"Because they hope to get us for nothing, my dear, and what is more,
if I can manage it one of them shall, for I am tired of this life. Have
your fling while you can, I say. Who knows at which corner Osiris, Lord
of Death, is waiting."

"Hush!" whispered Merytra, "there is that knave of an astrologer, and he
looks cross, too."

Then, hand in hand, they went to this lean and learned man and humbly
bowed themselves before him.

"Master of the Stars," said Merytra, "we have a message for you. No, do
not look at my cheek, please, the marks are not magical, only those of
the divine fingers of the glorious hand of the most exalted Prince Abi,
son of the Pharaoh happily ruling in Osiris, etc., etc., etc., of the
right, royal blood of Egypt--that is on one side, and on the other of
a divine lady whom Khem the Spirit, or Ptah the Creator, thought fit to
dip in a vat of black dye."

"Hem!" said Kaku glancing nervously over his shoulder. Then, seeing that
there was no one near, he added, "you had better be careful what you
say, my dear. The royal Abi does not like to hear the colour of his late
mother defined so closely. But why did he slap your face?"

She told him.

"Well," he answered, "if I had been in his place I would rather have
kissed it, for it is pretty, decidedly pretty," and this learned man
forgot himself so far as to wink at Merytra.