thou needst not approach the guarded space."

Then the Wanderer drew near with a doubting heart, but Rei the Priest
stood afar off, though the temple priests came close enough. At the
curtains they stopped and listened. Then from within the shrine there
came a sound of singing wild and sweet and shrill, and the voice of it
stirred the Wanderer strangely, bringing to his mind memories of that
Ithaca of which he was Lord and which he should see no more; of the
happy days of youth, and of the God-built walls of windy Ilios. But he
could not have told why he thought on these things, nor why his heart
was thus strangely stirred within him.

"Hearken! the Hathor sings as she weaves the doom of men," said the
priest, and as he spoke the singing ended.

Then the Wanderer took counsel with himself whether he should then and
there burst the doors and take his fortune, or whether he should forbear
for that while. But in the end he determined to forbear and see with his
own eyes what befell those who strove to win the way.

So he drew back, wondering much; and, bidding farewell to the aged
priest, he went with Rei, the Master Builder, through the town of Tanis,
where the Apura were still spoiling the people of Khem, and he came to
the Palace where he was lodged. Here he turned over in his mind how he
might see the strange woman of the temple, and yet escape the baths of
bronze. There he sat and thought till at length the night drew on, and
one came to summon him to sup with Pharaoh in the Hall. Then he rose
up and went, and meeting Pharaoh and Meriamun the Queen in the outer
chamber, passed in after them to the Hall, and on to the dais which he
had held against the rabble, for the place was clear of dead, and, save
for certain stains upon the marble floor that might not be washed away,
and for some few arrows that yet were fixed high up in the walls or in
the lofty roof, there was nothing to tell of the great fray that had
been fought but one day gone.

Heavy was the face of Pharaoh, and the few who sat with him were sad
enough because of the death of so many whom they loved, and the shame
and sorrow that had fallen upon Khem. But there were no tears for her
one child in the eyes of Meriamun the Queen. Anger, not grief, tore her
heart because Pharaoh had let the Apura go. For ever as they sat at
the sad feast there came a sound of the tramping feet of armies, and of
lowing cattle, and songs of triumph, sung by ten thousand voi