The prince laughed at the report.

"I have good sight," said he, "but I could not see an army at that distance."

The priests, after they had counseled together, informed the prince that if he would bind himself not to tell the uninitiated what he saw he would learn that it was possible to see at great distances.

Ramses took an oath. The priests placed the altar of Amon on a height, and began prayers. When the prince had washed, removed his sandals, offered to the god a gold chain and incense, they conducted him to a small box which was perfectly dark and told him to look at one wall of it.

After a while sacred hymns were intoned during which a bright circle appeared on the box. Soon the bright color grew darker; the prince saw a sandy plain, in the midst of it cliffs, and near them an Asiatic outpost.

The priests sang with more animation and the picture changed. Another patch of the desert was visible, and on it a group of people who looked no larger than ants. Still the movements and dress, and even the faces of the persons were so definite that the prince could describe them.

The astonishment of the heir knew no bounds. He rubbed his eyes, touched the moving picture. Suddenly he turned away his face; the picture vanished and darkness remained.

When he went out of the chapel the elder priest asked him,

"Well, Erpatr, dost Thou believe now in the might of the gods of Egypt?"

"Indeed," answered he, "ye are such great sages that the whole world ought to give you offerings and homage. If ye can see the future in an equal degree nothing can oppose you."

After these words a priest entered the chapel and began to pray; soon a voice was heard from the chapel, saying,

"Ramses! the fates of the kingdom are weighed, and before another full moon comes Thou wilt be its ruler."

"O gods!" cried the terrified prince. "Is my father so sick, then?"

He fell on his face in the sand; then an assisting priest inquired if he did not wish to learn something more.

"Tell me, Father Amon, whether my plans will be accomplished."

After a while a voice spoke in the chapel.

"If Thou begin no war in the east, if Thou give offerings to the gods and respect their servants, a long life awaits thee, and a reign full of glory."

After the miracles which had happened on the open field, in the open day, the excited prince returned to his tent.

"Nothing can resist the priests," thought he in fear.

He found Pentuer in the tent.

"Tell me, my counselor," said he, "whether priests can read the heart of a man and unveil his secret purpose."

Pentuer shook his head.

"Sooner," answered he, "will man see what there is in the centre of a cliff than read the heart of another man. It is even closed to the gods, and death alone can discover its secrets."

Ramses drew a deep sigh of relief, but he could not free himself from fear. When, toward evening, it was necessary to call a military council, he summoned Mentezufis and Pentuer.

No one mentioned the sudden death of Patrokles; perhaps because there was more urgent business; for Libyan envoys had come imploring in the name of Musawasa mercy for his son Tehenna, and offering to Egypt surrender and peace forever.

"Evil men," said one of the envoys, "tempted our people saying that Egypt was weak; that her pharaoh was the shadow of a ruler. But yesterday we learned how strong your arm is, and we consider it wiser to yield and pay you tribute than expose our people to certain death and our property to ruin."

When the military council had heard this speech the Libyans were sent from the tent, and Prince Ramses asked the holy Mentezufis directly for his opinions; this astonished even the generals.

"Only yesterday," said the worthy prophet, "I should have been glad to refuse the prayer of Musawasa, transfer the war to Libya, and destroy that nest of robbers. But today I have received such important news from Memphis that I will vote for mercy to the conquered."

"Is his holiness, my father, sick?" inquired the prince, with deep emotion.

"He is sick. But till we finish with the Libyans Thou must not think of his holiness."

When the heir dropped his head in sadness, Mentezufis added,

"I must perform one more duty. Yesterday, worthy prince, I made bold to offer a judgment that for such a wretched captive as Tehenna, a chief should not leave his army. Today I see that I was mistaken, for if Thou hadst not seized Tehenna we should not have this early peace with Musawasa. Thy wisdom, chief, has proved higher than military regulations."

The prince was arrested by this compunction on the part of Mentezufis.

"Why does he speak thus?" thought he. "It is evident that Amon is not alone in knowing of my holy father's illness."

And in the soul of the heir the old feelings were roused, contempt for the priests and distrust of their miracles.

"So it was not the gods who told me that I should soon become pharaoh, but the news came from Memphis, and the priests tricked me in the chapel! But if they lie in one thing, who will assure me that those views of the desert shown on the wall were not deceit also?"

Since the prince was silent all the time, which was attributed to his sorrow because of his father's illness, and the generals did not dare to say anything after the decisive words of Mentezufis, the military council ended. A unanimous decision was made to stop the war, take the very highest tribute from the Libyans, and send them an Egyptian garrison.

All expected now that the pharaoh would die. But Egypt, to celebrate a funeral worthy of its ruler, needed profound peace.

When leaving the tent of the military council the prince said to Mentezufis,

"The valiant Patrokles died last night; do ye holy fathers think to show his remains honor?"

"He was a barbarian and a great sinner," said the priest, "but he rendered such famous services to Egypt that it is proper to assure life beyond the grave to him. If Thou permit, worthiness, we will send the body of that man this day to Memphis, so as to make a mummy of it, and take it to an eternal dwelling in Thebes among the retreats of the pharaohs."

The prince consented willingly, but his suspicions rose.

"Yesterday," thought he, "Mentezufis threatened me as he might a lazy pupil, and it was even a favor of the gods that he did not beat my back with a stick; but today he speaks to me like an obedient son to a father, and almost falls on his breast before me. Is this a sign that power is drawing near my tent, and also the hour of reckoning?"

Thus thinking, the prince increased in pride, and his heart was filled with greater wrath against the priesthood. Wrath which was the worse for being silent like a scorpion which has hidden in the sand and maims the incautious foot with its biting sting.



CHAPTER XLVI

AT night the sentries gave notice that a throng of Libyans imploring mercy had entered the valley. Indeed the light of their fires was visible on the desert.

At sunrise the trumpets were sounded, and all the Egyptian forces were drawn up under arms on the widest part of the valley. According to command of the prince, who wished to increase the fright of the Libyans the carriers were arranged between the ranks of the army, and men on asses were disposed among the cavalry. So it happened that the Egyptians seemed as numerous as sands in the desert, and the Libyans were as timid as doves, over which a falcon is soaring.

At nine in the morning his gilded war chariot stood before the tent of the viceroy. The horses bearing ostrich plumes reared so that two men had to hold each of them.

Ramses came out of his tent, took his place in the chariot, and seized the reins himself, while the place of the charioteer was occupied by the priest Pentuer, who held now the position of counselor. One of the commanders carried a large green parasol over the prince; behind, and on both sides of the chariot, marched Greek officers in gilded armor. At a certain distance behind the prince's retinue came a small division of the guard, in the midst of it Tehenna, son of the Libyan chief Musawasa.

A few hundred paces from the Egyptians, at the entrance of the ravine, stood the gloomy crowd of Libyans imploring the conqueror's favor.

When Ramses came with his suite to the eminence where he was to receive the envoys of the enemy, the army raised such a shout in his honor that the cunning Musawasa was still more mortified, and whispered to the Libyan elders,

"I say to you, that is the cry of an army which loves its commander."

Then one of the most restless of the Libyan chiefs, a great robber, said to Musawasa,

"Dost Thou not think that in a moment like this we should be wiser to trust to the swiftness of our horses than to the kindness of the pharaoh's son? He must be a raging lion, which tears the skin even when stroking it, while we are like lambs snatched away from our mothers."

"Do as may please thee," replied Musawasa, "Thou hast the whole desert before thee. But the people sent me to redeem their faults, and above all I have a son, Tehenna, on whom the prince will pour out his wrath unless I win favor."

To the crowd of Libyans galloped up two Asiatic horsemen, who declared that their lord was waiting for submission.

Musawasa sighed bitterly and went toward the height on which the conqueror had halted. Never before had he made such a painful journey. Coarse linen used by penitents covered his back imperfectly; on his head, sprinkled with ashes, the heat of the sun was burning; sharp pebbles cut his naked feet, and his heart was crushed by his own sorrow and that of his people.

He had advanced barely a few hundred paces, but he was forced to halt a couple of times to rest and recover. He looked backward frequently to be sure that the naked slaves carrying gifts to the prince were not stealing gold chains, or what was worse, stealing jewels. For Musawasa knowing life, knew that man is glad to make use of his neighbor's misfortune.

"I thank the gods," said the cunning barbarian, comforting himself in mishap, "that the lot has come to me of humbling myself to a prince who may put on the pharaoh's cap any moment. The rulers of Egypt are magnanimous, especially in time of triumph. If I succeed then in moving my lord he will strengthen my position in Libya, and permit me to collect a multitude of taxes. It is a real miracle that the heir to the throne himself seized Tehenna; and not only will he not do him wrong, but he will cover him with dignities." Thus he thought and looked behind continually, for a slave, though naked, may conceal a stolen jewel in his mouth, and even swallow it.

