"I will take affliction to none other.
Already have I undone two of the best of Egypt. I will carry the
distress no further."
After a silence he began again.
"How far wilt thou trust in me, Rachel?"
She raised her face and looked at him with serious eyes.
"In all things needful which thou wilt require of me."
"And thou canst sleep this night in an open boat?"
She nodded.
"To-morrow, then," he continued, taking her hand, "we shall reach
Nehapehu, where I can hide thee with some of the peasantry on my
father's lands. And there thou canst abide until I go to Tape and
return.
"Thou must know," he continued, explaining, "the Athor of the hills is
not my first sacrilege. Once I committed a worse. My father was the
royal sculptor to Rameses and is now Meneptah's murket." Rachel
glanced at him shyly and sought to withdraw her hand, for she
recognized the loftiness of the title. But he retained his clasp. "He
is a mighty genius. He planned and executed Ipsambul. For that, which
is the greatest monument to Rameses, the Incomparable Pharaoh loved
him, and while the king lived my father was overwhelmed with his
favors. Nor did the royal sculptor's good fortune wane, as is the
common fate of favorites, for the great king planned that my father's
house should be honored even after his death though the dynasties
change.
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