“What relates to Egypt, and my concern for my country, and the happy issue of the war,” wrote the Pharaoh, “I have written to you by the hand of my secretary; but these words are for the brother, who desires to be my son, and I write to him myself.  The lordly essence of the Divinity which dwells in me, readily brings a quick ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to my lips, and it decides for the best.  Now you demand my daughter Bent-Anat to wife, and I should not be Rameses if I did not freely confess that before I had read the last words of your letter, a vehement ‘No’ rushed to my lips.  I caused the stars to be consulted, and the entrails of the victims to be examined, and they were adverse to your request; and yet I could not refuse you, for you are dear to me, and your blood is royal as my own.  Even more royal, an old friend said, and warned me against your ambition and your exaltation.  Then my heart changed, for I were not Seti’s son if I allow myself to injure a friend through idle apprehensions; and he who stands so high that men fear that he may try to rise above Rameses, seems to me to be worthy of Bent-Anat.  Woo her, and, should she consent freely, the marriage may be celebrated on the day when I return home.  You are young enough to make a wife happy, and your mature wisdom will guard my child from misfortune.  Bent-Anat shall know that her father, and king, encourages your suit; but pray too to the Hathors, that they may influence Bent-Anat’s heart in your favor, for to her decision we must both submit.”

The Regent had changed color several times while reading this letter.  Now he laid it on the table with a shrug of his shoulders, stood up, clasped his hand behind him, and, with his eyes cast meditatively on the floor, leaned against one of the pillars which supported the beams of the roof.

The longer he thought, the less amiable his expression became.  “A pill sweetened with honey,

     [Two recipes for pills are found in the papyri, one with honey for
     women, and one without for men.]

such as they give to women,” he muttered to himself.  Then he went back to the table, read the king’s letter through once more, and said:  “One may learn from it how to deny by granting, and at the same time not to forget to give it a brilliant show of magnanimity.  Rameses knows his daughter.  She is a girl like any other, and will take good care not to choose a man twice as old as herself, and who might be her father.  Rameses will ‘submit’—­I am to I submit!’ And to what? to the judgment and the choice of a wilful child!”

With these words he threw the letter so vehemently on to the table, that it slipped off on to the floor.

The mute slave picked it up, and laid it carefully on the table again, while his master threw a ball into a silver bason.

Several attendants rushed into the room, and Ani ordered them to bring to him the captive dwarf of the Lady Katuti.  His soul rose in indignation against the king, who in his remote camp-tent could fancy he had made him happy by a proof of his highest favor.  When we are plotting against a man we are inclined to regard him as an enemy, and if he offers us a rose we believe it to be for the sake, not of the perfume, but of the thorns.