At thirty steps from the chariot of the heir Musawasa and those who were with him, the foremost of the Libyans, fell upon their faces and lay on the sand till command to rise was given them through the prince's adjutant. When they had approached a few steps they fell again; later they fell a third time, and rose only at command of Ramses.

During this interval Pentuer, standing at the prince's chariot, whispered to his lord,

"Let thy countenance show neither harshness nor delight. Be calm, like the god Amon, who despises his enemies and delights in no common triumphs."

At last the penitent Libyans stood before the face of the prince, who looked at them as a fierce hippopotamus at ducklings which have no place to hide before his mightiness.

"Art Thou he?" asked Ramses, suddenly. "Art Thou that Musawasa, the wise Libyan leader?"

"I am thy servant," answered Musawasa, and he threw himself on the ground again.

When they ordered him to rise, the prince said,

"How couldst Thou commit such a grievous sin, and raise thy hand against the kingdom of the gods? Has thy former wisdom deserted thee?"

"Lord," answered the wily Libyan, "sorrow disturbed the reason of the disbanded warriors of his holiness, so they ran to their own destruction, drawing me and mine after them. And the gods alone know how long this dreadful war might have lasted if at the head of the army of the ever living pharaoh, Amon himself had not appeared in thy semblance. Thou didst fall on us like a storm wind of the desert, when Thou wert not expected, where Thou wert not expected, and as a bull breaks a reed so didst Thou crush thy blinded opponent. All people then understood that even the terrible regiments of Libya had value only while thy hand sent them forward."

"Thou speakest wisely, Musawasa," said the viceroy, "and Thou hast done still better to meet thus the army of the divine pharaoh, instead of waiting till it came to thee. But I should be glad to know how sincere thy obedience is."

"Let thy countenance be radiant, great potentate of Egypt," [An inscription on the monument of Horem-Hep, 1470 years B. c.] answered Musawasa. "We come to thee as subjects, may thy name be great in Libya, be Thou our sun, as Thou art the sun of nine nations. Only command thy subordinates to be just to us the conquered people who are joined to thy power. Let thy officials govern us justly and with conscience, and not according to their own evil wishes, reporting falsely concerning our people, and rousing thy disfavor against us and our children. Command them, O viceroy of the victorious pharaoh, to govern according to thy will, sparing our freedom, our property, our language, and the customs of our ancestors and fathers.

"Let thy laws be equal for all subjects, let not thy officials favor some too much and be too harsh toward others; let their sentences be of the same kind for all. Let them collect the tribute predestined for thy needs and for thy use, but let them not take secretly other tributes which never go into thy treasury, and enrich only thy servants and the servants of those servants.

"Command them to govern without injustice to us and our children, for Thou art to us a deity and a ruler forever. Imitate the sun, which sends his light to all and gives life and strength to them. We, thy Libyan subjects, implore thy favor and fall on our faces before thee, O heir of the great and mighty pharaoh."

So spoke the crafty Libyan prince, Musawasa, and after he had finished speaking he prostrated himself again. But when the pharaoh's heir heard these wise words his eyes glittered, and his nostrils dilated like those of a young stallion which after good feeding runs to a field where mares are at pasture.

"Rise, Musawasa, and listen to what I tell thee. Thy fate and that of thy people depend not on me, but on that gracious lord who towers above us all, as the sky above the earth. I advise thee, then, to go and to take Libyan elders hence to Memphis, and, falling on thy face before the leader and the god in this world, to repeat the humble prayer, which I have heard here from thee.

"I know not what the effect of thy prayer will be; but since the gods never turn from him who implores and is repentant, I have a feeling that Thou wilt not meet a bad reception.

"And now show me the gifts intended for his holiness, so that I may judge whether they will move the heart of the all-powerful pharaoh."

At this moment Mentezufis gave a sign to Pentuer who was standing on the prince's chariot.

When Pentuer descended and approached the holy man with honor, Mentezufis whispered,

"I fear lest the triumph may rise to the head of our young lord over much. Dost Thou not think it would be wise to interrupt the solemnity in some way?"

"On the contrary," answered Pentuer, "do not interrupt the solemnity, and I guarantee that he will not have a joyous face."

"Thou wilt perform a miracle."

"If I succeed I shall merely show him that in this world great delight is attended by deep suffering."

"Do as Thou wishest," said Mentezufis, "for the gods have given thee wisdom worthy a member of the highest council."

Trumpets and drums were heard, and the triumphal review began.

At the head of it went naked slaves bearing gifts. Rich Libyans guarded these bondmen who carried gold and silver divinities, boxes filled with perfumes, enameled vessels, stuffs, furniture, finally gold dishes dotted with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. The slaves who bore these had shaven heads and were gagged lest some one of them might steal a costly jewel.

Ramses rested both hands on the edge of the chariot and looked from the height of the hill at the Libyans, and at his own men, as a golden- headed eagle looks down on many colored partridges. Pride filled the prince from foot to head, and all present felt that it was impossible to have more power than was possessed by that victorious commander.

But in one instant the prince's eyes lost their brightness, and on his face the bitterest surprise was depicted. Pentuer was standing near him,

"Bend thy ear, lord," whispered he. "Since Thou hast left Pi-Bast wondrous changes have taken place there. Thy Phoenician woman, Kama, has fled with Lykon."

"With Lykon?" repeated the prince.

"Move not, Erpatr, and show not to thousands that Thou feelest sorrow in the day of thy triumph."

Now there passed below the prince an endless line of Libyans with fruit and bread in baskets, as well as wine and olive oil in roomy pitchers for the army. At sight of this a murmur of delight was spread among the warriors, but Ramses, occupied with Pentuer's story, took no note of what was passing.

"The gods," said the prophet in a whisper, "have punished the traitorous Kama."

"Is she caught?" inquired the prince.

"She is caught, but they have sent her to the eastern colony, because leprosy attacked her."

"O gods!" whispered Ramses. "But may it not threaten me?"

"Be calm, lord; if it had infected thee Thou wouldst be leprous this moment."

The prince felt a chill in every member. How easy for the gods to thrust a man down from the highest summits to the depths of the lowest misery!

"And Lykon?"

"He is a great criminal," said Pentuer; "a criminal of such kind that the earth has given few such."

"I know him. He is as like me as a reflection of me in a mirror," replied Ramses.

Now came a crowd of Libyans leading strange animals. At the head of these was a one-humped camel with white hair, one of the first which they had caught in the desert, next two rhinoceroses, a herd of horses, and a tame lion caged. Then a multitude of cages holding birds of various colors, monkeys, and small dogs intended for court ladies. Behind them were driven great herds of cattle, and flocks of sheep as food for the pharaoh's army.

The prince cast an eye on the moving menagerie, and asked the priest,

"But is Lykon caught?"

"I will tell thee now the worst news, unhappy lord," whispered Pentuer. "But remember that the enemies of Egypt must not notice grief in thee."

The heir moved.

"Thy second woman, Sarah the Jewess."

"Has she run away too?"

"She died in prison."

"O gods! Who dared imprison her?"

"She confessed that she killed thy son."

"What?"

A great cry was heard at the prince's feet: the Libyan prisoners captured in battle were marching past, and at the head of them the sorrowful Tehenna.

Ramses had at that moment a heart so full of pain that he nodded to Tehenna, and said,

"Stand near thy father Musawasa, so that he may touch thee, and see thee living."

At these words all the Libyans and the whole army gave forth a mighty shout; but the prince did not hear it.

"Is my son dead?" asked he of the priest. "Sarah accused herself of child-murder? Did madness fall on her?"

"The vile Lykon slew thy son."

"O gods give me strength!" groaned Ramses.

"Restrain thyself, lord, as becomes a victorious leader."

"Is it possible to conquer such pain? O gods without pity!"

"Lykon slew thy son; Sarah accused herself to save thee, for seeing the murderer in the night she mistook him for thee."

"And I thrust her out of my house! And I made her a servant of the Phoenician!"

Now appeared Egyptian warriors bearing baskets filled with hands which had been cut from the fallen Libyans.

At sight of this Ramses hid his face and wept bitterly.

The generals surrounded the chariot at once and gave their lord consolation. The holy Mentezufis made a proposition which was received immediately, that thenceforth the Egyptian army would not cut off the hands of enemies who had fallen in battle.

With this unforeseen incident ended the first triumph of the heir to the throne of Egypt. But the tears which he shed over the severed hands attached the Libyans to him more than the victorious battle. No one wondered then that around the fires Libyan and Egyptian warriors sat in concord sharing bread, and drinking wine from the same goblet. Instead of wars which were to last for years, there was a deep feeling of peace and confidence.

Ramses gave command that Musawasa, Tehenna, and the foremost Libyans should go to Memphis straightway, and he gave them an escort, not so much to watch them as to safeguard their persons and the treasures which they were taking. The prince withdrew to a tent then, and did not appear again until a number of hours had passed. He was like a man to whom pain is the dearest companion. He did not receive even Tutmosis.

