But Hotep was a penetrative man, and more hidden things than his friend's ailment had been an open secret to his keen eye. He did not care to know which one of the butterflies was the fluttering object of Kenkenes' bounteous love, for Hotep knew that those high-born Memphian women, who were openly partial to the handsome young sculptor, loved him for his comeliness and his silken tongue alone. It would take a profounder soul than any they had displayed to understand and sympathize with the restive genius hidden under the smooth exterior they saw. Therefore, with some impatience, Hotep conceded that his friend was in love, and presumably throwing himself away. So the scribe purposed, even though the attempt were inevitably fruitless, to win Kenkenes out of his dream. One faint dawn he entered the temple to pray for his own cause at the shrine of the lovers' goddess. In the half-night of the vast interior, at the foot of the sumptuous pedestal of Athor, he distinguished another supplicant, kneeling. But there was a hopelessness in the droop of the bowed head and a tenseness in the interlaced fingers of the clasped hands, which proved that Athor's answer had not been propitious. Hotep knew at once who besought the goddess. Setting his offering of silver and crystal on the altar, the scribe departed with silent step. But without, he ground his teeth and execrated the giver of pain to Kenkenes. In mid-afternoon of the same day Hotep's chariot drew up at the portals of Mentu's house, and the scribe in his most splendid raiment was conducted to Kenkenes. The young sculptor was alone. "What was it, a palsy or the sun which kept thee at home this day?" was Hotep's greeting. "Nine is a mystic number and is fruitful of much gain. Eight times within a month have I come for thee. The ninth did supply thee. Blessed be the number." Kenkenes smiled. "But there are seven Hathors, and five days in the epact--and the Radiant Three. To me it seemeth there are many good numbers." Hotep plucked his sleeve. "Come, I will show thee the best of all--One, the One." Kenkenes arose. "Let me robe myself befittingly, then." "Not too effectively," the scribe cried after him. "I would not have thee blight my chances with the full blaze of thy beauty." When Kenkenes returned Hotep looked at him with another thought than had been uppermost in his mind since he had noted his friend's dejection. This time, he was impatient with Kenkenes. "And such a man as this will permit a woman to break his heart!"