Katuti stood behind her, startled, trembling, and not knowing what to
say. Was this her gentle, dreamy daughter? Had ever a daughter dared to
speak thus to her mother? But was she right or was Nefert? This
question was the pressing one; she knelt down by the side of the young
wife, put her arm round her, drew her head against her bosom, and
whispered pitifully:

"You cruel, hard-hearted child; forgive your poor, miserable mother, and
do not make the measure of her wretchedness overflow."

Then Nefert rose, kissed her mother's hand, and went silently into her
own room.

Katuti remained alone; she felt as if a dead hand held her heart in its
icy grasp, and she muttered to herself:

"Ani is right--nothing turns to good excepting that from which we expect
the worst."

She held her hand to her head, as if she had heard something too strange
to be believed. Her heart went after her daughter, but instead of
sympathizing with her she collected all her courage, and deliberately
recalled all the reproaches that Nefert had heaped upon her. She did not
spare herself a single word, and finally she murmured to herself: "She
can spoil every thing. For Mena's sake she will sacrifice me and the
whole world; Mena and Rameses are one, and if she discovers what we are
plotting she will betray us without a moment's hesitation. Hitherto all
has gone on without her seeing it, but to-day something has been unsealed
in her--an eye, a tongue, an ear, which have hitherto been closed. She