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Kenkenes understood the pause. Again he laid his hand on the murket's sleeve. "On this very matter would I take counsel with thee, my father," he said gently. "The night grows, and my time is short." Mentu turned an unhappy face toward his son and followed him back to the bench they had left.
"Not yet, perchance," he said calmly, "or never. But we shall not put trust in auguries. The oppression of the people is already begun at Pa-Ramesu and the brick-fields. Ye shall not return to those dire hardships. Ye can not return to Masaarah. In Memphis I offer my father's house, but Rachel refuses it. In Nehapehu there is safety among the peasantry on the murket's lands.
We seek not the neighborhood of it." Hotep caught the murket's arm and drew him out of the aisle into hiding behind another great stone. "This is the place; this is the place," the first voice declared, and his statement was seconded by another and as positive a voice.
Every word of the murket's fell plainly on Rachel's ears. The tones were those of Kenkenes, grown older. The statement came to her as a call upon her knowledge of the young artist's whereabouts. "Tell him tell him " she whispered desperately. "What?" asked Masanath, turning about. "Tell him where Kenkenes went!" The Egyptian leaned over the parapet. "Fie! he is gone!" she said.
With few and simple words he told his story, pictured his father's loneliness and, while she wept silently, begged her to become his father's wife on the morrow. There was no long persuasion; the need of the occasion was sufficient eloquence for the murket's noble love.
Would it were white-hot and clung to him like a leech!" Kenkenes said nothing. The murket's wrath was more comforting to him than tender words could have been. "Who hath the ear of Meneptah?" the murket continued with increasing vehemence. "Har-hat! And behold the miseries of Egypt! Shall we put any great sin past the knave who sinneth monstrously, or divine his methods who is a master of cunning?
Even the faith thou couldst keep in Egypt, so thou wert watchful. And further, thou art the murket's son, and building takes the place of carving for thee, now. But, here, O Kenkenes, thou must lay thy chisel down for ever, for the faith of the multitude, so newly weaned from idolatry, is too feeble to be tried with the sight of images." Kenkenes heard her with a passive countenance.
He crossed the room and laid a trembling hand on the murket's shoulder. Instantly the great artist lifted his head and, seeing Kenkenes, leaped to his feet with a cry that was all joy. The young man responded to the kiss of welcome with so little composure that Mentu forced him down on the bench and summoned a servant.
Not for an instant did his father's authority appear to him as an obstacle. He knew that the murket's outburst was a final stand before capitulation. Kenkenes was troubled only for what might follow after his father had surrendered. He followed the murket to the door and laid his arm across the broad shoulders. "Father," he said persuasively. Mentu did not move.
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