Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  At last the pioneer's boat got off with his mother and the body of thedog, which he intended to send to be embalmed at Kynopolis, the city inwhich the dog was held sacred above all animals;

  [Kynopolis, or in old Egyptian Saka, is now Samalut; Anubis was the chief divinity worshipped there. Plutarch relates a quarrel between the inhabitants of this city, and the neighboring one of Oxyrynchos, where the fish called Oxyrynchos was worshipped. It began because the Kynopolitans eat the fish, and in revenge the Oxyrynchites caught and killed dogs, and consumed them in sacrifices. Juvenal relates a similar story of the Ombites--perhaps Koptites--and Pentyrites in the 15th Satire.]

  Paaker himself returned to the House of Seti, where, in the night whichclosed the feast day, there was always a grand banquet for the superiorpriests of the Necropolis and of the temples of eastern Thebes, for therepresentatives of other foundations, and for select dignitaries of thestate.

  His father had never failed to attend this entertainment when he wasin Thebes, but he himself had to-day for the first time received themuch-coveted honor of an invitation, which--Ameni told him when he gaveit--he entirely owed to the Regent.

  His mother had tied up his hand, which Rameri had severely hurt; it wasextremely painful, but he would not have missed the banquet at any cost,although he felt some alarm of the solemn ceremony. His family was asold as any in Egypt, his blood purer than the king's, and neverthelesshe never felt thoroughly at home in the company of superior people. Hewas no priest, although a scribe; he was a warrior, and yet he did notrank with royal heroes.

  He had been brought up to a strict fulfilment of his duty, and hedevoted himself zealously to his calling; but his habits of life werewidely different from those of the society in which he had been broughtup--a society of which his handsome, brave, and magnanimous father hadbeen a chief ornament. He did not cling covetously to his inheritedwealth, and the noble attribute of liberality was not strange to him,but the coarseness of his nature showed itself most when he was mostlavish, for he was never tired of exacting gratitude from those whom hehad attached to him by his gifts, and he thought he had earned the rightby his liberality to meet the recipient with roughness or arrogance,according to his humor. Thus it happened that his best actions procuredhim not friends but enemies.

  Paaker's was, in fact, an ignoble, that is to say, a selfish nature; toshorten his road he trod down flowers as readily as he marched over thesand of the desert. This characteristic marked him in all things,even in his outward demeanor; in the sound of his voice, in his broadfeatures, in the swaggering gait of his stumpy figure.

  In camp he could conduct himself as he pleased; but this was notpermissible in the society of his equals in rank; for this reason,and because those faculties of quick remark and repartee, whichdistinguished them, had been denied to him, he felt uneasy and out ofhis element when he mixed with them, and he would hardly have acceptedAmeni's invitation, if it had not so greatly flattered his vanity.

  It was already late; but the banquet did not begin till midnight, forthe guests, before it began, assisted at the play which was performed bylamp and torch-light on the sacred lake in the south of the Necropolis,and which represented the history of Isis and Osiris.

  When he entered the decorated hall in which the tables were prepared, hefound all the guests assembled. The Regent Ani was present, and saton Ameni's right at the top of the centre high-table at which severalplaces were unoccupied; for the prophets and the initiated of the templeof Amon had excused themselves from being present. They were faithful toRameses and his house; their grey-haired Superior disapproved of Ameni'sseverity towards the prince and princess, and they regarded the miracleof the sacred heart as a malicious trick of the chiefs of the Necropolisagainst the great temple of the capital for which Rameses had alwaysshown a preference.

  The pioneer went up to the table, where sat the general of the troopsthat had just returned victorious from Ethiopia, and several otherofficers of high rank, There was a place vacant next to the general.Paaker fixed his eyes upon this, but when he observed that the officersigned to the one next to him to come a little nearer, the pioneerimagined that each would endeavor to avoid having him for his neighbor,and with an angry glance he turned his back on the table where thewarriors sat.

  The Mohar was not, in fact, a welcome boon-companion. "The wine turnssour when that churl looks at it," said the general.

  The eyes of all the guests turned on Paaker, who looked round for aseat, and when no one beckoned him to one he felt his blood begin toboil. He would have liked to leave the banqueting hall at once with aswingeing curse. He had indeed turned towards the door, when the Regent,who had exchanged a few whispered words with Ameni, called to him,requested him to take the place that had been reserved for him, andpointed to the seat by his side, which had in fact been intended for thehigh-priest of the temple of Amon.

