"There certainly are such drinks--" said Ani thoughtfully. "But will they

only win hearts to young men! If that is the case, the old woman's trade
is a bad one, for youth is in itself a charm to attract love. If I were
only as young as Paaker! You laugh at the sighs of a man--say at once of
an old man! Well, yes, I am old, for the prime of life lies behind me.
And yet Katuti, my friend, wisest of women--explain to me one thing. When
I was young I was loved by many and admired many women, but not one of
them--not even my wife, who died young, was more to me than a toy, a
plaything; and now when I stretch out my hand for a girl, whose father I
might very well be--not for her own sake, but simply to serve my
purpose--and she refuses me, I feel as much disturbed, as much a fool
as-as that dealer in love-philters, Paaker."

"Have you spoken to Bent-Anat?" asked Katuti.

"And heard again from her own lips the refusal she had sent me through
you. You see my spirit has suffered!"

"And on what pretext did she reject your suit?" asked the widow.

"Pretext!" cried Ani. "Bent-Anat and pretext! It must be owned that she
has kingly pride, and not Ma--[The Goddess of Truth]--herself is more
truthful than she. That I should have to confess it! When I think of her,
our plots seem to me unutterably pitiful. My veins contain, indeed, many
drops of the blood of Thotmes, and though the experience of life has
taught me to stoop low, still the stooping hurts me. I have never known
the happy feeling of satisfaction with my lot and my work; for I have
always had a greater position than I could fill, and constantly done less
than I ought to have done. In order not to look always resentful, I
always wear a smile. I have nothing left of the face I was born with but
the mere skin, and always wear a mask. I serve him whose master I believe
I ought to be by birth; I hate Rameses, who, sincerely or no, calls me
his brother; and while I stand as if I were the bulwark of his authority
I am diligently undermining it. My whole existence is a lie."

"But it will be truth," cried Katuti, "as soon as the Gods allow you to
be--as you are--the real king of this country."

"Strange!" said Ani smiling, Ameni, this very day, used almost exactly
the same words. The wisdom of priests, and that of women, have much in
common, and they fight with the same weapons. You use words instead of
swords, traps instead of lances, and you cast not our bodies, but our
souls, into irons."

"Do you blame or praise us for it?" said the widow. "We are in any case
not impotent allies, and therefore, it seems to me, desirable ones."

"Indeed you are," said Ani smiling. "Not a tear is shed in the land,
whether it is shed for joy or for sorrow, for which in the first instance
a priest or a woman is not responsible. Seriously, Katuti--in nine great
events out of ten you women have a hand in the game. You gave the first
impulse to all that is plotting here, and I will confess to you that,
regardless of all consequences, I should in a few hours have given up my
pretensions to the throne, if that woman Bent-Anat had said 'yes' instead
of 'no.'"

"You make me believe," said Katuti, "that the weaker sex are gifted with
stronger wills than the nobler. In marrying us you style us, 'the
mistress of the house,' and if the elders of the citizens grow infirm, in
this country it is not the sons but the daughters that must be their
mainstay. But we women have our weaknesses, and chief of these is
curiosity.--May I ask on what ground Bent-Anat dismissed you?"

"You know so much that you may know all," replied Ani. "She admitted me
to speak to her alone. It was yet early, and she had come from the
temple, where the weak old prophet had absolved her from uncleanness; she
met me, bright, beautiful and proud, strong and radiant as a Goddess, and
a princess. My heart throbbed as if I were a boy, and while she was
showing me her flowers I said to myself: 'You are come to obtain through
her another claim to the throne.' And yet I felt that, if she consented
to be mine, I would remain the true brother, the faithful Regent of
Rameses, and enjoy happiness and peace by her side before it was too
late. If she refused me then I resolved that fate must take its way, and,
instead of peace and love, it must be war for the crown snatched from my
fathers. I tried to woo her, but she cut my words short, said I was a
noble man, and a worthy suitor but--"

"There came the but."

"Yes--in the form of a very frank 'no.' I asked her reasons. She begged
me to be content with the 'no;' then I pressed her harder, till she
interrupted me, and owned with proud decision that she preferred some one
else. I wished to learn the name of the happy man--that she refused. Then
my blood began to boil, and my desire to win her increased; but I had to
leave her, rejected, and with a fresh, burning, poisoned wound in my
heart."

