After the chief had gone Mefres summoned a number of priests, and whispered something into the ears of the eldest. The priests surrounded the Greek and conducted him out of the chamber. Lykon made no resistance. "I think," said Sem, "that this man should be brought before the court as a murderer." "Never!" cried Mefres, with decision. "On this man weighs an incomparably greater crime, he is like the heir to the throne." "And what wilt thou do with him, worthiness?" "I will reserve him for the supreme council," said Mefres. "When the heir to the throne visits pagan temples and steals from them women, when the country is threatened with danger of war, and the power of the priests with rebellion, Lykon may be of service." On the following midday the high priest Sem, the nomarch, and the chief of police went to Sarah's prison. The unfortunate woman had not eaten for a number of days, and was so weak that she did not rise from the bench even in presence of so many dignitaries. "Sarah," said the nomarch, whom she had known before, "we bring thee good news." "News," repeated she with a pathetic voice. "My son is not living, that is the news; my breast is full of nourishment, but my heart is full of sadness." "Sarah," said the nomarch, "thou art free. Thou didst not kill thy child." Her seemingly dead features revived. She sprang from the bench, and cried,-- "I--I killed him--only I." "Consider, Sarah, a man killed thy son, a Greek, named Lykon, the lover of the Phœnician Kama." "What dost thou say?" whispered she, seizing the nomarch's hands. "Oh, that Phœnician woman! I knew that she would ruin us. But the Greek? I know no Greek. How could my son offend any man?" "I know not," continued the nomarch. "That Greek is no longer alive. But that man was so like Prince Rameses that when he entered thy chamber thou didst think him our lord. And thou hast preferred to accuse thy own self rather than our lord, and thine." "Then that was not Rameses?" cried she, seizing her head. "And I, wretched woman, let a strange man take my son from his cradle. Ha! ha! ha!" Then she laughed more and more. On a sudden, as if her legs had been cut from under her, she fell to the floor, her hands hopped a couple of times, and she died in hysteric laughter. But on her face remained an expression of sorrow which even death could not drive from it. CHAPTER XLII The western boundary of Egypt for a distance of more than a hundred geographic miles is composed of a wall of naked limestone hills about two hundred metres high, intersected by ravines. They run parallel to the Nile, from which they are sometimes five miles distant, sometimes one kilometre. Whoso should clamber up one of these hills and turn his face northward would see one of the strangest sights possible. He would have on his right hand the narrow but green plain cut lengthwise by the Nile; on his left he would see an endless yellow open region, varied by spots, white or brick colored.