still pronounces Bent-Anat unclean. Young Rameri has been doing wrong and Ameni, who has some other great scheme in his mind, has forbidden him the temple of Seti; that will work on the crowd! You know how things are going on in Syria: Rameses has suffered much at the hands of the Cheta and their allies; whole legions are weary of eternally lying in the field, and if things came to extremities would join us; but, perhaps, especially if Paaker acquits himself well, we may be victorious without fighting. Above all things now we must act rapidly.” “I no longer recognize the timid, cautious lover of delay!” exclaimed Katuti. “Because now prudent hesitation would be want of prudence,” said Ani. “And if the king should get timely information as to what is happening here?” said Katuti. “I said so!” exclaimed Ani; “we are exchanging parts.” “You are mistaken,” said Katuti. “I also am for pressing forwards; but I would remind you of a necessary precaution. No letters but yours must reach the camp for the next few weeks.” “Once more you and the priests are of one mind,” said Ani laughing; “for Ameni gave me the same counsel. Whatever letters are sent across the frontier between Pelusium and the Red Sea will be detained. Only my letters--in which I complain of the piratical sons of the desert who fall upon the messengers--will reach the king.” “That is wise,” said the widow; “let the seaports of the Red Sea be watched too, and the public writers. When you are king, you can distinguish those who are affected for or against you.” Ani shook his head and replied: “That would put me in a difficult position; for it I were to punish those who are now faithful to their king, and exalt the others, I should have to govern with unfaithful servants, and turn away the faithful ones. You need not color, my kind friend, for we are kin, and my concerns are yours.” Katuti took the hand he offered her and said: “It is so. And I ask no further reward than to see my father’s house once more in the enjoyment of its rights.” “Perhaps we shall achieve it,” said Ani; “but in a short time if--if--Reflect, Katuti; try to find out, ask your daughter to help you to the utmost. Who is it that she--you know whom I mean--Who is it that Bent-Anat loves?” The widow started, for Ani had spoken the last words with a vehemence very foreign to his usual courtliness, but soon she smiled and repeated to the Regent the names of the few young nobles who had not followed the king, and remained in Thebes. “Can it be Chamus?” at last she said, “he is at the camp, it is true, but nevertheless--” At this instant Nemu, who had not lost a word of the conversation, came in as if straight from the garden and said: “Pardon me, my lady; but I have heard a strange thing.” “Speak,” said Katuti. “The high and mighty princess Bent-Anat, the daughter of Rameses, is said to have an open love-affair with a young priest of the House of Seti.”