"You are jealous!" said Katuti, "and do you know of whom?"

"No," replied Ani. "But I hope to find out through you. What I feel it is
impossible for me to express. But one thing I know, and that is this,
that I entered the palace a vacillating man--that I left it firmly
resolved. I now rush straight onwards, never again to turn back. From
this time forward you will no longer have to drive me onward, but rather
to hold me back; and, as if the Gods had meant to show that they would
stand by me, I found the high-priest Ameni, and the chief pioneer Paaker
waiting for me in my house. Ameni will act for me in Egypt, Paaker in
Syria. My victorious troops from Ethiopia will enter Thebes to-morrow
morning, on their return home in triumph, as if the king were at their
head, and will then take part in the Feast of the Valley. Later we will
send them into the north, and post them in the fortresses which protect
Egypt against enemies coming from the east Tanis, Daphne, Pelusium,
Migdol. Rameses, as you know, requires that we should drill the serfs of
the temples, and send them to him as auxiliaries. I will send him half of
the body-guard, the other half shall serve my own purposes. The garrison
of Memphis, which is devoted to Rameses, shall be sent to Nubia, and
shall be relieved by troops that are faithful to me. The people of Thebes
are led by the priests, and tomorrow Ameni will point out to them who is
their legitimate king, who will put an end to the war and release them
from taxes. The children of Rameses will be excluded from the
solemnities, for Ameni, in spite of the chief-priest of Anion, still
pronounces Bent-Anat unclean. Young Rameri has been doing wrong and
Ameni, who has some other great scheme in his mind, has forbidden him the
temple of Seti; that will work on the crowd! You know how things are
going on in Syria: Rameses has suffered much at the hands of the Cheta
and their allies; whole legions are weary of eternally lying in the
field, and if things came to extremities would join us; but, perhaps,
especially if Paaker acquits himself well, we may be victorious without
fighting. Above all things now we must act rapidly."

"I no longer recognize the timid, cautious lover of delay!" exclaimed
Katuti.

"Because now prudent hesitation would be want of prudence," said Ani.

"And if the king should get timely information as to what is happening
here?" said Katuti.

"I said so!" exclaimed Ani; "we are exchanging parts."

"You are mistaken," said Katuti. "I also am for pressing forwards; but I
would remind you of a necessary precaution. No letters but yours must
reach the camp for the next few weeks."

"Once more you and the priests are of one mind," said Ani laughing; 'for
Ameni gave me the same counsel. Whatever letters are sent across the
frontier between Pelusium and the Red Sea will be detained. Only my
letters--in which I complain of the piratical sons of the desert who fall
upon the messengers--will reach the king."

"That is wise," said the widow; "let the seaports of the Red Sea be
watched too, and the public writers. When you are king, you can
distinguish those who are affected for or against you."

Ani shook his head and replied:

"That would put me in a difficult position; for it I were to punish those
who are now faithful to their king, and exalt the others, I should have
to govern with unfaithful servants, and turn away the faithful ones. You
need not color, my kind friend, for we are kin, and my concerns are
yours."

Katuti took the hand he offered her and said:

"It is so. And I ask no further reward than to see my father's house once
more in the enjoyment of its rights."

"Perhaps we shall achieve it," said Ani; "but in a short time
if--if--Reflect, Katuti; try to find out, ask your daughter to help you
to the utmost. Who is it that she--you know whom I mean--Who is it that
Bent-Anat loves?"

The widow started, for Ani had spoken the last words with a vehemence
very foreign to his usual courtliness, but soon she smiled and repeated
to the Regent the names of the few young nobles who had not followed the
king, and remained in Thebes. "Can it be Chamus?" at last she said, "he
is at the camp, it is true, but nevertheless--"

At this instant Nemu, who had not lost a word of the conversation, came
in as if straight from the garden and said:

"Pardon me, my lady; but I have heard a strange thing."

"Speak," said Katuti.

The high and mighty princess Bent-Anat, the daughter of Rameses, is said
to have an open love-affair with a young priest of the House of Seti."

"You barefaced scoundrel!" exclaimed Ani, and his eyes sparkled with
rage. "Prove what you say, or you lose your tongue."

