[*] The soul when it has been absorbed in the Godhead.—­
     Editor.

“You know too much and talk too fast,” grumbled the spy, now quite deceived.  “Well, he is a brave youth.  Here, you men, bear this body back to Abouthis, and some of you stop and help me skin the lion.  We’ll send the skin to you, young man,” he went on; “not that you deserve it:  to attack a lion like that was the act of a fool, and a fool deserves what he gets—­destruction.  Never attack the strong until you are stronger.”

But for my part I went home wondering.

CHAPTER III

OF THE REBUKE OF AMENEMHAT; OF THE PRAYER OF HARMACHIS; AND OF THE SIGN GIVEN BY THE HOLY GODS

For a while as I, Harmachis, went, the juice of the green herbs which the old wife, Atoua, had placed upon my wounds caused me much smart, but presently the pain ceased.  And, of a truth, I believe that there was virtue in them, for within two days my flesh healed up, so that after a time no marks remained.  But I bethought me that I had disobeyed the word of the old High Priest, Amenemhat, who was called my father.  For till this day I knew not that he was in truth my father according to the flesh, having been taught that his own son was slain as I have written; and that he had been pleased, with the sanction of the Divine ones, to take me as an adopted son and rear me up, that I might in due season fulfil an office about the Temple.  Therefore I was much troubled, for I feared the old man, who was very terrible in his anger, and ever spoke with the cold voice of Wisdom.  Nevertheless, I determined to go in to him and confess my fault and bear such punishment as he should be pleased to put upon me.  So with the red spear in my hand, and the red wounds on my breast, I passed through the outer court of the great temple and came to the door of the place where the High Priest dwelt.  It is a great chamber, sculptured round about with the images of the solemn Gods, and the sunlight comes to it in the daytime by an opening cut through the stones of the massy roof.  But at night it was lit by a swinging lamp of bronze.  I passed in without noise, for the door was not altogether shut, and, pushing my way through the heavy curtains that were beyond, I stood with a beating heart within the chamber.

The lamp was lit, for the darkness had fallen, and by its light I saw the old man seated in a chair of ivory and ebony at a table of stone on which were spread mystic writings of the words of Life and Death.  But he read no more, for he slept, and his long white beard rested upon the table like the beard of a dead man.  The soft light from the lamp fell on him, on the papyri and the gold ring upon his hand, where were graven the symbols of the Invisible One, but all around was shadow.  It fell on the shaven head, on the white robe, on the cedar staff of priesthood at his side, and on the ivory of the lion-footed chair;