“Hatred speaks in thee,” said the haruspex, interrupting the indignant old man.

“Hatred!” he retorted, and his lips quivered.  “Hatred?” and he struck his breast with his clenched hand.  “It is true, it is no stranger to this old heart.  But open thine ears, O haruspex, and all you others too shall hear.  I recognize two sorts of hatred.  The one is between man and man; that I have gagged, smothered, killed, annihilated—­with what efforts, the Gods know.  In past years I have certainly tasted its bitterness, and served it like a wasp, which, though it knows that in stinging it must die, yet uses its sting.  But now I am old in years, that is in knowledge, and I know that of all the powerful impulses which stir our hearts, one only comes solely from Seth, one only belongs wholly to the Evil one and that is hatred between man and man.  Covetousness may lead to industry, sensual appetites may beget noble fruit, but hatred is a devastator, and in the soul that it occupies all that is noble grows not upwards and towards the light, but downwards to the earth and to darkness.  Everything may be forgiven by the Gods, save only hatred between man and man.  But there is another sort of hatred that is pleasing to the Gods, and which you must cherish if you would not miss their presence in your souls; that is, hatred for all that hinders the growth of light and goodness and purity—­the hatred of Horus for Seth.  The Gods would punish me if I hated Paaker whose father was dear to me; but the spirits of darkness would possess the old heart in my breast if it were devoid of horror for the covetous and sordid devotee, who would fain buy earthly joys of the Gods with gifts of beasts and wine, as men exchange an ass for a robe, in whose soul seethe dark promptings.  Paaker’s gifts can no more be pleasing to the Celestials than a cask of attar of roses would please thee, haruspex, in which scorpions, centipedes, and venomous snakes were swimming.  I have long led this man’s prayers, and never have I heard him crave for noble gifts, but a thousand times for the injury of the men he hates.”

“In the holiest prayers that come down to us from the past,” said the haruspex, “the Gods are entreated to throw our enemies under our feet; and, besides, I have often heard Paaker pray fervently for the bliss of his parents.”

“You are a priest and one of the initiated,” cried Gagabu, “and you know not—­or will not seem to know—­that by the enemies for whose overthrow we pray, are meant only the demons of darkness and the outlandish peoples by whom Egypt is endangered!  Paaker prayed for his parents?  Ay, and so will he for his children, for they will be his future as his fore fathers are his past.  If he had a wife, his offerings would be for her too, for she would be the half of his own present.”

“In spite of all this,” said the haruspex Septah, “you are too hard in your judgment of Paaker, for although lie was born under a lucky sign, the Hathors denied him all that makes youth happy.  The enemy for whose destruction he prays is Mena, the king’s charioteer, and, indeed, he must have been of superhuman magnanimity or of unmanly feebleness, if he could have wished well to the man who robbed him of the beautiful wife who was destined for him.”