Toward evening a deputation of Greeks appeared under the leadership of Kalippos. When the heir asked what their wish was Kalippos answered,

"We have come, lord, to implore that the body of our leader, thy servant Patrokles, should not be given to Egyptian priests, but be burned in accord with Greek usage."

The prince was astonished.

"Is it known to you," asked he, "that the priests wish to make of the remains of Patrokles a mummy of the first order, and to put it near the graves of the pharaohs? Can honor greater than this meet a man anywhere?"

The Greeks hesitated; at last Kalippos took courage and answered,

"Our lord, permit us to open our hearts to thee. We know well that the making of a mummy is of more profit to a man than to burn him, for the soul of a burned man is transferred to eternal regions immediately; the soul of a mummied man may live during thousands of years on this earth and enjoy its beauties.

"But the Egyptian priests, O chief, let this not offend thy ears hated Patrokles. Who will assure us, then, that these priests in making him a mummy are not detaining him on earth so as to subject him to tortures? And what would our worth be if we who suspect revenge did not protect from it the soul of our compatriot and leader?"

Great was the prince's astonishment.

"Do," said he, "as ye think proper."

"But if they will not give us the body?"

"Prepare the funeral pile; I will attend to the rest of the ceremony."

The Greeks left the tent. The prince sent for Mentezufis.



CHAPTER XLVII

THE priest observed the heir stealthily, and found him much changed. Ramses was pale; he had almost grown thin in a few hours; his eyes had lost their glitter and had sunk beneath his forehead.

When Mentezufis heard what the Greeks had in mind he did not hesitate a moment to surrender the body of Patrokles.

"The Greeks are right," said the holy man, "in thinking that we have power to torment the shade of Patrokles, but they are fools to suppose that any priest of Chaldea or Egypt would permit such a crime. Let them take the body of their compatriot, if they think that after death he will be happier under protection of their own rites."

The prince sent an officer straightway with the needful order, but he detained Mentezufis. Evidently he wished to say something to him, though he hesitated.

After some silence Ramses asked suddenly,

"Thou knowest, of course, holy prophet, that one of my women, Sarah, is dead, and that her son was murdered?"

"That happened," said Mentezufis, "the night that we marched from Pi- Bast."

The prince sprang up.

"By the eternal Amon!" cried he. "Did that take place so long ago, and ye did not mention it? Ye did not even tell me that I was suspected of murdering my own son?"

"Lord," said the priest, "the leader of an army in the day before battle has neither son nor father; he has no one whatever save the army and the enemy. Could we in extreme moments disturb thee with such tidings?"

"That is true," replied the prince, after some thought. "If we were attacked today I am not sure that I could command the army. In general I am not sure of my power to regain peace of mind.

"Such a little such a beautiful child! And that woman who sacrificed herself for me after I had wronged her grievously. Never have I thought that misfortunes of such sort could happen, and that people's hearts could endure them."

"Time heals time and prayer," whispered the priest.

The prince nodded, and again there was such silence in the tent that the dropping of sand in the hour glass was audible.

Again the heir rallied,

"Tell me, holy father," said he, "unless it belongs to the great secrets, what is the real difference between burning the dead and the making of mummies? for though I have heard something at school I do not understand clearly this question, to which the Greeks attach such importance."

"We attach far more, the greatest importance to this question," replied Mentezufis. "To this our cities of the dead testify; they occupy a whole region in the western desert. The pyramids testify to it also; they are the tombs of the pharaohs of the ancient kingdom, and the immense tombs which are cut in cliffs for the rulers of our period.

"Burial and the tomb are of great importance the very greatest human importance. For while we live in bodily form fifty or a hundred years, our shades endure tens of thousands till they are perfectly purified.

"The Assyrian barbarians laugh at us, saying that we give more to the dead than the living; but they would weep over their own lack of care for the dead did they know the mystery of death and the tomb as do the priests of Egypt."

The prince started up.

"Thou dost terrify me," said he. "Dost forget that among the dead there are two beings dear to me, and these are not buried according to Egyptian ritual."

"On the contrary. Just now men are embalming them. Both Sarah and thy son will have everything which may profit them in the long journey."

"Will they?" asked Ramses, as if comforted.

"I guarantee," answered Mentezufis, "that everything will be done which is needed, and should this earthly life ever be unpleasant to thee Thou wilt find them happy in the other."

On hearing this Ramses was greatly affected.

"Then dost Thou think, holy man," inquired he, "that I shall find my son some time, and that I shall be able to say to that woman: 'Sarah, I know that I have been too harsh to thee?'"

"I am as certain of it as that I see thee now, worthy lord," replied the prophet.

"Speak, speak of this!" exclaimed the prince. "A man does not think of the grave till he has put a part of himself there. This misfortune has struck me, and struck just when I thought myself more powerful than any save the pharaoh."

"Thou hast inquired, lord," began Mentezufis, "as to the difference between burning the dead and embalming them. We find the same difference that there is between destroying a garment and preserving it in a closet. When the garment is preserved it may be of use frequently; and if a man has only one garment it would be madness to burn it."

"I do not understand this," interrupted Ramses. "Ye do not explain it even in the higher schools."

"But we can tell it to the heir of the pharaoh. Thou knowest, worthiness," continued the priest, "that a human being is composed of three parts: the body, the divine spark, and the shade, or Ka, which connects the body and the divine spark.

"When a man dies his shade separates from his body as does the divine spark. If the man lives without sin the divine spark and the shade appear among the gods to live through eternity. But each man sins, stains himself in this world; therefore his shade, the Ka, must purify itself, for thousands of years sometimes. It purifies itself in this way, that being invisible it wanders over our earth among people and does good in its wandering, though the shades of criminals, even in life beyond the grave, commit offences, and at last destroy themselves and the divine spark contained in them.

"Now and this is no secret for thee, worthiness this shade, the Ka, is like a man, but looks as though made of most delicate mist. The shade has a head, hands, body, it can walk, speak, throw things or carry them, it dresses like a man, and even, especially during a few hundred of the earlier years after death, must take some food at intervals. But the shade obtains its main strength from the body which remains on the earth here. Therefore if we throw a body into a grave it spoils quickly and the shade must satisfy itself with dust and decay. If we burn the body the shade has nothing but ashes with which to gain strength. But if we embalm the body, or preserve it for thousands of years the shade Ka is always healthy and strong; it passes the time of purification in calmness, and even agreeably."

"Wonderful things!" whispered the heir.

"Priests in the course of investigations during thousands of years have learned important details of life beyond the grave. They have convinced themselves that if the viscera are left in the body of a dead man, his shade, the Ka, has a great appetite, and needs as much food as a man during earthly existence, and if food is withheld it will rush at living people and suck the blood out of them. But if the viscera are removed from the body, as we remove them, the shade lives on without food almost: its own body, embalmed and filled with plants which are strongly fragrant, suffices it for millions of years.

"It has been verified, also, that if the tomb of a dead man is empty the shade yearns for the world and wanders about in it needlessly. But if we place in a mortuary chapel the clothing, furniture, arms, vessels, utensils, things pleasant during life to the dead man, if the walls are covered with paintings depicting feasts, hunts, divine services, wars, and, in general, events in which the departed took share, if besides we add statues of members of his family, servants, horses, dogs and cattle, the shade will not go out to the world without need, for it will find what it wants in the house of the dead with its mummy.

"Finally they have convinced themselves that many shades, even after penance is finished, could not enter regions of endless bliss since they know not the needful prayers, incantations, and conversations with gods. We provide for that by winding the mummies in papyruses, on which are written sentences, and by putting the 'Book of the Dead' in their coffins.

"In one word, our funeral ritual assures strength to the shade, preserves it from misfortunes and yearnings after earth, facilitates its entrance to the company of gods, and secures living people from every harm which shades might inflict on them. Our great care of the dead has this in view specially; hence we erect for them almost palaces and in them dwellings with the greatest ornaments."

The prince thought awhile, but said finally,

"I understand that ye show great kindness to weak and defenseless shades by caring for them in this manner. But who will assure me that there are shades?"

"That there is a waterless desert," said the priest, "I know, for I see it, I have sunk in its sands and felt heat in it. That there are countries in which water turns to stone, and steam into white down, I know also, for credible witnesses have informed me."

"But how do ye know of shades which no man has seen, and how do ye know of their life after death since no one of them has ever returned to us?"

"Thou art mistaken, worthiness," replied the priest. "Shades have shown themselves more than once, and even revealed their own secrets.

"It is possible to live ten years in Thebes and not see rain: it is possible to live a hundred years on earth and not meet a shade. But whoso should live hundreds of years in Thebes, or live thousands of years on earth would see more than one rain, and more than one shade."

