he commanded to summon the officer, and inquired with ill-humor,-- "Is it not possible to wait a few hours? The Nile will not run away, as it seems to me." "A terrible misfortune has happened," replied the officer. "The son of the erpatr is killed." "What? Who?" cried the nomarch. "The son of the Jewess Sarah."