  Paaker bowed low, and took the place of honor, hardly daring to lookround the table, lest he should encounter looks of surprise or ofmockery. And yet he had pictured to himself his grandfather Assa, andhis father, as somewhere near this place of honor, which had actuallyoften enough been given up to them. And was he not their descendant andheir? Was not his mother Setchem of royal race? Was not the temple ofSeti more indebted to him than to any one?

  A servant laid a garland of flowers round his shoulders, and anotherhanded him wine and food. Then he raised his eyes, and met the brightand sparkling glance of Gagabu; he looked quickly down again at thetable.

  Then the Regent spoke to him, and turning to the other guests mentionedthat Paaker was on the point of starting next day for Syria, andresuming his arduous labors as Mohar. It seemed to Paaker that theRegent was excusing himself for having given him so high a place ofhonor.

  Presently Ani raised his wine-cup, and drank to the happy issue of hisreconnoitring-expedition, and a victorious conclusion to every strugglein which the Mohar might engage. The high-priest then pledged him, andthanked him emphatically in the name of the brethren of the temple, forthe noble tract of arable land which he had that morning given them asa votive offering. A murmur of approbation ran round the tables, andPaaker's timidity began to diminish.

  He had kept the wrappings that his mother had applied round his stillaching hand.

  "Are you wounded?" asked the Regent.

  "Nothing of importance," answered the pioneer. "I was helping my motherinto the boat, and it happened--"

  "It happened," interrupted an old school-fellow of the Mohar's,who himself held a high appointment as officer of the city-watch ofThebes--"It happened that an oar or a stake fell on his fingers."

  "Is it possible!" cried the Regent.

  "And quite a youngster laid hands on him," continued the officer. "Mypeople told me every detail. First the boy killed his dog--"

  "That noble Descher?" asked the master of the hunt in a tone of regret."Your father was often by my side with that dog at a boar-hunt."

  Paaker bowed his head; but the officer of the watch, secure in hisposition and dignity, and taking no notice of the glow of anger whichflushed Paaker's face, began again:

  "When the hound lay on the ground, the foolhardy boy struck your daggerout of your hand."

  "And did this squabble lead to any disturbance?" asked Ameni earnestly.

  "No," replied the officer. "The feast has passed off to-day with unusualquiet. If the unlucky interruption to the procession by that crazyparaschites had not occurred, we should have nothing but praise for thepopulace. Besides the fighting priest, whom we have handed over to you,only a few thieves have been apprehended, and they belong exclusively tothe caste,

  [According to Diodorous (I. 80) there was a cast of thieves in Thebes. All citizens were obliged to enter their names in a register, and state where they lived, and the thieves did the same. The names were enrolled by the "chief of the thieves," and all stolen goods had to be given up to him. The person robbed had to give a written desc
ription of the object he had lost, and a declaration as to when and where he had lost it. The stolen property was then easily recovered, and restored to the owner on the payment of one fourth of its value, which was given to the thief. A similar state of things existed at Cairo within a comparatively short time.]

  so we simply take their booty from them, and let them go. But say,Paaker, what devil of amiability took possession of you down by theriver, that you let the rascal escape unpunished."

  "Did you do that?" exclaimed Gagabu. "Revenge is usually your--"

  Ameni threw so warning a glance at the old man, that he suddenly brokeoff, and then asked the pioneer: "How did the struggle begin, and whowas the fellow?"

  "Some insolent people," said Paaker, "wanted to push in front of theboat that was waiting for my mother, and I asserted my rights. Therascal fell upon me, and killed my dog and--by my Osirian father!--thecrocodiles would long since have eaten him if a woman had not comebetween us, and made herself known to me as Bent-Anat, the daughter ofRameses. It was she herself, and the rascal was the young prince Rameri,who was yesterday forbidden this temple."

  "Oho!" cried the old master of the hunt. "Oho! my lord! Is this the wayto speak of the children of the king?"

  Others of the company who were attached to Pharaoh's family expressedtheir indignation; but Ameni whispered to Paaker--"Say no more!" then hecontinued aloud:

  "You never were careful in weighing your words, my friend, and now,as it seems to me, you are speaking in the heat of fever. Come here,Gagabu, and examine Paaker's wound, which is no disgrace to him--for itwas inflicted by a prince."