"Who has lived thousands of years?" inquired Ramses.

"The sacred order of priests has lived, is living, and will live," replied Mentezufis. "The sacred order of priests settled on the Nile thirty thousand years ago. Since then it has scrutinized the heavens and the earth; it has created our wisdom, and made the plan of every field, sluice, canal, pyramid, and temple in Egypt."

"That is true. The order of priests is mighty and wise, but where are the shades? What man has seen them, and who is the person who has spoken to them?"

"Know this, lord," said Mentezufis. "There is a shade in each living man; as there are people distinguished for immense strength, or a marvelous swiftness of vision, so there are men who possess the uncommon gift that during life they can separate their own shades from their bodies.

"Our secret books are filled with the most credible narratives touching this subject. More than one prophet has been able to fall into a sleep that is deathlike. At that time his shade separated from the body and transferred itself in a moment to Tyre, Babylon, or Nineveh, examined what it wished, listened to counsels relating to us, and after the awakening of the prophet gave the most minute account of all that it had witnessed. More than one evil magician, after falling asleep in like fashion, has sent out his shade against a man whom he hated, and overturned or destroyed furniture and terrified a whole household.

"It has happened, too, that the man attacked by the shade of the magician struck the shade with a spear or a sword, and on his house bloody traces were left, while the magician received on his body that wound exactly which was inflicted on his shade.

"More than once also has a shade of a living man appeared in company with him, but some steps distant."

"I know such shades," said the prince ironically.

"I must add," continued Mentezufis, "that not only people, but animals, plants, stones, buildings, and utensils have shades also. But a wonderful thing the shade of an inanimate object is not dead, it possesses life, moves, goes from place to place, it even thinks and expresses thought through various signs, most frequently through knocking.

"When a man dies his shade lives and shows itself to people. In our books thousands of such cases are noted; some shades asked for food, others walked about in houses, worked in a garden, or hunted in the mountains with the shades of their dogs and cats with them. Other shades have frightened people, destroyed their property, drunk their blood, even enticed living persons to excesses. But there are good shades: those of mothers nursing their children, of soldiers, fallen in battle, who give warning of an ambush of an enemy, of priests who reveal important secrets.

"In the eighteenth dynasty the shade of the pharaoh, Cheops, who was doing penance for oppressing people while building the great pyramid, appeared in Nubian gold mines, and in compassion for the sufferings of toiling convicts showed them a new spring of water."

"Thou tellest curious things, holy man," replied Ramses; "let me now tell thee something. One night in Pi-Bast my own shade appeared to me. That shade was just like me, and even dressed like me. Soon, however, I convinced myself that it was no shade. It was a living man, a certain Lykon, the vile murderer of my son. He began his offences by frightening the Phoenician woman Kama. I appointed a reward for seizing him but our police not only did not seize the man, they even permitted him to seize that same Kama and to slay a harmless infant.

"Today I hear that they have captured Kama, but I know nothing of Lykon. Of course he is living in freedom, in good health, cheerful and rich through stolen treasures; may be making ready for new crimes even."

"So many persons are pursuing that criminal that he must be taken at last," said Mentezufis. "And if he falls into our hands Egypt will pay him for the sufferings which he has caused the heir to her throne. Believe me, lord, Thou mayst forgive all his crimes in advance, for the punishment will be in accord with their greatness."

"I should prefer to have him in my own hands," said the prince. "It is always dangerous to have such a 'shade' while one is living." [It is curious that the theory of shades, on which very likely the uncommon care of the Egyptians for the dead was built, has revived in our times in Europe. Adolf d'Assier explains it minutely in a pamphlet "Essai sur l'humanite posthume et le spiritisme, par un positiviste." ]

Not greatly pleased by this end of his explanation, the holy Mentezufis took leave of the viceroy. After the priest had gone, Tutmosis entered.

"The Greeks are raising the pile for their chief," said he, "and a number of Libyan women have agreed to wail at the funeral ceremony."

"We shall be present," answered Ramses. "Dost Thou know that my son is killed? such a little child. When I carried him he laughed and held out his little hands to me. What wickedness may be in the human heart is beyond comprehension. If that vile Lykon had attempted my life I could understand, even forgive him. But to slay a little child."

"But have they told thee of Sarah's devotion?" inquired Tutmosis.

"She was, as I think, the most faithful of women, and I did not treat her justly. But how is it," cried the prince, striking his fist on the table, "that they have not seized that wretch Lykon to this moment? The Phoenicians swore to me, and I promised a reward to the chief of police. There must be some secret in this matter."

Tutmosis approached the prince, and whispered,

"A messenger from Hiram has been with me. Hiram, fearing the anger of the priests, is hiding before he leaves Egypt. Hiram has heard, from the chief of police in PiBast perhaps, that Lykon was captured But quiet!" added the frightened Tutmosis.

The prince fell into anger for a moment, but soon mastered himself.

"Captured?" repeated he. "Why should that be a secret?"

"It is, for the chief of police had to yield him up to the holy Mefres at his command in the name of the supreme council."

"Aha! aha!" repeated the heir. "So the revered Mefres and the supreme council need a man who resembles me so much? Aha! They are to give my son and Sarah a beautiful funeral, and embalm their remains. But the murderer they will secrete safely. Aha!

"And the holy Mentezufis is a great sage. He told me today all the secrets of life beyond the grave; he explained to me the whole funeral ritual, as if I were a priest at least of the third degree. But touching the seizure of Lykon, the hiding of that murderer by Mefres, not a word! Evidently the holy fathers are more occupied by minute secrets of the heir to the throne than with the great secrets of future existence. Aha!"

"It seems to me, lord, that Thou shouldst not wonder at that," interrupted Tutmosis. "Thou knowest that the priests suspect thee of ill-will, and are on their guard. All the more."

"What, all the more?"

"Since his holiness is very ill. Very."

"Aha! my father is ill, and I meanwhile at the head of the army must watch the desert lest the sand should run out of it. It is well that Thou hast reminded me of this! Yes, his holiness must be very ill, since the priests are so tender toward me. They show me everything and speak of everything, except this, that Mefres has secreted Lykon."

"Tutmosis," said the prince on a sudden, "dost Thou think today that I can reckon on the army?"

"We will go to death, only give the order."

"And dost Thou reckon on the nobles?"

"As on the army."

"That is well. Now we may render the rites to Patrokles."



CHAPTER XLVIII

In the course of those few months, during which Prince Ramses had fulfilled the duties of viceroy of Lower Egypt, his holiness the pharaoh had failed in health continually. The moment was approaching in which the lord of eternity, who roused delight in human hearts, the sovereign of Egypt, and of all lands on which the sun shone, had to occupy a place at the side of his revered ancestors in the Libyan catacombs which lie on the other side of the city Teb.

Not over advanced in age was this potentate, the equal of the gods, he who gave life to his subjects, and had power to take from husbands their wives whenever his heart so desired. But thirty and some years of rule had so wearied him that he wished, of his own accord, to rest and regain youth and beauty in that kingdom of the west, where each pharaoh reigns without care through eternity over people who are so happy that no man of them has ever wished to return to this earth from that region.

Half a year earlier the holy lord had exercised every activity connected with his office, on which rested the safety and prosperity of all visible existence.

Barely had the cocks crowed in the morning when the priests roused the sovereign with a hymn in honor of the rising sun. The pharaoh rose from his bed and bathed in a gilded basin containing water fragrant with roses. Then his divine body was rubbed with priceless perfumes amid the murmur of prayers, which had the power of expelling evil spirits.

Thus purified and incensed by prophets, the lord went to a chapel, removed a clay seal from the door and entered the sanctuary unattended, where on a couch of ivory lay the miraculous image of Osiris. This image bad the wondrous quality that every night the hands, feet and head fall from it. These on a time had been cutoff by the evil god Set; but after the prayer of the pharaoh all the members grew on without evident reason.

When his holiness convinced himself that Osiris was sound again he took the statue from the couch, bathed it, dressed it in precious garments, and putting it on a malachite throne burnt incense before it. This ceremony was vastly important, for if any morning the divine members would not grow together it would signify that Egypt, if not the whole world, was threatened by measureless misfortune.

After the resurrection and restoration of the god, his holiness opened the door of the chapel, so that through it blessings might flow forth to the country. Then he designated the priests, who all that day were to guard the sanctuary, not so much against the ill-will, as the frivolity of people. For more than once it happened that a careless mortal who had gone too near that most holy place received an invisible blow which deprived him of consciousness or of life, even.

