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 be in the strange game he was playing. Was it revenge for his own wrongs, or merely the natural outburst of an evil mischief-making mind? I knew he hated his mother, but thought the game a dangerous one, for in this country passions run high, and a woman's love or hate is deadly and uncontrolled.

I could not tear myself away from my point of vantage; an unaccountable feeling or presentiment, which since then I have been so well able to explain, kept me rooted to the spot, with my face glued against the massive marble carving.

Maat-kha's face had become positively livid with rage; she was strong and muscular, and she tried with both her hands to smother the evil words in her son's mouth. But this half-human creature repeated, with a truly demoniacal chuckle:

"I tell thee I saw them both.… Dost think perchance he cares for thee, beyond thy throne and thy riches? Look at Neit-akrit and then at thyself. Is she not made for love? young, ardent and exquisitely beautiful. She hath consumed my soul with wild passion, mad, unreasoning love, and he … hast seen him to-day? He is dying of the same complaint which has sapped my manhood, made a weak coward of the Pharaoh, the descendant of Ammoun-ra.… Hast seen his burning eyes, his hollow cheeks? He is dying, I tell thee! he will die in thy arms one day … soon … die of love for Neit-akrit."

"Thou liest! thou liest! thou liest!" she shouted. "I forbid thee to speak, thou liest!"

"He loves her, I tell thee, and thou wilt wed him to-morrow; but he will hate thee, for his heart belongs to Neit-akrit. Ay! mother mine, thou hast stolen my throne from me, but at least, in exchange for that