  The old man loosened the bandage from the pioneer's swollen hand.

  "That was a bad blow," he exclaimed; "three fingers are broken, and--doyou see?--the emerald too in your signet ring."

  Paaker looked down at his aching fingers, and uttered a sigh of rehef,for it was not the oracular ring with the name of Thotmes III., butthe valuable one given to his father by the reigning king that had beencrushed. Only a few solitary fragments of the splintered stone remainedin the setting; the king's name had fallen to pieces, and disappeared.Paaker's bloodless lips moved silently, and an inner voice cried out tohim: "The Gods point out the way! The name is gone, the bearer of thename must follow."

  "It is a pity about the ring," said Gagabu. "And if the hand is notto follow it--luckily it is your left hand--leave off drinking, letyourself be taken to Nebsecht the surgeon, and get him to set the jointsneatly, and bind them up."

  Paaker rose, and went away after Ameni had appointed to meet him on thefollowing day at the Temple of Seti, and the Regent at the palace.

  When the door had closed behind him, the treasurer of the temple said:

  "This has been a bad day for the Mohar, and perhaps it will teach himthat here in Thebes he cannot swagger as he does in the field. Anotheradventure occurred to him to-day; would you like to hear it?"

  "Yes; tell it!" cried the guests.

  "You all knew old Seni," began the treasurer. "He was a rich man, but hegave away all his goods to the poor, after his seven blooming sons, oneafter another, had died in the war, or of illness. He only kept a smallhouse with a little garden, and said that as the Gods had taken hischildren to themselves in the other world he would take pity on theforlorn in this. 'Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe thenaked' says the law; and now that Seni has nothing more to give away,he goes through the city, as you know, hungry and thirsty himself, andscarcely clothed, and begging for his adopted children, the poor. Wehave all given to him, for we all know for whom he humbles himself,and holds out his hand. To-day he went round with his little bag, andbegged, with his kind good eyes, for alms. Paaker has given us a goodpiece of arable land, and thinks, perhaps with reason, that he has donehis part. When Seni addressed him, he told him to go; but the old mandid not give up asking him, he followed him persistently to the graveof his father, and a great many people with him. Then the pioneer pushedhim angrily back, and when at last the beggar clutched his garment,he raised his whip, and struck him two or three times, crying out:'There-that is your portion!' The good old man bore it quite patiently,while he untied the bag, and said with tears in his eyes: 'Myportion--yes--but not the portion of the poor!'

  "I was standing near, and I saw how Paaker hastily withdrew into thetomb, and how his mother Setchem threw her full purse to Seni. Othersfollowed her example, and the old man never had a richer harvest. Thepoor may thank the Mohar! A crowd of people collected in front of thetomb, and he would have fared badly if it had not been for the policeguard who drove them away."

  During this narrative, which was heard with much approval--for no one ismore secure of his result than he who can tell of the downfall of a manwho is disliked for his arrogance--the Regent and the high-priest hadbeen eagerly whispering to each other.

  "There can be no doubt," said Ameni, "that Bent-Anat did actually cometo the festival."

  "And had also dealings with the priest whom you so warmly defend,"whispered the other.

  "Pentaur shall be questioned this very night," returned the high-priest."The dishes will soon be taken away, and the drinking will begin. Let usgo and hear what the poet says."

  "But there are now no witnesses," replied Ani.

  "We do not need them," said Ameni. "He is incapable of a lie."

  "Let us go then," said the Regent smiling, "for I am really curiousabout this white negro, and how he will come to terms with the truth.You have forgotten that there is a woman in the case."

  "That there always is!" answered Ameni; he called Gagabu to him, gavehim his seat, begged him to keep up the flow of cheerful conversation,to encourage the guests to drink, and to interrupt all talk of the king,the state, or the war.

  "You know," he concluded, "that we are not by ourselves this evening.Wine has, before this, betrayed everything! Remember this--the mother offoresight looks backwards!"

  Ani clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder. "There will be a spacecleared to-night in your winelofts. It is said of you that you cannotbear to see either a full glass or an empty one; to-night give youraversion to both free play. And when you think it is the right moment,give a sign to my steward, who is sitting there in the corner. He has afew jars of the best liquor from Byblos, that he brought over withhim, and he will bring it to you. I will come in again and bid yougood-night." Ameni was accustomed to leave the hall at the beginning ofthe drinking.