After he had finished divine service, the lord went, surrounded by chanting priests to a great hall of refection, where stood a small table and an armchair for him and nineteen other tables before nineteen statues which represented the nineteen preceding dynasties. When the sovereign had seated himself youths and maidens came in with silver plates, on which were meat and cakes, also pitchers of wine. The priest, the inspector of the dishes, tasted what was on the first dish, and what was in the first pitcher, then, on his knees, he gave these to the pharaoh, but the other plates and pitchers were placed before the statues of the pharaoh's ancestors. When the sovereign had satisfied his hunger and left the hall princes or priests had the right to eat food intended for the ancestors.

From the hall of refection the lord betook himself to the grand hall of audience. There the highest dignitaries of state, and the nearest members of the family prostrated themselves before him, after that the minister, Herhor; the chief treasurer, the supreme judge, and the supreme chief of police made reports to him. The reading was varied by religious music and dancing, during which wreaths and flowers were cast on the throne of the pharaoh.

After the audience his holiness betook himself to a side chamber and reposing on a couch slumbered lightly for a time; then he offered wine and incense to the gods, and narrated to the priests his dreams, from which those sages made the final disposition in affairs which his holiness was to settle.

But sometimes, when there were no dreams, or when the interpretation of them seemed inappropriate to the pharaoh, his holiness smiled and commanded kindly to act in this way or that in given cases. This command was law which no one might change except in the execution perhaps of details.

In hours after dinner his holiness, borne in a litter, showed himself in the court to his faithful guard, and then he ascended to the roof and looked toward the four quarters of the earth, to impart to them his blessing. At that moment on the summits of pylons banners appeared, and mighty sounds came from trumpets. Whoso heard these sounds in the city or the country, an Egyptian or a stranger, fell on his face so that a portion of supreme grace might descend on him.

At that moment it was not permitted to strike man, or beast: a stick raised over a man's back dropped of itself. If a criminal sentenced to death, declared that the sentence was read to him at the time when the lord of earth and heaven had appeared, his punishment was lessened. For before the pharaoh went might, and behind him followed mercy.

When he had made his people happy, the ruler of all things beneath the sun entered his gardens among palms and sycamores, there he sat a longer time than elsewhere, receiving homage from his women and looking at the amusements of the children of his household. When one of them arrested his attention by beauty or adroitness he called it up, and made inquiry,

"Who art thou, my little child?"

"I am Prince Binotris, the son of his holiness," answered the little boy.

"And what is thy mother's name?"

"My mother is the lady Ameses, a woman of his holiness."

"What dost Thou know?"

"I know how to count to ten and to write: 'May he live through eternity our god and father, his holiness the pharaoh Ramses!"

The lord of eternity smiled benignly and touched with his delicate, almost transparent, hand the curly head of the sprightly little boy. Then the child became a prince really, though the smile of his holiness was ever enigmatical. But whoso had been touched by the divine hand was not to know misfortune in life and had to be raised above others.

The sovereign dined in another hall of refection and shared his meal with the gods of all the divisions of Egypt, gods whose statues were ranged along the walls there. Whatever the gods did not eat went to the priests and higher court dignitaries.

Toward evening his holiness received a visit from Lady Niort's, the mother to the heir to the throne of Egypt; looked at religious dances and heard a concert. After that he went again to the bath and, thus purified, entered the chapel of Osiris to undress and lay to sleep the marvelous divinity. When he had finished this he closed and sealed the chapel door and then, surrounded by a procession of priests, the pharaoh went to his bed-chamber.

In an adjoining apartment the priests offered up, till the following sunrise, silent prayers to the soul of the pharaoh, which found itself among gods during the sleep of the sovereign. They laid before it their prayers for a favorable transaction of current state business, for guardianship over the boundaries of Egypt, and over the tombs of the pharaohs, so that no thief might dare to enter in and disturb the endless rest of those potentates. But the prayers of the priests, because of night weariness, surely, were not always effectual, for state difficulties increased, and sacred tombs were robbed, not only of costly objects, but even of the mummies of sovereigns.

This was because various foreigners had settled in the country and unbelievers from whom the people learned to disregard the gods of Egypt and the most sacred places.

The repose of the lord of lords was interrupted exactly at midnight. At that hour the astrologers roused his holiness and informed him in what mansion the moon was, what planets were shining above the horizon, what constellations were passing the meridian and whether in general something peculiar had taken place in heavenly regions. For sometimes clouds appeared or stars fell in greater number than usual, or a fiery ball flew over Egypt.

The lord listened to the report of the astrologers. In case of any unusual phenomenon he pacified them concerning the safety of the world, and commanded to write down all observations on appropriate tablets, which were sent every month to priests of the temple of the Sphinx, the greatest sages in Egypt. Those men drew conclusions from those tablets, but the most important they declared to no one, unless to their colleagues the Chaldean priests in Babylon.

After midnight his holiness might sleep till the morning cockcrow if he thought proper.

Such a pious and laborious life had been led, not more than half a year ago, by this kind, divine person, the distributor of protection, life, and health, who watched day and night over the earth and the sky, over the world both visible and invisible. But for the last half year his eternally living soul had begun to be more and more wearied with earthly questions, and with its bodily envelope. There were long days when he ate nothing, and nights during which he had no sleep whatever. Sometimes during an audience, there appeared on his mild face an expression of deep pain, while oftener and oftener, he fainted.

The terrified Queen Niort's, the most worthy Herhor and the priests, asked the sovereign repeatedly whether anything pained him. But the lord shrugged his shoulders, and was silent, fulfilling always his burdensome duties.

Then the court physicians began imperceptibly to give the most powerful remedies to restore strength to him. They mixed in his wine and food at first the ashes of a burnt horse and a bull; later of a lion, a rhinoceros, and an elephant; but these strong remedies seemed to have no effect whatever. His holiness fainted so frequently that they ceased to read reports to him.

On a certain day the worthy Herhor with the queen and the priests, fell on their faces; they implored the lord to permit them to examine his divine body. He consented. The physicians examined and struck him, but found no worse sign than great emaciation.

"What feelings dost Thou experience, holiness?" inquired at last the wisest physician.

The pharaoh smiled.

"I feel," replied he, "that it is time for me to return to my radiant father."

"Thou canst not do that, holiness, without the greatest harm to thy people," said Herhor, hurriedly.

"I leave you my son, Ramses, who is a lion and an eagle in one person. And in truth, if ye will obey him, he will prepare for Egypt such a fate as the world has not heard of since the beginning of ages."

A chill passed through holy Herhor and the other priests at that promise. They knew that the heir to the throne was a lion and an eagle in one person, and that they must obey him. But they would have preferred to have for long years that kindly lord, whose heart, filled with compassion, was like the north wind which brings rain to the fields and coolness to mankind. Therefore they fell down all of them as one man to the pavement, groaning, and they lay prostrate till the pharaoh consented to let himself be treated.

Then the physicians took him out for a whole day to the gardens, among frequent pine-trees, they nourished him with chopped meat; they gave him strong herbs with milk and old wine. These effective means strengthened his holiness for something like a week yet; then a new faintness announced itself, and to overcome that they forced their lord to drink the fresh blood of calves descended from Apes.

But neither did this blood help for a long time, and they found it needful to turn for advice to the high priest of the temple of the wicked god Set.

Amid general fear, the gloomy priest entered the bedchamber of his holiness. He looked at the sick pharaoh and prescribed a dreadful remedy.

"It is needful," said he, "to give the pharaoh blood of innocent children to drink; each day a full goblet."

The priests and magnates in the chamber were dumb when they heard this prescription. Then they whispered that the children of earth-tillers were best for the purpose, since the children of priests and great lords lost their innocence even in infancy.

"It is all one to me whose children they are," said the cruel priest, "if only his holiness has fresh blood given him daily."

The pharaoh, lying on the bed with closed eyes, heard that gory counsel, and the whispers of the frightened courtiers. And when one of the physicians asked Herhor timidly if it were possible to take measures to seek proper children, Ramses XII recovered. He fixed his wise eyes on those present,

"The crocodile will not devour its own little ones," said he, "a jackal or a hyena will give its life for its whelps, and am I to drink the blood of Egyptian infants, who are my children? Indeed, I never could have believed that anyone would dare to prescribe means so unworthy."

The priest of the evil god fell to the pavement, and explained that in Egypt no one had ever drunk the blood of infants but that the infernal powers returned health by it. Such means at least were used in Phoenicia and Assyria.

"Shame on thee!" replied the pharaoh, "for mentioning in the palace of Egyptian sovereigns disgusting subjects. Knowest Thou not that Phoenicians and Assyrians are barbarous? But among us the most unenlightened earth-tiller would not believe that blood, shed without cause, could be of service to any one."

Thus spoke he who was equal to immortals. The courtiers covered their faces, spotted now with shame, and the high priest of Set went silently out of the chamber.

Then Herhor, to save the quenching life of the sovereign, had recourse to the last means, and told the pharaoh that in one of the Theban temples, Beroes, the Chaldean, lived in secret. He was the wisest priest of Babylon a miracle worker without equal.

