se their own necks
to the axe or the halter; if they do, they will surprise themselves
more than me."

The smile grew cold on Kama's half-open lips; Hiram, now pale, answered
humbly,

"How have we earned the anger of our lord and guardian?"

"I would know the truth," said Ramses, sitting down and looking
threateningly at Hiram. "I would know who arranged an attack on the
Assyrian ambassador, and associated in that villainy a man resembling
me as much as my two hands resemble each other?"

"Seest, Kama," said the frightened Hiram, "I told thee that intimacy
with that ruffian would bring great misfortune And here it is! We have
not waited long to see it."

The priestess fell at the prince's feet.

"I will tell all," cried she, groaning; "only cast from thy heart,
lord, anger against Phoenicians. Slay me, imprison me, but be not angry
at Phoenicians."

"Who attacked Sargon?"

"Lykon, the Greek, who sings in our temples," said the priestess, still
kneeling.

"Aha! it was he, then, who was singing outside thy house, and he
resembles me greatly?"

Hiram bent his head and placed his hand on his heart.

"We, lord, have paid that man bountifully because he is so like thee.
We thought that his figure might serve thee should the need come."

"And it has," interrupted the prince. "Where is he? I wish to see this
perfect singer, this living picture of myself."

Hiram held his hands apart.

"The scoundrel has fled, but we will find him," replied he, "unless he
turns into a fly or an earthworm."

"But Thou wilt forgive me, lord?" whispered the priestess, leaning on
the knees of the prince.

"Much is forgiven women," said Ramses.

"And ye will not take vengeance on me?" asked she of Hiram, with fear.

"Phoenicia," replied the old man, deliberately and with emphasis,
"forgives the greatest offence to that person who possesses the favor
of our lord Ramses, may he live through eternity! As to Lykon," added
he, turning to the heir, "Thou wilt have him, dead or living."

Hiram made a profound obeisance and went from the chamber, leaving the
prince with the priestess.

The blood rushed to Ramses' head; he embraced the kneeling Kama, and
asked,

"Hast Thou heard the words of the worthy Hiram? Phoenicia forgives thee
the greatest offence! That man is faithful to me indeed. And if he has
said that, what answer wilt Thou find?"

Kama kissed his hands, whispering,

"Thou hast won me I am thy slave. But leave me in