“And what happened to this Ana?” I asked.

“I do not know.  I suppose he went on dreaming, or perhaps he took another wife; if so, I am sorry for her.  Only, if by chance it is the same that has come to Thebes, he must be wealthy now, and I shall go and claim him and make him keep me well.”

“Had you any children?” I asked.

“Only one, thank the gods, and that died—­thank the gods again, for otherwise it might have lived to be such as I am,” and she sobbed once in a hard fashion and then fell to her vile endearments.

As she did so, the hood slipped from her head and I saw that the face was that of my wife, still beauteous in a bold fashion, but grown dreadful with drink and sin.  I trembled from head to foot, then said in the disguised voice that I had used to her.

“Woman, I know this Ana.  He is dead and you were his ruin.  Still, because I was his friend, take this and go reform your ways,” and I drew from my robe and gave to her a bag containing no mean weight of gold.

She snatched it as a hawk snatches, and seeing its contents by the starlight, thanked me, saying: 

“Surely Ana dead is worth more than Ana alive.  Also it is well that he is dead, for he is gone where the child went, which he loved more than life, neglecting me for its sake and thereby making me what I am.  Had he lived, too, being as I have said a fool, he would have had more ill-luck with women, whom he never understood.  Farewell, friend of Ana, who have given me that which will enable me to find another husband,” and laughing wildly she reeled off behind a sphinx and vanished into the darkness.

For this reason, then, I was glad to escape from Thebes.  Moreover, that miserable one had hurt me sorely, making me sure of what I had only guessed, namely, that with women I was but a fool, so great a fool that then and there I swore by my guardian god that never would I look with love on one of them again, an oath which I have kept well whatever others I may have broken.  Again she stabbed me through with the talk of our dead child, for it is true that when that sweet one took flight to Osiris my heart broke and in a fashion has never mended itself again.  Lastly, I feared lest it might also be true that I had neglected the mother for the sake of this child which was the jewel of my worship, yes, and is, and thereby helped her on to shame.  So much did this thought torment me that through an agent whom I trusted, who believed that I was but providing for one whom I had wronged, I caused enough to be paid to her to keep her in comfort.

She did marry again, a merchant about whom she had cast her toils, and in due course spent his wealth and brought him to ruin, after which he ran away from her.  As for her, she died of her evil habits in the third year of the reign of Seti II.  But, the gods be thanked she never knew that the private scribe of Pharaoh’s chamber was that Ana who had been her husband.  Here I will end her story.