"Dry your tears and be not so sorrowful. You love Poeri? Well, love him,
and I shall not be jealous. Yacoub, a patriarch of our race, had two
wives; one was called Ra'hel as I am, and the other Leah. Yacoub
preferred Ra'hel, and yet Leah, who was not beautiful like you, lived
happily with him."
Tahoser knelt at Ra'hel's feet and kissed her hand. Ra'hel raised her
and put her arm around her waist. They formed a charming group, these
two women of different races, exhibiting, as they did, the
characteristic beauty of each: Tahoser elegant, graceful, and slender,
like a child that has grown too fast; Ra'hel dazzling, blooming, and
superb in her precocious maturity.
"Tahoser," said Poeri, "for that is your name, I think,--Tahoser,
daughter of the high-priest Petamounoph?"
The young girl nodded assent.
"How is it that you, who live in Thebes in a rich palace, surrounded by
slaves, and whom the handsomest among the Egyptians desire,--how is it
you have chosen to love me, a son of a race reduced to slavery, a
stranger who does not share your religious beliefs and who is separated
from you by so great a distance?"