oked at her compassionately,
and said in a changed tone:

"Dost thou remember the diamond which fell out of Nefert's handsomest
ring? We hunted for it, and could not find it. Next day, as I was going
through the room, I trod on something hard; I stooped down and found the
stone. What the noble organ of sight, the eye, overlooked, the callous
despised sole of the foot found; and perhaps the small slave, Nemu, who
knows nothing of honor, may succeed in finding a mode of escape which is
not revealed to the lofty soul of his mistress!"

"What are you thinking of?" asked Katuti.

"Escape," answered the dwarf. "Is it true that thy sister Setchem has
visited thee, and that you are reconciled?"

"She offered me her hand, and I took it?"

"Then go to her. Men are never more helpful than after a reconciliation.
The enmity they have driven out, seems to leave as it were a
freshly-healed wound which must be touched with caution; and Setchem is
of thy own blood, and kind-hearted."

"She is not rich," replied Katuti. "Every palm in her garden comes from
her husband, and belongs to her children."

"Paaker, too, was with you?"

"Certainly only by the entreaty of his mother--he hates my son-in-law."

"I know it," muttered the dwarf, "but if Nefert would ask him?"

The widow drew herself up indignantly. She felt that she had allowed the
dwarf too much freedom, and ordered him to leave her alone.

Nemu kissed her robe and asked timidly:

"Shall I forget that thou hast trusted me, or am I permitted to consider
further as to thy son's safety?" Katuti stood for a moment undecided,
then she said:

"You were clever enough to find what I carelessly dropped; perhaps some
God may show you what I ought to do. Now leave me."

"Wilt thou want me early to-morrow?"

"No."

"Then I will go to the Necropolis, and offer a sacrifice."

"Go!" said Katuti, and went towards the house with the fatal letter in
her hand.

Nemu stayed behind alone; he looked thoughtfully at the ground,
murmuring to himself.

"She must not lose her honor; not at present, or indeed all will be
lost. What is this honor? We all come into the world without it, and
most of us go to the grave without knowing it, and very good folks
notwithstanding. Only a few who are rich and idle weave it in with the
homely stuff of their souls, as the Kuschites do their hair with grease
and oils, till it forms a cap of which, though it disfigures them, they
are so proud that