"Nay, but hear me, my Lady," the serving-man protested, his distress evident in his voice. "I moved away and turned my back, for I knew they had no need of me. Once, twice, I looked and still they talked together. But, alas! the third time I looked, it was because I heard sounds of combat, and I saw that the son of Mentu and several men were fighting. One, whom by his fat figure I took to be Unas, was pursuing the Israelite. I would have returned to help her, but the dreadful night overtook me before I could reach her--and as thou knowest,--none moved thereafter. "When the darkness lifted, I was off the wharves at On, where my boat had drifted. I halted only long enough to feed, for I was famished, and with all haste I returned to the Marsh. None was there. I went to the house in Memphis, but it was dark and closed. Next I visited the home of Mentu and asked if Rachel were there, but the old housekeeper had never heard of such a maiden. But when I asked if the young master had returned, she asked me where I had been that I had not heard he was dead. And having said, she shut the door in my face. I think he was within, and she would not answer me 'aye' or 'nay,' but I know that she told the truth concerning the Israelite." Masanath, who had stood, the picture of dismay and apprehension during the last part of the recital, seized his arm. "Hast thou had an eye to the master?" she demanded in a fierce whisper. "Aye," he answered quickly. "I have followed him like a shadow, and this I know. Nak and Hebset were here when I came, but they went that same night, each in a different direction, to search further for her. They returned to-night, but I know not whether they brought one with them." Masanath clasped her hands and thought for a moment, a mental struggle evidenced on her little face by the rapid fluctuations of color. "Get thee down to the kitchens, Pepi," she said presently, "and if Nari hath come, send her up to me. Give thyself comfort and remain in the palace. It may be that I shall need thee." She surveyed herself with a swift glance in a plate of polished silver which was her mirror, and then, darting out of her door, ran down the corridor as though she would outstrip repentance before it overtook her. The flight was not long, but she had lost her composure before she started. Outside her doors, she trembled as if unprotected. Soldiers of the royal guard paced along the hall before her chambers. The lamps that burned there were of gold; the drapings were of purple wrought with the royal symbols; the asp supported the censers; the head of Athor surmounted the columns. She was a dweller of the royal house. Far, far away from her were the unimperial quarters in which, once, she would have lived. There was her father--there was Hotep-- She came upon him whom she sought. He was on the point of entering his apartments. He paused with his hands on the curtains and waited for her.