Up to this moment the Regent had kept his eyes cast down. Now he raised them, smiling, as if he would fain enjoy Ameni’s satisfaction, and asked: “What dost thou say to this project?” “I say,” returned Ameni, and his voice, usually so stern, took a tone of amusement, “I say that Rameses seems to think that the blood of thy cousin and of his mother, which gives him his right to the throne, is incapable of pollution.” “It is the blood of the Sun-god!” “Which runs but half pure in his veins, but wholly pure in thine.” The Regent made a deprecatory gesture, and said softly, with a smile which resembled that of a dead man: “We are not alone.” “No one is here,” said Ameni, “who can hear us; and what I say is known to every child.” “But if it came to the king’s ears--” whispered Ani, “he--” “He would perceive how unwise it is to derogate from the ancient rights of those on whom it is incumbent to prove the purity of blood of the sovereign of this land. However, Rameses sits on the throne; may life bloom for him, with health and strength!”--[A formula which even in private letters constantly follows the name of the Pharaoh.] The Regent bowed, and then asked: “Do you propose to obey the demand of the Pharaoh without delay?” “He is the king. Our council, which will meet in a few days, can only determine how, and not whether we shall fulfil his command.” “You will retard the departure of the serfs, and Rameses requires them at once. The bloody labor of the war demands new tools.” “And the peace will perhaps demand a new master, who understands how to employ the sons of the land to its greatest advantage--a genuine son of Ra.” The Regent stood opposite the high-priest, motionless as an image cast in bronze, and remained silent; but Ameni lowered his staff before him as before a god, and then went into the fore part of the hall. When Ani followed him, a soft smile played as usual upon his countenance, and full of dignity he took his seat on the throne. “Art thou at an end of thy communications?” he asked the high-priest. “It remains for me to inform you all,” replied Ameni with a louder voice, to be heard by all the assembled dignitaries, “that the princess Bent-Anat yesterday morning committed a heavy sin, and that in all the temples in the land the Gods shall be entreated with offerings to take her uncleanness from her.” Again a shadow passed over the smile on the Regent’s countenance. He looked meditatively on the ground, and then said: “To-morrow I will visit the House of Seti; till then I beg that this affair may be left to rest.” Ameni bowed, and the Regent left the hall to withdraw to a wing of the king’s palace, in which he dwelt. On his writing-table lay sealed papers. He knew that they contained important news for him; but he loved to do violence to his curiosity, to test his resolution, and like an epicure to reserve the best dish till the last.