of his last solemn words still reverberated in the vast and mysterious temple. From afar the last sounds of life and bustle from the bridal city reached this lonely, poetic spot only as a murmur from dreamland.
Maat-kha stood as rigid and inert as her dead son, only from time to time a nervous shiver went right through her, and she gathered her veil close to her as if she felt cold.
"I am waiting for thy answer, Maat-kha," said the high priest.
She looked up at him, half-appealing, half-defiant. There was no sorrow on her face for the dead son whom she had never loved, no fear of the punishment with which the high priest threatened her. She said very quietly:
"What answer dost thou expect of me?"
"I wish to know if, after thy madness, thou dost understand the hideousness of thy crime, and dost fear the vengeance of the goddess whose temple thou didst desecrate?"
"My hands did act, but not my will. He taunted me and my reason fled. I had no wish to kill him, only to silence his poisonous tongue."
"Hold thy peace, woman! Do not slander the dead and heap more sorrow and humiliation upon thy doomed head."
"What wouldst thou have me do, Ur-tasen? Madness seized me. I am accursed. Wilt thou give me the boon of a dagger with which to send my sinful soul to the foot of the throne of Osiris? who perhaps will understand, and understanding, pardon."
"Thy soul is not worthy to appear before the gods. Judgment would decree that thy body be allowed to rot, lest so vile a soul find once more habitation upon earth and live to commit other most horrible crimes."