"I am willing to lose it as a slanderer and traitor according to the
law," said the little man abjectly, and yet with a malicious laugh; "but
this time I shall keep it, for I can vouch for what I say. You both know
that Bent-Anat was pronounced unclean because she stayed for an hour and
more in the house of a paraschites. She had an assignation there with the
priest. At a second, in the temple of Hatasu, they were surprised by
Septah, the chief of the haruspices of the House of Seti."

"Who is the priest?" asked Ani with apparent calmness.

"A low-born man," replied Nemu, "to whom a free education was given at
the House of Seti, and who is well known as a verse-maker and interpreter
of dreams. His name is Pentaur, and it certainly must be admitted that he
is handsome and dignified. He is line for line the image of the pioneer
Paaker's late father. Didst thou ever see him, my lord?"

The Regent looked gloomily at the floor and nodded that he had. But
Katuti cried out; "Fool that I am! the dwarf is right! I saw how she
blushed when her brother told her how the boys had rebelled on his
account against Ameni. It is Pentaur and none other!"

"Good!" said Ani, "we will see."

With these words he took leave of Katuti, who, as he disappeared in the
garden, muttered to herself: "He was wonderfully clear and decided
to-day; but jealousy is already blinding him and will soon make him feel
that he cannot get on without my sharp eyes."

Nemu had slipped out after the Regent.

He called to him from behind a fig-tree, and hastily whispered, while he
bowed with deep respect:

"My mother knows a great deal, most noble highness! The sacred Ibis

[Ibis religiosa. It has disappeared from Egypt There were two
varieties of this bird, which was sacred to Toth, and mummies of
both have been found in various places. Elian states that an
immortal Ibis was shown at Hermopolis. Plutarch says, the ibis
destroys poisonous reptiles, and that priests draw the water for
their purifications where the Ibis has drunk, as it will never touch
unwholesome water.]

wades through the fen when it goes in search of prey, and why shouldst
thou not stoop to pick up gold out of the dust? I know how thou couldst
speak with the old woman without being seen."

"Speak," said Ani.

"Throw her into prison for a day, hear what she has to say, and then
release her--with gifts if she is of service to you--if not, with blows.
But thou wilt learn something important from her that she obstinately
refused to tell me even."

"We will see!" replied the Regent. He threw a ring of gold to the dwarf
and got into his chariot.

So large a crowd had collected in the vicinity of the palace, that Ani
apprehended mischief, and ordered his charioteer to check the pace of the
horses, and sent a few police-soldiers to the support of the out-runners;
but good news seemed to await him, for at the gate of the castle he heard
the unmistakable acclamations of the crowd, and in the palace court he
found a messenger from the temple of Seti, commissioned by Ameni to
communicate to him and to the people, the occurrence of a great miracle,
in that the heart of the ram of Anion, that had been torn by wolves, had
been found again within the breast of the dead prophet Rui.

Ani at once descended from his chariot, knelt down before all the people,
who followed his example, lifted his arms to heaven, and praised the Gods
in a loud voice. When, after some minutes, he rose and entered the
palace, slaves came out and distributed bread to the crowd in Ameni's
name.

"The Regent has an open hand," said a joiner to his neighbor; "only look
how white the bread is. I will put it in my pocket and take it to the
children."

"Give me a bit!" cried a naked little scamp, snatching the cake of bread
from the joiner's hand and running away, slipping between the legs of the
people as lithe as a snake.

"You crocodile's brat!" cried his victim. "The insolence of boys gets
worse and worse every day."

"They are hungry," said the woman apologetically. "Their fathers are gone
to the war, and the mothers have nothing for their children but
papyrus-pith and lotus-seeds."

"I hope they enjoy it," laughed the joiner. "Let us push to the left;
there is a man with some more bread."

"The Regent must rejoice greatly over the miracle," said a shoemaker. "It
is costing him something."

"Nothing like it has happened for a long time," said a basket-maker. "And
he is particularly glad it should be precisely Rui's body, which the
sacred heart should have blessed. You ask why?--Hatasu is Ani's
ancestress, blockhead!"

"And Rui was prophet of the temple of Hatasu," added the joiner.