  When the door was closed behind him and his companion, when freshrose-garlands had been brought for the necks of the company, when lotusblossoms decorated their heads, and the beakers were refilled, a choirof musicians came in, who played on harps, lutes, flutes, and smalldrums. The conductor beat the time by clapping his hands, and when themusic had raised the spirits of the drinkers, they seconded his effortsby rhythmical clippings. The jolly old Gagabu kept up his character as astout drinker, and leader of the feast.

  The most priestly countenances soon beamed with cheerfulness, and theofficers and courtiers outdid each other in audacious jokes. Then theold man signed to a young temple-servant, who wore a costly wreath; hecame forward with a small gilt image of a mummy, carried it round thecircle and cried:

  "Look at this, be merry and drink so long as you are on earth, for soonyou must be like this."

  [A custom mentioned by Herodotus. Lucian saw such an image brought in at a feast. The Greeks adopted the idea, but beautified it, using a winged Genius of death instead of a mummy. The Romans also had their "larva."]

  Gagabu gave another signal, and the Regent's steward brought in the winefrom Byblos. Ani was much lauded for the wonderful choiceness of theliquor.

  "Such wine," exclaimed the usually grave chief of the pastophori, "islike soap."

  [This comparison is genuinely Eastern. Kisra called wine "the soap of sorrow." The Mohammedans, to whom wine is forbidden, have praised it like the guests of the House of Seti. Thus Abdelmalik ibn Salih Haschimi says: "The best thing the world enjoy
s is wine." Gahiz says: "When wine enters thy bones and flows through thy limbs it bestows truth of feeling, and perfects the soul; it removes sorrow, elevates the mood, etc., etc." When Ibn 'Aischah was told that some one drank no wine, he said: "He has thrice disowned the world." Ibn el Mu'tazz sang:

  "Heed not time, how it may linger, or how swiftly take its flight, Wail thy sorrows only to the wine before thee gleaming bright. But when thrice thou st drained the beaker watch and ward keep o'er thy heart. Lest the foam of joy should vanish, and thy soul with anguish smart, This for every earthly trouble is a sovereign remedy, Therefore listen to my counsel, knowing what will profit thee, Heed not time, for ah, how many a man has longed in pain Tale of evil days to lighten--and found all his longing vain." --Translated by Mary J. Safford.]

  "What a simile!" cried Gagabu. "You must explain it."

  "It cleanses the soul of sorrow," answered the other. "Good, friend!"they all exclaimed. "Now every one in turn shall praise the noble juicein some worthy saying."

  "You begin--the chief prophet of the temple of Atnenophis."

  "Sorrow is a poison," said the priest, "and wine is the antidote."

  "Well said!--go on; it is your turn, my lord privy councillor."

  "Every thing has its secret spring," said the official, "and wine is thesecret of joy."

  "Now you, my lord keeper of the seal."

  "Wine seals the door on discontent, and locks the gates on sorrow."

  "That it does, that it certainly does!--Now the governor of Hermothis,the oldest of all the company."

  "Wine ripens especially for us old folks, and not for you young people."

  "That you must explain," cried a voice from the table of the militaryofficers.

  "It makes young men of the old," laughed the octogenarian, "and childrenof the young."

  "He has you there, you youngsters," cried Gagabu. "What have you to say,Septah?"

  "Wine is a poison," said the morose haruspex, "for it makes fools ofwise men."

  "Then you have little to fear from it, alas!" said Gagabu laughing."Proceed, my lord of the chase."

  "The rim of the beaker," was the answer, "is like the lip of the womanyou love. Touch it, and taste it, and it is as good as the kiss of abride."

  "General--the turn is yours."

  "I wish the Nile ran with such wine instead of with water," cried thesoldier, "and that I were as big as the colossus of Atnenophis, and thatthe biggest obelisk of Hatasu were my drinking vessel, and that I mightdrink as much as I would! But now--what have you to say of this nobleliquor, excellent Gagabu?"

  The second prophet raised his beaker, and gazed lovingly at the goldenfluid; he tasted it slowly, and then said with his eyes turned toheaven:

  "I only fear that I am unworthy to thank the Gods for such a divineblessing."

  "Well said!" exclaimed the Regent Ani, who had re-entered the roomunobserved. "If my wine could speak, it would thank you for such aspeech."

