words may sound hard, but he has broken faith with you, and openly
dishonored you."

"And shall I believe it?" said Nefert with a scornful laugh. "Shall
I believe it, because a scoundrel has written it, who has pawned his
father's body and the honor of big family; because it is told you by
that noble and brave gentleman! why a box on the ears from Mena would
be the death of him. Look at me, mother, here are my eyes, and if
that table there were Mena's tent, and you were Mena, and you took the
fairest woman living by the hand and led her into it, and these eyes saw
it--aye, over and over again--I would laugh at it--as I laugh at it now;
and I should say, 'Who knows what he may have to give her, or to say to
her,' and not for one instant would I doubt his truth; for your son is
false and Mena is true. Osiris broke faith with Isis--but Mena may be
favored by a hundred women--he will take none to his tent but me!"

"Keep your belief," said Katuti bitterly, "but leave me mine."

"Yours?" said Nefert, and her flushed cheeks turned pale again. "What do
you believe? You listen to the worst and basest things that can be said
of a man who has overloaded you with benefits! A wretch, bah! an ignoble
wretch? Is that what you call a man who lets you dispose of his estate
as you please!"

"Nefert," cried Katuti angrily, "I will--"

"Do what you will," interrupted her indignant daughter, "but do not
vilify the generous man who has never hindered you from throwing away
his property on your son's debts and your own ambition. Since the
day before yesterday I have learned that we are not rich; and I have
reflected, and I have asked myself what has become of our corn and our
cattle, of our sheep and the rents from the farmers. The wretch's estate
was not so contemptible; but I tell you plainly I should be unworthy to
be the wife of the noble Mena if I allowed any one to vilify his name
under his own roof. Hold to your belief, by all means, but one of us
must quit this house--you or I."

At these words Nefert broke into passionate sobs, threw herself on her
knees by her couch, hid her face in the cushions, and wept convulsively
and without intermission.

Katuti stood behind her, startled, trembling, and not knowing what to
say. Was this her gentle, dreamy daughter? Had ever a daughter dared to
speak thus to her mother? But was she right or was Nefert? This question
was the pressing one; she knelt down by the side of the young wife,
p