I swear to you that if I do not see him, you shall
never leave this city living."
"A shrewd argument, and to the point," said Metem reflectively. "Well,
I have prepared myself a rock-hewn tomb at Tyre, and do not wish that my
graven sarcophagus of best Egyptian alabaster should be wasted, or sold
to some upstart for a song."
"As assuredly it will be, if you do not obey me in this matter, Metem.
Remember--an hour before moonrise, at the foot of the pillar of El in
the inner court of the temple."
As she spoke Metem started, for his quick ears had caught a sound.
"O Queen divine," he said in a loud voice, as he led the way to the
front of the throne, "you are a hard bargainer! Were there many such, a
poor trader could not make a living. Ah! here is one who knows the
value of such priceless works of art," and he pointed to Mesa, who, with
folded arms and downcast eyes, stood within five paces of the throne,
as near, indeed, as custom allowed her to approach. "Lady," he went on
addressing you, "you will have heard the price I asked; say, now, is it
too much?"
"I have heard nothing, sir. I stand here, waiting the return of my holy
mistress that I may remind her that the hour of sunset prayer is at
hand."
"Would that I had so fair a mentor," exclaimed Metem, "for then I should
lose less time." But to himself he said, "She _has_ heard something,
though I think but little," then added aloud: "Well judge between us,
lady.
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