  "Hail to the Regent Ani!" shouted the guests, and they all rose withtheir cups filled with his noble present.

  He pledged them and then rose.

  "Those," said he, "who have appreciated this wine, I now invite to dinewith me to-morrow. You will then meet with it again, and if you stillfind it to your liking, you will be heartily welcome any evening. Now,good night, friends."

  A thunder of applause followed him, as he quitted the room.

  The morning was already grey, when the carousing-party broke up; few ofthe guests could find their way unassisted through the courtyard; mostof them had already been carried away by the slaves, who had waited forthem--and who took them on their heads, like bales of goods--and hadbeen borne home in their litters; but for those who remained to the end,couches were prepared in the House of Seti, for a terrific storm was nowraging.

  While the company were filling and refilling the beakers, which raisedtheir spirits to so wild a pitch, the prisoner Pentaur had been examinedin the presence of the Regent. Ameni's messenger had found the poeton his knees, so absorbed in meditation that he did not perceive hisapproach. All his peace of mind had deserted him, his soul was in atumult, and he could not succeed in obtaining any calm and clear controlover the new life-pulses which were throbbing in his heart.

  He had hitherto never gone to rest at night without requiring of himselfan account of the past day, and he had always been able to detect themost subtle line that divided right from wrong in his actions. Butto-night he looked back on a perplexing confusion of ideas and events,and when he endeavored to sort them and arrange them, he could seenothing clearly but the image of Bent-Anat, which enthralled his heartand intellect.

  He had raised his hand against his fellow-men, and dipped it in blood,he desired to convince himself of his sin, and to repent but he couldnot; for each time he recalled it, to blame and condemn himself, hesaw the soldier's hand twisted in Uarda's hair, and the princess's eyesbeaming with approbation, nay with admiration, and he said to himselfthat he had acted rightly, and in the same position would do the sameagain to-morrow. Still he felt that he had broken through all theconditions with which fate had surrounded his existence, and it seemedto him that he could never succeed in recovering the still, narrow, butpeaceful life of the past.

  His soul went up in prayer to the Almighty One, and to the spirit of thesweet humble woman whom he had called his mother, imploring for peaceof mind and modest content; but in vain--for the longer he remainedprostrate, flinging up his arms in passionate entreaty, the keener grewhis longings, the less he felt able to repent or to recognize his guilt.Ameni's order to appear before him came almost as a deliverance, andhe followed the messenger prepared for a severe punishment; but notafraid--almost joyful.

  In obedience to the command of the grave high-priest, Pentaur relatedthe whole occurrence--how, as there was no leech in the house, hehad gone with the old wife of the paraschites to visit her possessedhusband; how, to save the unhappy girl from ill-usage by the mob, he hadraised his hand in fight, and dealt indeed some heavy blows.

  "You have killed four men," said Ameni, "and severely wounded twice asmany. Why did you not reveal yourself as a priest, as the speaker ofthe morning's discourse? Why did you not endeavor to persuade the peoplewith words of warning, rather than with brute force?"

  "I had no priest's garment," replied Pentaur. "There again you didwrong," said Ameni, "for you know that the law requires of each ofus never to leave this house without our white robes. But you cannotpretend not to know your own powers of speech, nor to contradict me whenI assert that, even in the plainest working-dress, you were perfectlyable to produce as much effect with words as by deadly blows!" "I mightvery likely have succeeded," answered Pentaur, "but the most savagetemper ruled the crowd; there was no time for reflection, and when Istruck down the villain, like some reptile, who had seized the innocentgirl, the lust of fighting took possession of me. I cared no more for myown life, and to save the child I would have slain thousands."

  "Your eyes sparkle," said Ameni, "as if you had performed some heroicfeat; and yet the men you killed were only unarmed and pious citizens,who were roused to indignation by a gross and shameless outrage. Icannot conceive whence the warrior-spirit should have fallen on agardener's son--and a minister of the Gods."

  "It is true," answered Pentaur, "when the crowd rushed upon me, and Idrove them back, putting out all my strength, I felt something of thewarlike rage of the soldier, who repulses the pressing foe from thestandard committed to his charge. It was sinful in a priest, no doubt,and I will repent of it--but I felt it."

