It was a strange, un-Egyptian
pallor, an opaque whiteness with dark shadows that belied the testimony
of vigor in his sinewy frame.
The old courtiers that were still attached to the court of Meneptah
watched with fascination the development of the heir's character. He
was twenty-two years old now and had proved that no alien nature had
been housed in the old Pharaoh's shape. If any pointed out the
prince's indolence as proving him unlike his grandsire the old
courtiers shook their heads and said: "He does not reign as yet and he
but saves his forces till the crown is his." So Egypt, stagnated at
the pinnacle of power by the accession of Meneptah, began to look
forward secretly to the reign of Rameses the Younger, with a hope that
was half terror.
To-night he stood in semi-dusk robed in festal attire, for somewhere a
rout awaited him. And of the groups of power and rank about him, none
seemed to fit that majestic council chamber so well as he. It was not
the robe of costly stuffs he wore, nor the trappings of jewels, which
if he moved never so slightly emitted a shower of frosty sparks--but a
peculiar emanation of magnetism that at once repelled and attracted,
and made him master over the monarch himself.
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