But without, he ground his teeth and execrated the giver of pain to
Kenkenes.
In mid-afternoon of the same day Hotep's chariot drew up at the portals
of Mentu's house, and the scribe in his most splendid raiment was
conducted to Kenkenes. The young sculptor was alone.
"What was it, a palsy or the sun which kept thee at home this day?" was
Hotep's greeting. "Nine is a mystic number and is fruitful of much
gain. Eight times within a month have I come for thee. The ninth did
supply thee. Blessed be the number."
Kenkenes smiled. "But there are seven Hathors, and five days in the
epact--and the Radiant Three. To me it seemeth there are many good
numbers."
Hotep plucked his sleeve.
"Come, I will show thee the best of all--One, the One."
Kenkenes arose. "Let me robe myself befittingly, then."
"Not too effectively," the scribe cried after him. "I would not have
thee blight my chances with the full blaze of thy beauty."
When Kenkenes returned Hotep looked at him with another thought than
had been uppermost in his mind since he had noted his friend's
dejection. This time, he was impatient with Kenkenes.
"And such a man as this will permit a woman to break his heart!"
Then was the young sculptor taken to the palace of the Pharaoh.
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