"For thee, holiness," said Herhor, "that sage is a stranger, and he has not the right to impart such important advice to the lord of Egypt. But, O Pharaoh, permit him to look at thee. I am sure that he will find a medicine to cure thy illness, and in no case will he offend thee by impious expressions."

The pharaoh yielded this time also to persuasions from his faithful servitors. And in two days Beroes, summoned in some mysterious way, was sailing down toward Memphis.

The wise Chaldean, even without examining the pharaoh minutely, gave this counsel,

"We must find a person in Egypt whose prayers reach the throne of the Highest. And if this person prays sincerely for the pharaoh, the sovereign will receive his health and live for long years in strength again."

On hearing these words the pharaoh looked at the priests surrounding him, and said,

"I see here holy men in such numbers that, if one of them thinks of me, I shall be in health again." And he smiled imperceptibly.

"We are all only men," interrupted Beroes; "hence our souls cannot always rise to the footstool of Him who existed before the ages. But, holiness, I will use an infallible method by which to find a man whose prayers have the utmost sincerity, and the highest effect."

"Discover him, so that he may be a friend to me in my last hour of life," said the pharaoh.

After this favorable answer the Chaldean desired a room with a single door, and unoccupied. And that same day, one hour before sunset, he asked that his holiness be borne into that chamber.

At the appointed hour four of the highest priests dressed the pharaoh in a robe of new linen, pronounced a great prayer above him, this prayer expelled every evil power absolutely, and seating him in a litter they bore him to that simple chamber where there was but one small table.

Beroes was there already, and, looking toward the east, was praying.

When the priests had left the chamber the Chaldean closed the heavy door, put a purple scarf on his arm and placed a glass globe of black color on the table before the pharaoh. In his left hand he held a sharp dagger of Babylonian steel, in his right a staff covered with mysterious signs, and with that staff he described in the air a circle about himself and the pharaoh. Then facing in turn the four quarters of the world, he whispered,

"Amorul, Taneha, Latisten, Rabur, Adonay have pity on me and purify me, O heavenly Father, the compassionate and gracious. Pour down on thy unworthy servant thy sacred blessing, and extend thy almighty arm against stubborn and rebellious spirits, so that I may consider thy sacred work calmly."

He stopped and turned to the pharaoh,

"Mer-Amen-Ramses, high priest of Amon, dost Thou distinguish a spark in that black globe?"

"I see a white spark which seems to move like a bee above a flower."

"Mer-Amen-Ramses, look at that spark and take not thy eyes from it. Look neither to the right nor the left, look not on anything whatever which may come from the sides."

And again he whispered,

"Baralanensis, Baldachiensis, by the mighty princes Genio, Lachidae, the ministers of the infernal kingdom, I summon you, I call you through the strength of Supreme Majesty, by which I am gifted, I adjure, I command!"

At that place the pharaoh started up with aversion.

"Mer-Amen-Ramses, what seest thou?" asked the Chaldean.

"From beyond the globe rises some horrid head reddish hair is standing on end; a face of greenish hue; the eye looking down so that only the white of it is visible; the mouth open widely, as if to shriek."

"That is Terror!" cried Beroes, and he held his sharp dagger point above the globe.

Suddenly the pharaoh bent to the earth.

"Enough!" cried he, "why torment me thus? The wearied body seeks rest, the soul longs to be in the region of endless light. But not only will ye not let me die; ye are inventing new torments. Oh, I wish not."

"What dost Thou see?"

"From the ceiling every instant two spider legs lower themselves they are terrible. As thick as palm trunks; shaggy with hooks at the ends of them. I feel that above my head is a spider of immense size, and he is binding me with a web of ship ropes."

Beroes turned his dagger point upward.

"Mer-Amen-Ramses," said he again, "look ever at the spark, and never at the sides. Here is a sign which I raise in thy presence," whispered he. "Here am I mightily armed with Divine aid, I, foreseeing and unterrified, who summon you with exorcisms Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye in the name of the all-powerful, the all-mighty and everlasting divinity."

At that moment a calm smile appeared on the lips of the pharaoh.

"It seems to me," said he, "that I behold Egypt all Egypt. Yes! that is the Nile the desert. Here is Memphis, there Thebes."

Indeed he saw Egypt, all Egypt, but no larger than the path which extended through the garden of his palace. The wonderful picture had this trait, that when the Pharaoh turned more deliberate attention to any point of it, that point with its environments grew to be of real size almost.

The sun was going down, covering the earth with golden and purple light. Birds of the daytime were settling to sleep, the night birds were waking up in their concealments. In the desert hyenas and jackals were yawning, and the slumbering lion had begun to stretch his strong body and prepare to hunt victims.

The Nile fisherman drew forth his nets hastily, men were tying up at the shores the great transport barges. The wearied earth-worker removed from the sweep his bucket with which he had drawn water since sunrise; another returned slowly with the plough to his mud hovel. In cities they were lighting lamps, in the temples priests were assembling for evening devotions. On the highways the dust was settling down and the squeak of carts was growing silent. From the pylon summits shrill voices were heard calling people to prayer.

A moment later, the pharaoh saw with astonishment flocks of silvery birds over the earth everywhere. They were flying up out of palaces, temples streets, workshops, Nile barges, country huts, even from the quarries. At first each of them shot upward like an arrow, but soon it met in the sky another silvery feathered bird, which stopped its way, striking it with all force and both fell to the earth lifeless.

Those were the unworthy prayers of men, which prevented each other from reaching the throne of Him who existed before the ages.

The pharaoh strained his hearing. At first only the rustle of wings reached him, but soon he distinguished words also.

And now he heard a sick man praying for the return of his health, and also the physician, who begged that that same patient might be sick as long as possible. The landowner prayed Amon to watch over his granary and cow-house, the thief stretched his hands heavenward so that he might lead forth another man's cow without hindrance, and fill his own bags from another man's harvest.

Their prayers knocked each other down like stones which had been hurled from slings and had met in the air.

The wanderer in the desert fell on the sand and begged for a north wind, to bring a drop of rain to him, the sailor on the sea beat the deck with his forehead and prayed that wind might blow from the east a week longer. The earth-worker wished that swamps might dry up quickly after inundation; the needy fisherman begged that the swamps might not dry up at any time.

Their prayers killed each other and never reached the divine ears of Amon.

The greatest uproar reigned above the quarries where criminals, lashed together in chain gangs, split enormous rocks with wedges, wetted with water. There a party of day convicts prayed for the night, so that they might lie down to slumber; while parties of night toilers, roused by their overseers, beat their breasts, asking that the sun might not set at any hour. Merchants who purchased quarried and dressed stones prayed that there might be as many criminals in the quarries as possible, while provision contractors lay on their stomachs, sighing for the plague to kill laborers, and make their own profits as large as they might be.

So the prayers of men from the quarries did not reach the sky in any case.

On the western boundary the pharaoh saw two armies preparing for battle. Both were prostrate on the sand, calling on Amon to rub out the other side. The Libyans wished shame and death to Egyptians; the Egyptians hurled curses on the Libyans.

The prayers of these and of those, like two flocks of falcons, fought above the earth and fell dead in the desert. Amon did not even see them.

And whithersoever the pharaoh turned his wearied glance he saw the same picture everywhere. The laborers were praying for rest and decrease of taxes, scribes were praying that taxes might increase and work never be finished. The priests implored Amon for long life to Ramses XII and death to Phoenicians, who interfered with their interests; the nomarchs implored the gods to preserve the Phoenicians and let Ramses XIII ascend the throne at the earliest, for he would curb priestly tyranny. Lions, jackals, and hyenas were panting with hunger and desire for fresh blood; deer and rabbits slipped out of hiding-places, thinking to preserve wretched life a day longer, though experience declared that numbers of them must perish, even on that night, so that beasts of prey might not famish. So throughout the whole world reigned cross-purposes everywhere. Each wished that which filled others with terror; each begged for his own good, without asking if he did harm to the next man.

For this cause their prayers, though like silvery birds flying heavenward, did not reach their destination. And the divine Amon, to whom no voice of the earth came at any time, dropped his hands on his knees, and sank ever deeper in meditation over his own divinity, while on the earth blind force and chance ruled without interruption.

All at once the pharaoh heard the voice of a woman, "Rogue! Little rogue! come in, Thou unruly, it is time for prayers."

"This minute! this minute!" answered the voice of the little child.

The sovereign looked toward the point whence the voice came and saw the poor hut of a cattle scribe. The hut owner had finished his register in the light of the setting sun, his wife was grinding flour for a cake, and before the house, like a young kid, was running and jumping the six-year-old little boy, laughing, it was unknown for what reason.

The evening air full of sweetness had given him delight, that was evident.

"Rogue! Little rogue! come here to me for a prayer," repeated the woman.

"This minute! this minute!"

And again he ran with delight as if wild.

