he Hebrew had little time to repeat his resolve; the head chamberlain
interrupted them to lead Hosea into the presence of the "good god."

The sovereign awaited Hosea in the smaller audience-room adjoining the
royal apartments.

It was a stately chamber, and to-day looked more spacious than when, as
of yore, it was filled with obsequious throngs. Only a few courtiers and
priests, with some of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, all clad in
deep mourning, stood in groups near the throne. Opposite to Pharaoh,
squatting in a circle on the floor, were the king's councillors and
interpreters, each adorned with an ostrich plume.

All wore tokens of mourning, and the monotonous, piteous plaint of the
wailing women, which ever and anon rose into a loud, shrill, tremulous
shriek, echoed through the silent rooms within to this hall, announcing
that death had claimed a victim even in the royal dwelling.

The king and queen sat on a gold and ivory couch, heavily draped with
black. Instead of their usual splendid attire, both wore dark robes,
and the royal consort and mother, who mourned her first-born son, leaned
motionless, with drooping head, against her kingly husband's shoulder.

Pharaoh, too, gazed fixedly into space, as though lost in a dream. The
sceptre had slipped from his hand and lay in his lap.

The queen had been torn away from the corpse of her son, which was
now delivered to the embalmers, and it was not until she reached the
entrance of the audience-chamber that she had succeeded in checking her
tears. She had no thought of resistance; the inexorable ceremonial of
court etiquette required the queen to be present at any audience of
importance. To-day she would gladly have shunned the task, but Pharaoh
had commanded her presence, and she knew and approved the course to
be pursued; for she was full of dread of the power of the Hebrew Mesu,
called by his own people Moses, and of his God, who had brought such
terrible woe on the Egyptians. She had other children to lose, and she
had known Mesu from her childhood, and was well aware how highly the
great Rameses, her husband's father and predecessor, had prized the
wisdom of this stranger who had been reared with his own sons.

Ah, if it were only possible to conciliate this man. But Mesu had
departed with the Israelites, and she knew his iron will and had
learned that the terrible prophet was armed, not alone against Pharaoh's
threats, but also against her own fervent en