“That is a mean faith, Bakenkhonsu.”

“Very mean, Ana, like all else that we can taste and handle.  A mean faith suited to mean hearts, among whom should be reckoned all save one in every thousand.  Yet, if you would prosper, follow it, and when you are dead I will come and laugh upon your grave, and say, ’Here lies one of whom I had hoped higher things, as I hope them of your master.’”

“And not in vain, Bakenkhonsu, whatever may happen to the servant.”

“That we shall learn, and ere long, I think.  I wonder who will ride at his side before the next Nile flood.  By then, perchance, he will have changed Pharaoh’s golden chariot for an ox-cart, and you will goad the oxen and talk to him of the stars—­or, mayhap of the moon.  Well, you might both be happier thus, and she of the moon is a jealous goddess who loves worship.  Oho-ho!  Here are the palace steps.  Help me to descend, Priest of the Lady of the Moon.”

We entered the palace and were led through the great hall to a smaller chamber where Pharaoh, who did not wear his robes of state, awaited us, seated in a cedar chair.  Glancing at him I saw that his face was stern and troubled; also it seemed to me that he had grown older.  The Prince and Princess made obeisance to him, as did we lesser folk, but he took no heed.  When all were present and the doors had been shut, Pharaoh said: 

“I have read your report, Son Seti, concerning your visit to the Israelites, and all that chanced to you; and also the reports of you, nephew Amenmeses, and of you, Officers, who accompanied the Prince of Egypt.  Before I speak of them, let the Scribe Ana, who was the chariot companion of his Highness when the Hebrews attacked him, stand forward and tell me all that passed.”

So I advanced, and with bowed head repeated that tale, only leaving out so far as was possible any mention of myself.  When I had finished, Pharaoh said: 

“He who speaks but half the truth is sometimes more mischievous than a liar.  Did you then sit in the chariot, Scribe, doing nothing while the Prince battled for his life?  Or did you run away?  Speak, Seti, and say what part this man played for good or ill.”

Then the Prince told of my share in the fight, with words that brought the blood to my brow.  He told also how that it was I who, taking the risk of his wrath, had ordered the guard of twenty men to follow us unseen, had disguised two seasoned soldiers as chariot runners, and had thought to send back the driver to summon help at the commencement of the fray; how I had been hurt also, and was but lately recovered.  When he had finished, Pharaoh said: 

“That this story is true I know from others.  Scribe, you have done well.  But for you to-day his Highness would lie upon the table of the embalmers, as indeed for his folly he deserves to do, and Egypt would mourn from Thebes to the mouths of Nile.  Come hither.”

I came with trembling steps, and knelt before his Majesty.  Around his neck hung a beauteous chain of wrought gold.  He took it, and cast it over my head, saying: