a threatening glance on Pentaur--"a priest, who in the war of free-will
against law becomes a deserter, who forgets his duty and his oath--he
will not long stand beside thee to support thee, for he--even though
every God had blessed him with the richest gifts--he is damned. We drive
him from among us, we curse him, we--"

At these words Bent-Anat looked now at Ameni, trembling with excitement,
now at Pentaur standing opposite to her. Her face was red and white by
turns, as light and shade chase each other on the ground when at noon-day
a palm-grove is stirred by a storm.

The poet took a step towards her.

She felt that if he spoke it would be to defend all that she had done,
and to ruin himself. A deep sympathy, a nameless anguish seized her
soul, and before Pentaur could open his lips, she had sunk slowly down
before Ameni, saying in low tones:

"I have sinned and defiled myself; thou hast said it--as Pentaur said it
by the hut of the paraschites. Restore me to cleanness, Ameni, for I am
unclean."

Like a flame that is crushed out by a hand, so the fire in the high-
priest's eye was extinguished. Graciously, almost lovingly, he looked
down on the princess, blessed her and conducted her before the holy of
holies, there had clouds of incense wafted round her, anointed her with
the nine holy oils, and commanded her to return to the royal castle.

Yet, said he, her guilt was not expiated; she should shortly learn by
what prayers and exercises she might attain once more to perfect purity