"Did I not warn thee from the first?"
Kenkenes raised his head.
"Can you avoid a knave if he hath designs on you?" he asked. "Have I
erred in crossing his will? Have I sinned in loving and protecting her
whom I love?"
Mentu's hands fell down at his sides. The simple questions had
silenced him. His son was blameless now that he had expiated his
offenses against the law, and from the moral standpoint his persistence
in his claim on Rachel was just--praiseworthy.
"Nay," he said sullenly, "but since thou didst love the girl, how came
it that thou didst not wed her long ago and save her this shame and
danger?"
He saw the face of his son grow paler.
"The bar of faith lay between us," Kenkenes answered. "I was an
idolater, she a worshiper of the One God. She would not wed with me,
therefore."
The murket looked at his son, stupefied with amazement.
"Thou--thou--" he said at last, his words coming slowly by reason of
his emotions. "The Israelite rejected thee!"
Kenkenes bent his head in assent.
"Thou! A prince among men--a nobleman, a genius--a man whom all
women--Kenkenes! by Horus, I am amazed! And thou didst endure it, and
continue to love and serve and suffer for her! Where is thy pride?"
Kenkenes stopped him with a motion of his hand.
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