Once again, Hotep flung himself on his couch
and wrestled with his spirit.
At the end of the hour, he went once again to Rameses. He was calm and
composed, but he made no apology for his abrupt departure, when last he
was there. Perhaps, however, he gained in the respect of Rameses by
that lapse. The blunt prince was more patient with the sincere than
with the diplomatic.
"Thou hast said," the prince began immediately, "that Har-hat hath
imprisoned Kenkenes till what time he shall divulge the hiding-place of
the Israelite?"
Hotep bowed.
"The fan-bearer charges him with slave-stealing?"
"And sacrilege," the scribe added. The prince opened his eyes. "Aye,
Kenkenes carried his beauty-love into blasphemy. He executed a statue
of Athor in defiance of the sculptor's ritual. For this also, Har-hat
holds a heavy hand over him."
"A murrain on the lawless dreamer!" Rameses muttered. "Is there
anything more?"
Hotep shook his head.
"He deserves his ill-luck. Mark me, now. He will not go mad with a
year's imprisonment, and he will profit by it. Furthermore, he can not
be persuaded into betraying the Israelite, if he knows how long and how
much he will have to endure. Once sentenced, Har-hat can add nothing
more thereto.
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