To confess was certain death, and she felt as if she had been made for life; she had so many hopes for the future, and the grave seemed so dreadful.

She thought she could perhaps have confessed the whole truth, if perpetual imprisonment had been all she had to fear; but death! no, she could not resolve on that.

And besides, would her confession really save the already condemned Nitetis?
Had she not sent a message to Bartja herself by that unfortunate gardener's boy?
This secret correspondence had been discovered, and that was enough of itself to ruin Nitetis, even if she, Mandane, had done nothing in the matter.

We are never so clever as when we have to find excuses for our own sins.
At sunrise, Mandane was kneeling by her mistress's couch, weeping bitterly and wondering that Nitetis could sleep so calmly.
Boges, the eunuch, had passed a sleepless night too, but a very happy one.

His hated colleague, Kandaules, whom he had used as a substitute for himself, had been already executed, by the king's command, for negligence, and on the supposition that he had accepted a bribe; Nitetis was not only ruined, but certain to die a shameful death.