By this time, Rameses had raised her. He lifted the badge of princehood
from his forehead, shortened the fillet from which it hung, so that it
would fit her small head and set it on her brow.
The great palace shook with the acclaim of the courtiers. Organ-throated
trumpets were blown; the clang of crossed arms, and sound of beaten
shields arose from all parts of the king's house; all the ancients'
manifestations of joy were made,--and the pair that had brought it forth
looked upon each other.
Masanath was trembling, and filled with a great desire to cry out. All
this was manifest on her small, white face. The light had died in the
prince's eyes, the exultation was gone from his countenance. He knew
what thoughts were uppermost in the mind of Masanath, and the tyrant had
spoken truly to her long ago, when he said his heart might be hurt. His
brow contracted with an expression of actual pain and he turned with a
fierce movement as if to command the rejoicings to be still. But a
thought deterred him and taking Masanath's hand he led her down the hall
through the bending ranks of purple-wearing Egyptians to the great
portals of the hall. There, he gave her into the hands of a troop of
court-ladies, lithe as leopards and gorgeous as butterflies, who led her
with many sinuous obeisances to her apartments.
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