Ta-meri gathered up the stakes and Nechutes, collecting the dice, went to find her a seat. But while he was gone, she wandered over to Kenkenes and leaned on the back of his chair. "Let me give thee a truth that seemeth to deny itself in the expression," Io said, turning so that she faced the young artist. "Say on," he replied, bending over her. "The more indifferent the teacher in this game of love, the sooner you learn," said Io. Kenkenes took the tiny hand extended toward him in emphasis and kissed it. "Sorry truth!" he said tenderly. As he leaned back in his chair he became conscious of Ta-meri's presence and turned his head toward her. Her face was so near to him that he felt the glow from her warm cheek. His gaze met hers and, for a moment, dwelt. All the attraction of her gorgeous habiliments, her warm assurance and her inceptive tenderness detached themselves from the general fusion and became distinct. Her beauty, her fervor, her audacity, were not unusually pronounced on this occasion, but the spell for Kenkenes was broken and the inner working's were open to him. Different indeed was the picture that rose before his mind--a picture of a fair face, wondrously and spiritually beautiful; of the quick blush and sweet dignity and unapproachable womanhood. His eyes fell and for a moment his lids were unsteady, but the color surged back into his cheeks and his lips tightened. He took Io's hands, which were clasped across his knee, and rising, gave the chair to Ta-meri. He found a taboret for himself, and as he put it down at her feet, he saw Nechutes fling himself into a chair and scowl blackly at the nomarch's daughter. Kenkenes sighed and interested himself in the babble that went on about him. The first word he distinguished was the name of Har-hat, pronounced in clear tones. Menes, who sat next to Kenkenes, put out his foot and trod on the speaker's toes. The man was Siptah. "Choke before thou utterest that name again," the captain said in a whisper, "else thou wilt have Rameses abusing Har-hat before his daughter." "What matters it to me, his temper or her hurt?" Siptah snarled. "Churl!" responded Menes, amiably. "What is amiss between the heir and the fan-bearer?" Kenkenes asked. "Everything! Rameses fairly suffocates in the presence of the new adviser. The Pharaoh is sadly torn between the twain. He worships Rameses and, body of Osiris! how he loves Har-hat! But sometime the council chamber with the trio therein will fall--the walls outward, the roof, up--mark me!" Again, clear and with offensive emphasis, Siptah's voice was heard disputing, in the general babble. "Magnify the cowardice of the Rebu if you will, but it was Har-hat who made them afraid," he was saying.