"The priests over there are all hangers-on of the old royal house, that I
know," asserted a baker.

"That's no secret!" cried the cobbler. "The old times were better than
these too. The war upsets everything, and quite respectable people go
barefoot because they cannot pay for shoe-leather. Rameses is a great
warrior, and the son of Ra, but what can he do without the Gods; and they
don't seem to like to stay in Thebes any longer; else why should the
heart of the sacred ram seek a new dwelling in the Necropolis, and in the
breast of an adherent of the old--"

"Hold your tongue," warned the basket-maker. "Here comes one of the
watch."

"I must go back to work," said the baker. "I have my hands quite full for
the feast to-morrow."

"And I too," said the shoemaker with a sigh, "for who would follow the
king of the Gods through the Necropolis barefoot."

"You must earn a good deal," cried the basket-maker. "We should do better
if we had better workmen," replied the shoemaker, "but all the good hands
are gone to the war. One has to put up with stupid youngsters. And as for
the women! My wife must needs have a new gown for the procession, and
bought necklets for the children. Of course we must honor the dead, and
they repay it often by standing by us when we want it--but what I pay for
sacrifices no one can tell. More than half of what I earn goes in them--"

"In the first grief of losing my poor wife," said the baker, "I promised
a small offering every new moon, and a greater one every year. The
priests will not release us from our vows, and times get harder and
harder. And my dead wife owes me a grudge, and is as thankless as she was
is her lifetime; for when she appears to me in a dream she does not give
me a good word, and often torments me."

"She is now a glorified all-seeing spirit," said the basket-maker's wife,
"and no doubt you were faithless to her. The glorified souls know all
that happens, and that has happened on earth."

The baker cleared his throat, having no answer ready; but the shoemaker
exclaimed:

"By Anubis, the lord of the under-world, I hope I may die before my old
woman! for if she finds out down there all I have done in this world, and
if she may be changed into any shape she pleases, she will come to me
every night, and nip me like a crab, and sit on me like a mountain."

"And if you die first," said the woman, "she will follow you afterwards
to the under-world, and see through you there."

"That will be less dangerous," said the shoemaker laughing, "for then I
shall be glorified too, and shall know all about her past life. That will
not all be white paper either, and if she throws a shoe at me I will
fling the last at her."

"Come home," said the basket-maker's wife, pulling her husband away. "You
are getting no good by hearing this talk."

The bystanders laughed, and the baker exclaimed:

"It is high time I should be in the Necropolis before it gets dark, and
see to the tables being laid for to-morrow's festival. My trucks are
close to the narrow entrance to the valley. Send your little ones to me,
and I will give them something nice. Are you coming over with me?"

"My younger brother is gone over with the goods," replied the shoemaker.
"We have plenty to do still for the customers in Thebes, and here am I
standing gossiping. Will the wonderful heart of the sacred ram be
exhibited to-morrow do you know?"

"Of course--no doubt," said the baker, "good-bye, there go my cases!"




CHAPTER XXVI.

Notwithstanding the advanced hour, hundreds of people were crossing over
to the Necropolis at the same time as the baker. They were permitted to
linger late on into the evening, under the inspection of the watch,
because it was the eve of the great feast, and they had to set out their
counters and awnings, to pitch their tents, and to spread out their
wares; for as soon as the sun rose next day all business traffic would be
stopped, none but festal barges might cross from Thebes, or such boats as
ferried over pilgrims--men, women, and children whether natives or
foreigners, who were to take part in the great procession.

In the halls and work-rooms of the House of Seti there was unusual stir.
The great miracle of the wonderful heart had left but a short time for
the preparations for the festival. Here a chorus was being practised,
there on the sacred lake a scenic representation was being rehearsed;
here the statues of the Gods were being cleaned and dressed,

[The dressing and undressing of the holy images was conducted in
strict accordance with a prescribed ritual. The inscriptions in the
seven sanctuaries of Abydos, published by Alariette, are full of
instruction as to these ordinances, which were significant in every
detail.]

and the colors of the sacred emblems were being revived, there the
panther-skins and other parts of the ceremonial vestments of the priests
were being aired and set out; here sceptres, censers and other
metal-vessels were being cleaned, and there the sacred bark which was to
be carried in the procession was being decorated. In the sacred groves of
the temple the school-boys, under the direction of the gardeners, wove
garlands and wreaths to decorate the landing-places, the sphinxes, the
temple, and the statues of the Gods. Flags were hoisted on the
brass-tipped masts in front of the pylon, and purple sails were spread to
give shadow to the court.

