"When sedition arises and defies the Pharaoh in his audience chamber,"
Hotep went on, "it has reached the stage of a single alternative--success
or death. Dost know the Lady Miriam?"

"The Israelite?"

"Even so."

"I saw her this day."

"Good. Now, look upon the scene. Thou knowest she is the sister of
Prince Mesu, and the favorite waiting-woman of the good Queen Thermuthis.
She has lived in obscurity for forty years, but this morning she swept
into the audience chamber, did majestic obeisance and besought a word
'with him who was an infant in her maturity,' she said. The council
chamber was filled with those gathered to welcome Har-hat. Meneptah bade
her speak. Hast thou ever heard an Israelitish harangue?" he broke off
suddenly.

Kenkenes shook his head.

"Ah, theirs is pristine oratory--occult eloquence," the scribe said
earnestly, "and she is mistress of the art. She told the history of
Israel and catalogued its wrongs in a manner that lacked only measure and
music to make it a song. But, Kenkenes, she did not move us to
compunction and pity. When she had done, we had not looked on a picture
of suffering and oppression, but of insulted pride and rebellion.
Instead of compunction, she awakened admiration, instead of pity,
respect. For the moment she represented, not a multitude of complaining