"By the holy Fire," laughed the King, "I feel my heart melting
already. Say, Shabaka, what do you know of this Amada? Is she married
or a maiden?"

Now I answered because I must, for after all that boat was not far
away, nor did I dare to lie.

"She is married, O King of kings, to the goddess Isis whom she loves
alone."

"A woman married to a woman, or rather to the Queen of women," he
answered laughing, "well, that matters little."

"Nay, O King, it matters much since she is under the protection of
Isis and inviolate."

"That remains to be seen, Shabaka. I think that I would dare the wrath
of every false goddess in heaven to win such a prize. Learned also,
you say, Shabaka."

"Aye, O King, full of learning to the finger tips, a prophetess also,
one in whom the divine fire burns like a lamp in a vase of alabaster,
one to whom visions come and who can read the future and the past."

"Still better," said the King. "One, then, who would be a fitting
consort for the King of kings, who wearies of fat, round-eyed,
sweetmeat-sucking fools whereof there are hundreds yonder," and he
pointed towards the House of Women. "Who is this maid's father?"