  "You felt it--and you will repent of it, well and good," replied Ameni."But you have not given a true account of all that happened. Why haveyou concealed that Bent-Anat--Rameses' daughter--was mixed up in thefray, and that she saved you by announcing her name to the people, andcommanding them to leave you alone? When you gave her the lie before allthe people, was it because you did not believe that it was Bent-Anat?Now, you who stand so
firmly on so high a platform--now youstandard-bearer of the truth answer me."

  Pentaur had turned pale at his master's words, and said, as he looked atthe Regent:

  "We are not alone."

  "Truth is one!" said Ameni coolly. "What you can reveal to me, can alsobe heard by this noble lord, the Regent of the king himself. Did yourecognize Bent-Anat, or not?"

  "The lady who rescued me was like her, and yet unlike," answered thepoet, whose blood was roused by the subtle irony of his Superior'swords. "And if I had been as sure that she was the princess, as I amthat you are the man who once held me in honor, and who are now tryingto humiliate me, I would all the more have acted as I did to sparea lady who is more like a goddess than a woman, and who, to save anunworthy wretch like me, stooped from a throne to the dust."

  "Still the poet--the preacher!" said Ameni. Then he added severely. "Ibeg for a short and clear answer. We know for certain that the princesstook part in the festival in the disguise of a woman of low rank, forshe again declared herself to Paaker; and we know that it was she whosaved you. But did you know that she meant to come across the Nile?"

  "How should I?" asked Pentaur.

  "Well, did you believe that it was Bent-Anat whom you saw before youwhen she ventured on to the scene of conflict?"

  "I did believe it," replied Pentaur; he shuddered and cast down hiseyes.

  "Then it was most audacious to drive away the king's daughter as animpostor."

  "It was," said Pentaur. "But for my sake she had risked the honor of hername, and that of her royal father, and I--I should not have risked mylife and freedom for--"

  "We have heard enough," interrupted Ameni.

  "Not so," the Regent interposed. "What became of the girl you hadsaved?"

  "An old witch, Hekt by name, a neighbor of Pinem's, took her and hergrandmother into her cave," answered the poet; who was then, by thehigh-priest's order, taken back to the temple-prison.

  Scarcely had he disappeared when the Regent exclaimed:

  "A dangerous man! an enthusiast! an ardent worshipper of Rameses!"

  "And of his daughter," laughed Ameni, "but only a worshipper. Thou hastnothing to fear from him--I will answer for the purity of his motives."

  "But he is handsome and of powerful speech," replied Ani. "I claim himas my prisoner, for he has killed one of my soldiers."

  Ameni's countenance darkened, and he answered very sternly:

  "It is the exclusive right of our conclave, as established by ourcharter, to judge any member of this fraternity. You, the future king,have freely promised to secure our privileges to us, the champions ofyour own ancient and sacred rights."

  "And you shall have them," answered the Regent with a persuasive smile."But this man is dangerous, and you would not have him go unpunished."

  "He shall be severely judged," said Ameni, "but by us and in thishouse."

  "He has committed murder!" cried Ani. "More than one murder. He isworthy of death."

  "He acted under pressure of necessity," replied Ameni. "And a man sofavored by the Gods as he, is not to be lightly given up because anuntimely impulse of generosity prompted him to rash conduct. I know--Ican see that you wish him ill. Promise me, as you value me as an ally,that you will not attempt his life."

  "Oh, willingly!" smiled the Regent, giving the high-priest his hand.

  "Accept my sincere thanks," said Ameni. "Pentaur was the most promisingof my disciples, and in spite of many aberrations I still esteem himhighly. When he was telling us of what had occurred to-day, did he notremind you of the great Assa, or of his gallant son, the Osirian fatherof the pioneer Paaker?"

  "The likeness is extraordinary," answered Ani, "and yet he is of quitehumble birth. Who was his mother?"

  "Our gate-keeper's daughter, a plain, pious, simple creature."

  "Now I will return to the banqueting hall," said Ani, after a fetemoments of reflection. "But I must ask you one thing more. I spoke toyou of a secret that will put Paaker into our power. The old sorceressHekt, who has taken charge of the paraschites' wife and grandchild,knows all about it. Send some policeguards over there, and let her bebrought over here as a prisoner; I will examine her myself, and so canquestion her without exciting observation."

  Ameni at once sent off a party of soldiers, and then quietly ordered afaithful attendant to light up the so-called audience-chamber, and toput a seat for him in an adjoining room.