At last the mother, seeing that the sun was beginning to sink in the sands of the desert, put away her mill stones, and, going out, seized the boy, who raced around like a little colt. He resisted but gave way to superior force finally. The mother, drawing him to the hut as quickly as possible, held him with her hand so that he might not escape from her.

"Do not twist," said she, "put thy feet under thee, sit upright, put thy hands together and raise them upward. Ah, Thou bad boy!"

The boy knew that he could not escape now; so to be free again as soon as possible he raised his eyes and hands heavenward piously, and with a thin squeaky voice, he said,

"O kind, divine Amon, I thank thee, Thou hast kept my papa today from misfortune, Thou hast given wheat for cakes to my mamma. What more? Thou hast made heaven. I thank thee. And the earth, and sent down the Nile which brings bread to us. And what more? Aha, I know now! And I thank thee because out-of-doors it is so beautiful, and flowers are growing there, and birds singing and the palms give us sweet dates. For these good things which Thou hast given us, may all love thee as I do, and praise thee better than I can, for I am a little boy yet and I have not learned wisdom. Well, is that enough, mamma?"

"Bad boy!" muttered the cattle scribe, bending over his register. "Bad boy! Thou art giving honor to Amon carelessly."

But the pharaoh in that magic globe saw now something altogether different. Behold the prayer of the delighted little boy rose, like a lark, toward the sky, and with fluttering wings it went higher and higher till it reached the throne where the eternal Amon with his hands on his knees was sunk in meditation on his own all-mightiness.

Then it went still higher, as high as the head of the divinity, and sang with the thin, childish little voice to him:

"And for those good things which Thou hast given us may all love thee as I do."

At these words the divinity, sunk in himself, opened his eyes there came to the earth immense calm. Every pain ceased, every fear, every wrong stopped. The whistling missile hung in the air, the lion stopped in his spring on the deer, the stick uplifted did not fall on the back of the captive. The sick man forgot his pains, the wanderer in the desert his hunger, the prisoner his chains. The storm ceased, and the wave of the sea, though ready to drown the ship, halted. And on the whole earth such rest settled down that the sun, just hiding on the horizon, thrust up his shining head again.

The pharaoh recovered. He saw before him a little table, on the table a black globe, at the side of it Beroes the Chaldean.

"Mer-Amen-Ramses," asked the priest, "hast Thou found a person whose prayers reach the footstool of Him who existed before the ages?"

"I have."

"Is he a prince, a noble, a prophet, or perhaps an ordinary hermit?"

"He is a little boy, six years old, who asked Amon for nothing, he only thanked him for everything."

"But dost Thou know where he dwells?" inquired the Chaldean.

"I know, but I will not steal for my own use the virtue of his prayer. The world, Beroes, is a gigantic vortex, in which people are whirled around like sand, and they are whirled by misfortune. That child with his prayer gives people what I cannot give: a brief space of peace and oblivion. Dost understand, O Chaldean?"

Beroes was silent.



CHAPTER XLIX

AT sunrise of the twenty-first of Hator there came from Memphis to the camp at the Soda Lakes an order by which three regiments were to march to Libya to stand garrison in the towns, the rest of the Egyptian army was to return home with Ramses.

The army greeted this arrangement with shouts of delight, for a stay of some days in the wilderness had begun to annoy them. In spite of supplies from Egypt and from conquered Libya, there was not an excess of provisions; water in the wells dug out quickly, was exhausted; the heat of the sun burned their bodies, and the ruddy sand wounded their lungs and their eyeballs. The warriors were falling ill of dysentery and a malignant inflammation of the eyelids.

Ramses commanded to raise the camp. He sent three native Egyptian regiments to Libya, commanding the soldiers to treat people mildly and never wander from the camp singly. The army proper he turned toward Memphis, leaving a small garrison at the glass huts and in the fortress.

About nine in the morning, in spite of the heat, both armies were on the road; one going northward, the other toward the south.

The holy Mentezufis approached the heir then, and said,

"It would be well, worthiness, couldst Thou reach Memphis earlier. There will be fresh horses half-way."

"Then my father is very ill?" cried out Ramses.

The priest bent his head.

The prince gave command to Mentezufis, begging him to change in no way commands already made, unless he counseled with lay generals. Taking Pentuer, Tutmosis, and twenty of the best Asiatic horsemen, he went himself on a sharp trot toward Memphis.

In five hours they passed half the journey; at the halt, as Mentezufis had declared, were fresh horses and a new escort. The Asiatics remained at that point, and after a short rest the prince with his two companions and a new escort went farther.

"Woe to me!" said Tutmosis. "It is not enough that for five days I have not bathed and know not rose perfumed oil, but besides I must make in one day two forced marches. I am sure that when we reach Memphis no dancer will look at me."

"What! Art Thou better than we?" asked the prince.

"I am more fragile," said the exquisite. "Thou, prince, art as accustomed to riding as a Hyksos, and Pentuer might travel on a red-hot sword. But I am so delicate."

At sunset the travelers came out on a lofty hill, whence they saw an uncommon picture unfolded before them. For a long distance the green valley of Egypt was visible, on the background of it, like a row of ruddy fires, the triangular pyramids stood gleaming. A little to the right of the pyramids the tops of the Memphis pylons, wrapped in a bluish haze, seemed to be flaming upward.

"Let us go; let us go!" said Ramses.

A moment later the reddish desert surrounded them again, and again the line of pyramids gleamed until all was dissolved in the twilight.

When night fell the travelers had reached that immense district of the dead, which extends for a number of tens of miles on the heights along the left side of the river.

Here during the Ancient Kingdom were buried, for endless ages, Egyptians, the pharaohs in immense pyramids, princes and dignitaries in smaller pyramids, common men in mud structures. Here were resting millions of mummies, not only of people, but of dogs, cats, birds, in a word, all creatures which, while they lived, were dear to Egyptians.

During the time of Ramses, the burial-ground of kings and great persons was transferred to Thebes; in the neighborhood of Memphis were buried only common persons and artisans from regions about there.

Among scattered graves, the prince and his escort met a number of people, pushing about like shadows.

"Who are ye?" asked the leader of the escort.

"We are poor servants of the pharaoh returning from our dead. We took to them roses, cakes, and beer."

"But maybe ye looked into strange graves?"

"O gods!" cried one of the party, "could we commit such a sacrilege? It is only the wicked Thebans may their hands wither! who disturb the dead, so as to drink away their property in dramshops?"

"What mean those fires at the north there?" interrupted the prince.

"It must be, worthiness, that Thou comest from afar if Thou know not," answered they. "Tomorrow our heir is returning with a victorious army. He is a great chief! He conquered the Libyans in one battle. Those are the people of Memphis who have gone out to greet him with solemnity. Thirty thousand persons. When they shout."

"I understand," whispered the prince to Pentuer. "Holy Mentezufis has sent me ahead so that I may not have a triumphal entry. But never mind this time."

The horses were tired, and they had to rest. So the prince sent horsemen to engage barges on the river, and the rest of the escort halted under some palms, which at that time grew between the Sphinx and the group of pyramids.

Those pyramids formed the northern limit of the immense cemetery. On the flat, about a square kilometer in area, overgrown at that time with plants of the desert, were tombs and small pyramids, above which towered the three great pyramids: those of Cheops, Chafre, and Menkere, and the Sphinx. These immense structures stand only a few hundred yards from one another. The three pyramids are in a line from northeast to southwest. East of this line and nearer the Nile is the Sphinx, near whose feet was the underground temple of Horus.

The pyramids, but especially that of Cheops, as a work of human labor, astound by their greatness. This pyramid is a pointed stone mountain; its original height was thirty five stories, or four hundred and eighty-one feet, standing on a square foundation each side of which was seven hundred and fifty-five feet. It occupied a little more than thirteen acres of area, and its four triangular walls would cover twenty acres of land. In building it, such vast numbers of stones were used that it would be possible to build a wall of the height of a man, a wall half a meter thick, and two thousand five hundred kilometers long.

When the attendants of the prince had disposed themselves under the wretched trees, some occupied themselves in finding water; others took out cakes, while Tutmosis dropped to the ground and fell asleep directly. But the prince and Pentuer walked up and down conversing.

The night was clear enough to let them see on one side the immense outline of the pyramids, on the other, the Sphinx, which seemed small in comparison.

"I am here for the fourth time," said the heir, "and my heart is always filled with regret and astonishment. When a pupil in the higher school, I thought that, on ascending the throne, I would build something of more worth than the pyramid of Cheops. But today I am ready to laugh at my insolence when I think that the great pharaoh in building his tomb paid sixteen hundred talents (about ten million francs) for the vegetables alone which were used by the laborers. Where should I find sixteen hundred talents even for wages?"

"Envy not Cheops, lord," replied the priest. "Other pharaohs have left better works behind: lakes, canals, roads, schools, and temples."

