proportion as those feelings had to be kept to herself which she longed
to escape from in work. Uarda knew the origin of her mistress's deep
grief, and revered her for it, as if it were something sacred. Often she
would speak of Pentaur and of his father, and always in such a manner
that the princess could not guess that she knew of their love.

When the prisoners were passing Bent-Anat's tent, she was sitting within
with Nefert, and talking, as had become habitual in the hours of dusk, of
her father, of Mena, Rameri, and Pentaur.

"He is still alive," asserted Nefert. "My mother, you see, says that no
one knows with certainty what became of him. If he escaped, he beyond a
doubt tried to reach the king's camp, and when we get there you will find
him with your father."

The princess looked sadly at the ground. Nefert looked affectionately at
her, and asked:

"Are you thinking of the difference in rank which parts you from the man
you have chosen?"

"The man to whom I offer my hand, I put in the rank of a prince," said
Bent-Anat. "But if I could set Pentaur on a throne, as master of the
world, he would still be greater and better than I."

"But your father?" asked Nefert doubtfully.

"He is my friend, he will listen to me and understand me. He shall know
everything when I see him; I know his noble and loving heart."