Page:Ben-Hur a tale of the Christ.djvu/314

Rh haunted by the Erinnyes for cruelty to a lover; others, that she was stricken by some god envious of Orætes. Whatever the cause of her decline, the charms of the magicians availed not to restore her, and the prescript of the doctor was equally without virtue. Ne-ne-hofra was given over to die.

&quot;Orætes chose a crypt for her up in the tombs of the queens; and, calling the master sculptors and painters to Memphis, he set them to work upon designs more elaborate than any even in the great galleries of the dead kings.

&quot;'O thou beautiful as Athor herself, my queen!' said the king, whose hundred and thirteen years did not lessen his ardor as a lover, 'Tell me, I pray, the ailment of which, alas! thou art so certainly perishing before my eyes.'

&quot;'You will not love me any more if I tell you,' she said, in doubt and fear.

&quot;'Not love you! I will love you the more. I swear it, by the genii of Amente! by the eye of Osiris, I swear it! Speak!' he cried, passionate as a lover, authoritative as a king. &quot;'Hear, then,' she said. 'There is an anchorite, the oldest and holiest of his class, in a cave near Essouan. His name is Menopha. He was my teacher and guardian. Send for him, Orætes, and he will tell you that you seek to know; he will also help you find the cure for my affliction.'

&quot;Orætes arose rejoicing. He went away in spirit a hundred years younger than when he came.&quot;

&quot;'Speak!' said Orætes to Menopha, in the palace at Memphis.

&quot;And Menopha replied, 'Most mighty king, if you were young, I should not answer, because I am yet pleased with life; as it is, I will say the queen, like any other mortal, is paying the penalty of a crime.'

&quot;'A crime!' exclaimed Orætes, angrily.

&quot;Menopha bowed very low.

&quot;'Yes; to herself'.

&quot;'I am not in mood for riddles,' said the king.

&quot;'What I say is not a riddle, as you shall hear. Ne-ne-hofra grew up under my eyes, and confided every incident of her life to me; among others, that she loved the son of her father’s gardener, Barbec by name.' &quot;

&quot;Orætes’s frown, strangely enough, began to dissipate.

&quot;'With that love in her heart, king, she came to you; of that love she is dying.'

&quot;'Where is the gardener’s son now?' asked Orætes.

&quot;'In Essouan.'

&quot;The king went cut and gave two orders. To one oeris he said, 'Go to Essouan and bring hither a youth named Barbec. You will find him in the garden of the queen's father;' to another, 'Assemble workmen and cattle and tools, and construct for me in Lake Chemmis an island, which, though laden with a temple, a palace, and a garden,