His shame had preceded him on fleet wings. He hoped he might as
swiftly run his sentence down.
None knew him in the roadways and the towns did not expect him. The
pickets on the outer wall of Tanis halted him, but when they beheld his
face, their pikes fell and with hands on knees, they bade him pass.
The palace sentries started and gave him room.
He was running, sobbing, through the dark and capacious corridors of
the palace and no man had stayed him yet. Were they to make his shame
more poignant by pitying him and punishing him not at all? He flung
himself through the doors of the council chamber and halted.
The great hall was crowded and full of excitement. Meneptah had
summoned the court to the royal presence.
In his loft above the throng stood the king, purple with rage. The
queen, in her place at his side, was staying his outstretched hand.
Below at his right stood Rameses, the kingliest presence that ever
graced a royal sitting. At the left of Meneptah, was Har-hat,
complacent and serene.
Out in the center of a generous space stood Moses. The great Hebrew
was alone and isolated, but his personality was such that a throng
could not have obscured him.
In his massive physique was an insistent suggestion of immovability and
superhuman strength; in the shape of his imperial head, there was
illimitable capacity; in his face, the image of a nature commanding the
entire range of feeling, from the finest to the fiercest.
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