The inspector of sacrifices was already receiving at a side-door the
cattle, corn and fruit, offerings which were brought as tribute to the
House of Seti, by citizens from all parts of the country, on the occasion
of the festival of the Valley, and he was assisted by scribes, who kept
an account of all that was brought in by the able-bodied temple-servants
and laboring serfs.

Ameni was everywhere: now with the singers, now with the magicians, who
were to effect wonderful transformations before the astonished multitude;
now with the workmen, who were erecting thrones for the Regent, the
emissaries from other collegiate foundations--even from so far as the
Delta--and the prophets from Thebes; now with the priests, who were
preparing the incense, now with the servants, who were trimming the
thousand lamps for the illumination at night--in short everywhere; here
inciting, there praising. When he had convinced himself that all was
going on well he desired one of the priests to call Pentaur.

After the departure of the exiled prince Rameri, the young priest had
gone to the work-room of his friend Nebsecht.

The leech went uneasily from his phials to his cages, and from his cages
back to his flasks. While he told Pentaur of the state he had found his
room in on his return home, he wandered about in feverish excitement,
unable to keep still, now kicking over a bundle of plants, now thumping
down his fist on the table; his favorite birds were starved to death, his
snakes had escaped, and his ape had followed their example, apparently in
his fear of them.

"The brute, the monster!" cried Nebsecht in a rage. He has thrown over
the jars with the beetles in them, opened the chest of meal that I feed
the birds and insects upon, and rolled about in it; he has thrown my
knives, prickers, and forceps, my pins, compasses, and reed pens all out
of window; and when I came in he was sitting on the cupboard up there,
looking just like a black slave that works night and day in a corn-mill;
he had got hold of the roll which contained all my observations on the
structure of animals--the result of years of study-and was looking at it
gravely with his head on one side. I wanted to take the book from him,
but he fled with the roll, sprang out of window, let himself down to the
edge of the well, and tore and rubbed the manuscript to pieces in a rage.
I leaped out after him, but he jumped into the bucket, took hold of the
chain, and let himself down, grinning at me in mockery, and when I drew
him up again he jumped into the water with the remains of the book."

"And the poor wretch is drowned?" asked Pentaur.

"I fished him up with the bucket, and laid him to dry in the sun; but he
had been tasting all sorts of medicines, and he died at noon. My
observations are gone! Some of them certainly are still left; however, I
must begin again at the beginning. You see apes object as much to my
labors as sages; there lies the beast on the shelf."

Pentaur had laughed at his friend's story, and then lamented his loss;
but now he said anxiously:

"He is lying there on the shelf? But you forget that he ought to have
been kept in the little oratory of Toth near the library. He belongs to
the sacred dogfaced apes,

[The dog faced baboon, Kynokephalos, was sacred to Toth as the
Moongod. Mummies of these apes have been found at Thebes and
Hermopolis, and they are often represented as reading with much
gravity. Statues of them have been found to great quantities, and
there is a particularly life-like picture of a Kynokephalos in
relief on the left wall of the library of the temple of Isis at
Philoe.]

and all the sacred marks were found upon him. The librarian gave him into
your charge to have his bad eye cured."

"That was quite well," answered Nebsecht carelessly.

"But they will require the uninjured corpse of you, to embalm it," said
Pentaur.

"Will they?" muttered Nebsecht; and he looked at his friend like a boy
who is asked for an apple that has long been eaten.

"And you have already been doing something with it," said Pentaur, in a
tone of friendly vexation.

The leech nodded. "I have opened him, and examined his heart.'

"You are as much set on hearts as a coquette!" said Pentaur. "What is
become of the human heart that the old paraschites was to get for you?"

Nebsecht related without reserve what the old man had done for him, and
said that he had investigated the human heart, and had found nothing in
it different from what he had discovered in the heart of beasts.

"But I must see it in connection with the other organs of the human
body," cried he; "and my decision is made. I shall leave the House of
Seti, and ask the kolchytes to take me into their guild. If it is
necessary I will first perform the duties of the lowest paraschites."

