it showed the mighty brow of power, the features cut in kingly mould, the white eyebrows, and the dark hollows of the deep-set eyes.  I looked and trembled, for there was about him that which was more than the dignity of man.  He had lived so long with the Gods, and so long kept company with them and with thoughts divine, he was so deeply versed in all those mysteries which we do but faintly discern, here in this upper air, that even now, before his time, he partook of the nature of the Osiris, and was a thing to shake humanity with fear.

I stood and gazed, and as I stood he opened his dark eyes, but looked not on me, nor turned his head; and yet he saw me and spoke.

“Why hast thou been disobedient to me, my son?” he said.  “How came it that thou wentest forth against the lion when I bade thee not?”

“How knowest thou, my father, that I went forth?” I asked in fear.

“How know I?  Are there, then, no other ways of knowledge than by the senses?  Ah, ignorant child! was not my Spirit with thee when the lion sprang upon thy companion?  Did I not pray Those set about thee to protect thee, to make sure thy thrust when thou didst drive the spear into the lion’s throat!  How came it that thou wentest forth, my son?”

“The boaster taunted me,” I answered, “and I went.”

“Yes, I know it; and, because of the hot blood of youth, I forgive thee, Harmachis.  But now listen to me, and let my words sink into thy heart like the waters of Sihor into the thirsty sand at the rising of Sirius.[*] Listen to me.  The boaster was sent to thee as a temptation, he was sent as a trial of thy strength, and see! it has not been equal to the burden.  Therefore thy hour is put back.  Hadst thou been strong in this matter, the path had been made plain to thee even now.  But thou hast failed, and therefore thy hour is put back.”

     [*] The dog-star, whose appearance marked the commencement
     of the overflow of the Nile.—­Editor.

“I understand thee not, my father,” I answered.

“What was it, then, my son, that the old wife, Atoua, said to thee down by the bank of the canal?”

Then I told him all that the old wife had said.

“And thou believest, Harmachis, my son?”

“Nay,” I answered; “how should I believe such tales?  Surely she is mad.  All the people know her for mad.”

Now for the first time he looked towards me, who was standing in the shadow.

“My son! my son!” he cried; “thou art wrong.  She is not mad.  The woman spoke the truth; she spoke not of herself, but of the voice within her that cannot lie.  For this Atoua is a prophetess and holy.  Now learn thou the destiny that the Gods of Egypt have given to thee to fulfil, and woe be unto thee if by any weakness thou dost fail therein!  Listen:  thou art no stranger adopted into my house and the worship of the Temple; thou art my very son, saved to me by this same woman.