"But may we compare those things with the pyramids?"

"Of course not," answered Pentuer, hurriedly. "In my eyes and in the eyes of all the people, each pyramid is a great crime, and that of Cheops, the greatest of all crimes."

"Thou art too much excited," said the prince.

"I am not. The pharaoh was building his immense tomb for thirty years; in the course of those years one hundred thousand people worked three months annually. And what good was there in that work? Whom did it feed, whom did it cure, to whom did it give clothing? At that work from ten to twenty thousand people perished yearly; that is, for the tomb of Cheops a half a million corpses were put into the earth. But the blood, the pain, the tears, who will reckon them?

"Therefore, wonder not, lord, that the Egyptian toiler to this day looks with fear toward the west, when above the horizon the triangular forms of the pyramids seem bloody or crimson. They are witnesses of his sufferings and fruitless labor.

"And to think that this will continue till those proofs of human pride are scattered into dust! But when will that be? For three thousand years those pyramids frighten men with their presence; their walls are smooth yet, and the immense inscriptions on them are legible."

"That night in the desert thy speech was different," interrupted the prince.

"For I was not looking at these. But when they are before my eyes, as at present, I am surrounded by the sobbing spirits of tortured toilers, and they whisper, 'See what they did with us! But our bones felt pain, and our hearts longed for rest from labor.'."

Ramses was touched disagreeably by this outburst. "His holiness, my father," said he, after a while, "presented these things to me differently; when we were here five years ago, the sacred lord told me the following narrative:

"During the reign of the pharaoh Tutmosis I, Ethiopian ambassadors came to negotiate touching the tribute to be paid by them. They were all arrogant people. They said that the loss of one war was nothing, that fate might favor them in a second; and for a couple of months they disputed about tribute.

"In vain did the wise pharaoh, in his wish to enlighten the men mildly, show our roads and canals to them. They replied that in their country they had water for nothing wherever they wanted it. In vain he showed them the treasures of the temples; they said that their country concealed more gold and jewels by far than were possessed by all Egypt. In vain did the lord review his armies before them, for they asserted that Ethiopia had incomparably more warriors' than his holiness.

"The pharaoh brought those people at last to these places where we are standing and showed them those structures.

"The Ethiopian ambassadors went around the pyramids, read the inscriptions, and next day they concluded the treaty required of them.

"Since I did not understand the heart of the matter," continued Ramses, "my holy father explained it.

"'My son,' said he, 'these pyramids are an eternal proof of superhuman power in Egypt. If any man wished to raise to himself a pyramid he would pile up a small heap of stones and abandon his labor after some hours had passed, asking: 'What good is this to me?' Ten, one hundred, one thousand men would pile up a few more stones. They would throw them down without order, and leave the work after a few days, for what good would it be to them?

"'But when a pharaoh of Egypt decides, when the Egyptian state has decided to rear a pile of stones, thousands of legions of men are sent out, and for a number of tens of years they build, till the work is completed. For the question is not this: Are the pyramids needed, but this is the will of the pharaoh to be accomplished, once it is uttered.' So, Pentuer, this pyramid is not the tomb of Cheops, but the will of Cheops, a will which had more men to carry it out than had any king on earth, and which was as orderly and enduring in action as the gods are.

"While I was yet at school they taught me that the will of the people was a great power, the greatest power under the sun. And still the will of the people can raise one stone barely. How great, then, must be the will of the pharaoh who has raised a mountain of stones only because it pleased him, only because he wished thus, even were it without an object."

"Wouldst thou, lord, wish to show thy power in such fashion?" inquired Pentuer, suddenly.

"No," answered the prince, without hesitation. "When the pharaohs have once shown their power, they may be merciful; unless some one should resist their orders."

"And still this young man is only twenty three years of age!" thought the frightened priest.

They turned toward the river and walked some time in silence.

"Lie down, lord," said the priest, after a while; "sleep. We have made no small journey."

"But can I sleep?" answered the prince. "First I am surrounded by those legions of laborers who, according to thy view, perished in building the pyramids Just as if they could have lived forever had they not raised those structures! Then, again, I think of his holiness, my father, who is dying, perhaps, at this very moment. Common men suffer, common men spill their blood! Who will prove to me that my divine father is not tortured more on his costly bed than thy toilers who are carrying heated stones to a building?

"Laborers, always laborers! For thee, O priest, only he deserves compassion who bites lice. A whole series of pharaohs have gone into their graves; some died in torments, some were killed. But Thou thinkest not of them; Thou thinkest only of those whose service is that they begot other toilers who dipped up muddy water from the Nile, or thrust barley balls into the mouths of their milch cows.

"But my father and I? Was not my son slain, and also a woman of my household? Was Typhon compassionate to me in the desert? Do not my bones ache after a long journey? Do not missiles from Libyan slings whistle over my head? Have I a treaty with sickness, with pain, or with death, that they should be kinder to me than to thy toilers?

"Look there: the Asiatics are sleeping, and quiet has taken possession of their breasts; but I, their lord, have a heart full of yesterday's cares, and of fears for the morrow. Ask a toiling man of a hundred years whether in all his life he had as much sorrow as I have had during my power of a few months as commander and viceroy."

Before them rose slowly from the depth of the night a wonderful shade. It was an object fifty yards long and as high as a house of three stories, having at its side, as it were, a five-storied tower of uncommon structure.

"Here is the Sphinx," said the irritated prince, "purely priests' work! Whenever I see this, in the day or the night time, the question always tortures me: What is this, and what is the use of it? The pyramids I understand: Almighty pharaoh wished to show his power, and, perhaps, which was wiser, wished to secure eternal life which no thief or enemy might take from him. Drat this Sphinx! Evidently that is our sacred priestly order, which has a very large, wise head and lion's claws beneath it.

"This repulsive statue, full of double meaning, which seems to exult because we appear like locusts when we stand near it, it is neither a man nor a beast nor a rock What is it, then? What is its meaning? Or that smile which it has If Thou admire the everlasting endurance of the pyramids, it smiles; if Thou go past to converse with the tombs, it smiles. Whether the fields of Egypt are green, or Typhon lets loose his fiery steeds, or the slave seeks his freedom in the desert, or Ramses the Great drives conquered nations before him, it has for all one and the same changeless smile. Nineteen dynasties have passed like shadows; but it smiles on and would smile even were the Nile to grow dry, and were Egypt to disappear under sand fields.

"Is not that monster the more dreadful that it has a mild human visage? Lasting itself throughout ages, it has never known grief over life, which is fleeting and filled with anguish."

"Dost Thou not remember, lord, the 'faces of the gods," interrupted Pentuer, "or hast Thou not seen mummies? All immortals look on transient things with the selfsame indifference. Even man does when nearing the end of his earth-life."

"The gods hear our prayers sometimes, but the Sphinx never moves. No compassion on that face, a mere gigantic jeering terror. If I knew that in its mouth were hidden some prophecy for me, or some means to elevate Egypt, I should not dare to put a question. It seems to me that I should hear some awful answer uttered with unpitying calmness. This is the work and the image of the priesthood. It is worse than man, for it has a lion's body; it is worse than a beast, for it has a human head; it is worse than stone, for inexplicable life is contained in it."

At that moment groaning and muffled voices reached them, the source of which they could not determine.

"Is the Sphinx singing?" inquired the astonished prince.

"That singing is in the underground temple," replied Pentuer. "But why are they praying at this night hour?"

"Ask rather why they pray at all, since no one hears them."

Pentuer took the direction at once and went toward the place of the singing. The prince found some stone for a support and sat down wearied. He put his hands behind him, leaned back, and looked into the immense face before him.

In spite of the lack of light, the superhuman features were clearly visible; just the shade added life and character. The more the prince gazed into that face, the more powerfully he felt that he had been prejudiced, that his dislike was unreasonable.

On the face of the Sphinx, there was no cruelty, but rather resignation. In its smile there was no jeering, but rather sadness. It did not feel the wretchedness and fleeting nature of mankind, for it did not see them. Its eyes, filled with expression, were fixed somewhere beyond the Nile, beyond the horizon, toward regions concealed from human sight beneath the vault of heaven. Was it watching the disturbing growth of the Assyrian monarchy? Or the impudent activity of Phoenicia? Or the birth of Greece, or events, perhaps, which were preparing on the Jordan? Who could answer?

The prince was sure of one thing, that it was gazing, thinking, waiting for something with a calm smile worthy of supernatural existence. And, moreover, it seemed to him that if that something appeared on the horizon, the Sphinx would rise up and go to meet it.

What was that to be, and when would it come? This was a mystery the significance of which was depicted expressly on the face of that creature which had existed for ages. But it would of necessity take place on a sudden, since the Sphinx had not closed its eyes for one instant during millenniums, and was gazing, gazing, always.