Pentaur pointed out to the leech what a bad exchange he would be making,
and at last exclaimed, when Nebsecht eagerly contradicted him, "This
dissecting of the heart does not please me. You say yourself that you
learned nothing by it. Do you still think it a right thing, a fine
thing--or even useful?"

"I do not trouble myself about it," replied Nebsecht. "Whether my
observations seem good or evil, right or heinous, useful or useless, I
want to know how things are, nothing more."

"And so for mere curiosity," cried Pentaur, "you would endanger the
blissful future of thousands of your fellow-men, take upon yourself the
most abject duties, and leave this noble scene of your labors, where we
all strive for enlightenment, for inward knowledge and truth."

The naturalist laughed scornfully; the veins swelled angrily in Pentaur's
forehead, and his voice took a threatening tone as he asked:

"And do you believe that your finger and your eyes have lighted on the
truth, when the noblest souls have striven in vain for thousands of years
to find it out? You descend beneath the level of human understanding by
madly wallowing in the mire; and the more clearly you are convinced that
you have seized the truth, the more utterly you are involved in the toils
of a miserable delusion."

"If I believed I knew the truth should I so eagerly seek it?" asked
Nebsecht. "The more I observe and learn, the more deeply I feel my want
of knowledge and power."

"That sounds modest enough," said the poet, "but I know the arrogance to
which your labors are leading you. Everything that you see with your own
eyes and touch with your own hand, you think infallible, and everything
that escapes your observation you secretly regard as untrue, and pass by
with a smile of superiority. But you cannot carry your experiments beyond
the external world, and you forget that there are things which lie in a
different realm."

"I know nothing of those things," answered Nebsecht quietly.

"But we--the Initiated," cried Pentaur, "turn our attention to them also.
Thoughts--traditions--as to their conditions and agency have existed
among us for a thousand years; hundreds of generations of men have
examined these traditions, have approved them, and have handed them down
to us. All our knowledge, it is true, is defective, and yet prophets have
been favored with the gift of looking into the future, magic powers have
been vouchsafed to mortals. All this is contrary to the laws of the
external world, which are all that you recognize, and yet it can easily
be explained if we accept the idea of a higher order of things. The
spirit of the Divinity dwells in each of us, as in nature. The natural
man can only attain to such knowledge as is common to all; but it is the
divine capacity for serene discernment--which is omniscience--that works
in the seer; it is the divine and unlimited power--which is
omnipotence--that from time to time enables the magician to produce
supernatural effects!"

"Away with prophets and marvels!" cried Nebsecht.

"I should have thought," said Pentaur, "that even the laws of nature
which you recognize presented the greatest marvels daily to your eyes;
nay the Supreme One does not disdain sometimes to break through the
common order of things, in order to reveal to that portion of Himself
which we call our soul, the sublime Whole of which we form part--Himself.
Only today you have seen how the heart of the sacred ram--"

"Man, man!" Nebsecht interrupted, "the sacred heart is the heart of a
hapless sheep that a sot of a soldier sold for a trifle to a haggling
grazier, and that was slaughtered in a common herd. A proscribed
paraschites put it into the body of Rui, and--and--" he opened the
cupboard, threw the carcase of the ape and some clothes on to the floor,
and took out an alabaster bowl which he held before the poet--"the
muscles you see here in brine, this machine, once beat in the breast of
the prophet Rui. My sheep's heart wilt be carried to-morrow in the
procession! I would have told you all about it if I had not promised the
old man to hold my tongue, and then--But what ails you, man?" Pentaur had
turned away from his friend, and covered his face with his hands, and he
groaned as if he were suffering some frightful physical pain. Nebsecht
divined what was passing in the mind of his friend. Like a child that has
to ask forgiveness of its mother for some misdeed, he went close up to
Pentaur, but stood trembling behind him not daring to speak to him.

Several minutes passed. Suddenly Pentaur raised his head, lifted his
hands to heaven, and cried:

"O Thou! the One!--though stars may fall from the heavens in summer
nights, still Thy eternal and immutable laws guide the never-resting
planets in their paths. Thou pure and all-prevading Spirit, that dwellest
in me, as I know by my horror of a lie, manifest Thyself in me--as light
when I think, as mercy when I act, and when I speak, as truth--always as
truth!"

