Har-hat put Masanath on her feet and started to leave her, but she
flung her arms about his neck.
"Forgive me, my father," she sobbed. "For my rebellion the gods may
absolve me, but I have been unfilial and for that there is no
justification. If aught should befall thee in these awful days, how I
should reproach myself! Sawest thou not the Hebrew's gaze upon thee?
Say thou dost forgive me!"
"Nay, nay," he said hastily; "thou hast not done me to death by thine
undutifulness. And the Hebrew fears me. Get back to thy chamber and
rest." He kissed her and undid her clinging arms. Going to the king,
he put aside Hotep, who was striving to raise the monarch, and lifted
Meneptah in his arms.
"Masanath is better now, good Hotep, and I would take my place beside
my king."
Without summoning further aid, he half carried the limp monarch up the
hall and into the royal bed-chamber.
Weak, shaking, sated with horror and numb with fear, Masanath attempted
to return to her apartments, but at the second step she reeled. Hotep
saw her. The fan-bearer was not in sight. In an instant the scribe
was beside the fainting girl, supporting her, nor did he release her
until she was safe in the ministering arms of Nari.
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