The Conspiracy

One morning early in March Seti stood beside the parapet on the palace of the king in Tanis. His eyes were fixed on the shimmering line of the northern level, but he did not see it. Some one came with silent footfall and laid a hand on his arm.

He turned and looked into Ta-user's eyes. His face softened and he took the hand between his own.

"Alas! this day thou returnest into the Hak-heb," he said.

She nodded. "Would I could take thee with me, but not yet, not yet. Wait till thou art a little older."

He sighed and looked away again. "What weighty things absorb my prince?" she asked. "What especial labors is he planning?"

His face clouded. "Dost thou mock me, Ta-user?" he returned.

"Hadst thou no thought at all?" she persisted.

"I merely pondered on mine own uselessness," he answered.

"Fie!"

"Nay, even thou must see it. I live on my father's bounty; I accept my people's homage; I adore the gods. I bear no arms; I neither prepare to reign nor expect to serve. I am a thing set above the healthy labor of the world and below the cares of the exalted. I am nothing."

"Fie! I say."

Seti looked at her reproachfully.

"Thou hast wealth," she began and paused.

"Wherein doth that make me useful?"

"Much can be done with gold. Is there none in need?"

"None who asks has been denied. Yet what right have I to deal alms to them from whom my riches come? If I yielded up everything, to my very cloak, should I have done more than return to them what they have given me? I should still be a penniless prince, more useless than ever." He sat down on the broad lintel capping the parapet, but retained her hand.