The poet spoke these words with absorbed fervor, and Nebsecht heard them
as if they were speech from some distant and beautiful world. He went
affectionately up to his friend, and eagerly held out his hand. Pentaur
grasped it, pressed it warmly, and said:

"That was a fearful moment! You do not know what Ameni has been to me,
and now, now!"

He hardly had ceased speaking when steps were heard approaching the
physician's room, and a young priest requested the friends to appear at
once in the meeting-room of the Initiated. In a few moments they both
entered the great hall, which was brilliantly lighted.

Not one of the chiefs of the House of Seti was absent.

Ameni sat on a raised seat at a long table; on his right hand was old
Gagabu, on his left the third Prophet of the temple. The principals of
the different orders of priests had also found places at the table, and
among them the chief of the haruspices, while the rest of the priests,
all in snow-white linen robes, sat, with much dignity, in a large
semicircle, two rows deep. In the midst stood a statue of the Goddess of
truth and justice.

Behind Ameni's throne was the many-colored image of the ibis-headed Toth,
who presided over the measure and method of things, who counselled the
Gods as well as men, and presided over learning and the arts. In a niche
at the farther end of the hall were painted the divine Triad of Thebes,
with Rameses I. and his son Seti, who approached them with offerings. The
priests were placed with strict regard to their rank, and the order of
initiation. Pentaur's was the lowest place of all.

No discussion of any importance had as yet taken place, for Ameni was
making enquiries, receiving information, and giving orders with reference
to the next day's festival. All seemed to be well arranged, and promised
a magnificent solemnity; although the scribes complained of the scarce
influx of beasts from the peasants, who were so heavily taxed for the
war, and although that feature would be wanting in the procession which
was wont to give it the greatest splendor--the presence of the king and
the royal family.

This circumstance aroused the disapprobation of some of the priests, who
were of opinion that it would be hazardous to exclude the two children of
Rameses, who remained in Thebes, from any share in the solemnities of the
feast.

Ameni then rose.

"We have sent the boy Rameri," he said, "away from this house. Bent-Anat
must be purged of her uncleanness, and if the weak superior of the temple
of Anion absolves her, she may pass for purified over there, where they
live for this world only, but not here, where it is our duty to prepare
the soul for death. The Regent, a descendant of the great deposed race of
kings, will appear in the procession with all the splendor of his rank. I
see you are surprised, my friends. Only he! Aye! Great things are
stirring, and it may happen that soon the mild sun of peace may rise upon
our war-ridden people."

"Miracles are happening," he continued, "and in a dream I saw a gentle
and pious man on the throne of the earthly vicar of Ra. He listened to
our counsel, he gave us our due, and led back to our fields our serfs
that had been sent to the war; he overthrew the altars of the strange
gods, and drove the unclean stranger out from this holy land."

"The Regent Ani!" exclaimed Septah.

An eager movement stirred the assembly, but Ameni went on:

"Perhaps it was not unlike him, but he certainly was the One; he had the
features of the true and legitimate descendants of Ra, to whom Rui was
faithful, in whose breast the heart of the sacred ram found a refuge.
To-morrow this pledge of the divine grace shall be shown to the people,
and another mercy will also be announced to them. Hear and praise the
dispensations of the Most High! An hour ago I received the news that a
new Apis, with all the sacred marks upon him, has been found in the herds
of Ani at Hermonthis."

Fresh excitement was shown by the listening conclave. Ameni let their
astonishment express itself freely, but at last he exclaimed:

"And now to settle the last question. The priest Pentaur, who is now
present, has been appointed speaker at the festival to-morrow. He has
erred greatly, yet I think we need not judge him till after the holy day,
and, in consideration of his former innocence, need not deprive him of
the honorable office. Do you share my wishes? Is there no dissentient
voice? Then come forward, you, the youngest of us all, who are so highly
trusted by this holy assembly."

Pentaur rose and placed himself opposite to Ameni, in order to give, as
he was required to do, a broad outline of the speech he proposed to
deliver next day to the nobles and the people.

The whole assembly, even his opponents, listened to him with approbation.