“My noble mother, Tuaa, desired me, the first time I went into Fenchu —­[Phoenicia:  on monuments of the 18th dynasty.]—­to bring her a pebble from the shore near Byblos, where the body of Osiris was washed.  As we returned to Thebes, my mother’s request returned to my mind; I was young and thoughtless—­I picked up a stone by the way-side, took it with me, and when she asked me for the remembrance from Byblos I silently gave her the pebble from Thebes.  She was delighted, she showed it to her brothers and sisters, and laid it by the statues of her ancestors; but I was miserable with shame and penitence, and at last I secretly took away the stone, and threw it into the water.  All the servants were called together, and strict enquiry was made as to the theft of the stone; then I could hold out no longer, and confessed everything.  No one punished me, and yet I never suffered more severely; from that time I have never deviated from the exact truth even in jest.  Take the lesson to heart, Mernephtah—­you, Rameri, take back your sword, and, believe me, life brings us so many real causes of vexation, that it is well to learn early to pass lightly over little things if you do not wish to become a surly fellow like the pioneer Paaker; and that seems far from likely with a gay, reckless temper like yours.  Now shake hands with each other.”

The young princes went up to each other, and Rameri fell on his brother’s neck and kissed him.  The king stroked their heads.  “Now go in peace,” he said, “and to-morrow you shall both strive to win a fresh mark of honor.”

When his sons had left the tent, Rameses turned to his charioteer and said:  “I have to speak to you too before the battle.  I can read your soul through your eyes, and it seems to me that things have gone wrong with you since the keeper of your stud arrived here.  What has happened in Thebes?” Mena looked frankly, but sadly at the king: 

“My mother-in-law Katuti,” he said, “is managing my estate very badly, pledging the land, and selling the cattle.”

“That can be remedied,” said Rameses kindly.  “You know I promised to grant you the fulfilment of a wish, if Nefert trusted you as perfectly as you believe.  But it appears to me as if something more nearly concerning you than this were wrong, for I never knew you anxious about money and lands.  Speak openly! you know I am your father, and the heart and the eye of the man who guides my horses in battle, must be open without reserve to my gaze.”

Mena kissed the king’s robe; then he said: 

“Nefert has left Katuti’s house, and as thou knowest has followed thy daughter, Bent-Anat, to the sacred mountain, and to Megiddo.”

“I thought the change was a good one,” replied Rameses.  “I leave Bent-Anat in the care of Bent-Anat, for she needs no other guardianship, and your wife can have no better protector than Bent-Anat.”

“Certainly not!” exclaimed Mena with sincere emphasis.  “But before they started, miserable things occurred.  Thou knowest that before she married me she was betrothed to her cousin, the pioneer Paaker, and he, during his stay in Thebes, has gone in and out of my house, has helped Katuti with an enormous sum to pay the debts of my wild brother-in-law, and-as my stud-keeper saw with his own eyes-has made presents of flowers to Nefert.”