"
Kenkenes bowed and escaped.
In his room a few moments later, he lighted his lamp of scented oils
and contemplated the comforts about him. His conscience pointed a
condemning finger at him. Here was luxury to the point of uselessness
for himself; across the Nile was the desolate quarry-camp for his love.
In Memphis he had robed himself in fine linen and reveled, had eaten
with princes and slept sumptuously--in his strength and his manhood and
unearned idleness. And she, but a tender girl, had toiled for the
quarry-workers and fasted and now faced death in the hideous
extermination purposed for her race.
He ground his teeth and prayed for the dawn.
He forgot that he had come away from the Arabian hills because she
repelled him; he remembered his scruples concerning their social
inequality, only to revile himself; Hotep's caution was more than ever
a waste of words to him. He forgot everything except that he was here
in comfort, she, there in want and in peril, and he had not rescued her.
He did not sleep. He tossed and counted the hours.
"Sing for the Pharaoh!" he exclaimed, "aye, I will sing till the throat
of me cracks--not for the reward of his good will alone, but for
Rachel's liberty.
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