Bartja was certainly innocent of any share in the deception and in his brother's misery, but still he was the cause of all; so the old grudge, which had only just been allowed to slumber, woke again; and, as a relapse is always more dangerous than the original illness, the newly-roused anger was more violent than what he had formerly felt.
He thought and thought, but he could not devise a fitting punishment for this false woman.

Her death would not content his vengeance, she must suffer something worse than mere death! Should he send her back to Egypt, disgraced and shamed?
Oh, no! she loved her country, and she would be received by her parents with open arms.
Should he, after she had confessed her guilt, (for he was determined to force a confession from her) shut her up in a solitary dungeon?
or should he deliver her over to Boges, to be the servant of his concubines?
Yes! now he had hit upon the right punishment.

Thus the faithless creature should be disciplined, and the hypocrite, who had dared to make sport of him--the All-powerful--forced to atone for her crimes.
Then he said to himself: "Bartja must not stay here; fire and water have more in common than we two--he always fortunate and happy, and I so miserable.

Some day or other his descendants will divide my treasures, and wear my crown; but as yet I am king, and I will show that I am." The thought of his proud, powerful position flashed through him like lightning.

He woke from his dreams into new life, flung his golden goblet far into the hall, so that the wine flew round like rain, and cried: "We have had enough of this idle talk and useless noise.