"Thou dost overestimate thyself," she retorted. Catching up the fan and chaplet that her woman had let fall she made as though to run past him. But he put himself in her way, and with shining eyes, caught her in his arms. "There, there! my sweet. I shall do thee no hurt," he laughed, quieting her struggles with an iron embrace. "Thou art hurting me beyond any cure now," she panted wrathfully. "It is thy fault. Have I not said I am sated with submission? If thou wouldst unlock mine arms, kiss me and tell me thou wilt be my queen." "Let me go," she exclaimed, choking with emotion. "Better for thee to tell me 'yes'; thou wilt save thy father a lie." She looked at him speechless. "I have said. To-morrow he will tell me that thou hast promised to wed me--whether thou sayest it or not. Spare him the falsehood, Masanath, and me a heartache." "Wilt thou slander my father to me?" she demanded. "Art thou a knave as well as a tyrant?" "Nay, I have spoken truly. Sad indeed were thy fate, my Masanath, did the gods mate thee with a knave, having fathered thee with a villain. So I am come to know of a truth what is thy will." "And I can tell thee most truly. Sooner would I sit upon the peak of a pyramid all my life than upon a throne with thee; sooner would I be crowned with fire than wear the asp of a queen to thee. My father may wed me to thee, but I will never love thee, nor say it, nor pretend it. Thou wilt not win a wife if thou dost take a queen by violence. Release me!" "Thou dost rivet mine arms about thee." She stiffened herself and savagely submitted to her imprisonment. Rameses laughed and, bending her head back, kissed her repeatedly and with much tenderness. She struggled madly, but he held her fast. "This is but the beginning," he said in a low voice, "and I have won. The end shall be the same. I am a lovable lover, am I not, Masanath? Am I not good to look upon? Dost thou know a more princely prince, and is my father more of a king than I shall be? Where do I fail thee in thy little ideals? Am I harsh? Aye, but I am a king. Am I rough-spoken? Aye, because most of the world deserve it. Thou hast never felt the sting of my tongue, and never shalt thou unless thou breakest my heart. I have much to give thee; not any other monarch hath so much as I to give his queen. And yet I ask only thy love in return." This was earnest wooing, which contained nothing that she might flout. So she strained away from him and sulked. Again he laughed. "Khem and Athor and Besa have combed my heart and created a being of the desires they found therein! O, thou art mine, for the gods ordained it so." Again he kissed her, holding her in spite of her efforts to get away. "There! carry thy hate of me only to the edge of sleep and dream sweetly of me." He released her and continued down the hall.