In a few minutes, Pepi stood before her.
The taciturn servant was visibly frightened.
"Pepi!" she cried. "What brings thee here?"
"I have lost the Israelite," he faltered.
"Thou hast lost Rachel!"
"Hear me, my Lady, I pray thee. Thou knowest we were to stop at the
Marsh of the Discontented Soul to leave a writing on the tomb for the son
of Mentu. So we did. The Israelite bade me stand away from the shore
lest we be seen. I put out into midstream and while mine eyes were
attracted for a space toward the other shore, a boat drew up at the
Marsh. I started to return, but before I could reach the place, the
Israelite--the man--they were in--each other's arms."
Masanath clasped her hands happily, but the servant went on, in haste.
"It was the son of Mentu, I know, my Lady. He was wondrous tall, and the
Israelite was glad to see him--"
"O, of a surety it was Kenkenes," Masanath interrupted eagerly.
"Nay, but hear me, my Lady," the serving-man protested, his distress
evident in his voice. "I moved away and turned my back, for I knew they
had no need of me. Once, twice, I looked and still they talked together.
But, alas! the third time I looked, it was because I heard sounds of
combat, and I saw that the son of Mentu and several men were fighting.
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