feat; and yet the men you killed were only unarmed and pious citizens,
who were roused to indignation by a gross and shameless outrage. I
cannot conceive whence the warrior-spirit should have fallen on a
gardener's son--and a minister of the Gods."

"It is true," answered Pentaur, "when the crowd rushed upon me, and I
drove them back, putting out all my strength, I felt something of the
warlike rage of the soldier, who repulses the pressing foe from the
standard committed to his charge. It was sinful in a priest, no doubt,
and I will repent of it--but I felt it."

"You felt it--and you will repent of it, well and good," replied Ameni.
"But you have not given a true account of all that happened. Why have
you concealed that Bent-Anat--Rameses' daughter--was mixed up in the
fray, and that she saved you by announcing her name to the people, and
commanding them to leave you alone? When you gave her the lie before all
the people, was it because you did not believe that it was Bent-Anat?
Now, you who stand so firmly on so high a platform--now you standard-
bearer of the truth answer me."

Pentaur had turned pale at his master's words, and said, as he looked at
the Regent:

"We are not alone."

"Truth is one!" said Ameni coolly. "What ycu can reveal to me, can also
be heard by this noble lord, the Regent of the king himself. Did you
recognize Bent-Anat, or not?"

"The lady who rescued me was like her, and yet unlike," answered the