As Pentaur approached the great gate of the terrace-temple, he became the witness of a scene which filled him with resentment.

A woman implored to be admitted into the forecourt, to pray at the altar of the Goddess for her husband, who was very ill, but the sleek gate-keeper drove her back with rough words.

“It is written up,” said he, pointing to the inscription over the gate, “only the purified may set their foot across this threshold, and you cannot be purified but by the smoke of incense.”

“Then swing the censer for me,” said the woman, and take this silver ring—­it is all I have.”

“A silver ring!” cried the porter, indignantly.  “Shall the goddess be impoverished for your sake!  The grains of Anta, that would be used in purifying you, would cost ten times as much.”

“But I have no more,” replied the woman, “my husband, for whom I come to pray, is ill; he cannot work, and my children—­”

“You fatten them up and deprive the goddess of her due,” cried the gate-keeper.  “Three rings down, or I shut the gate.”

“Be merciful,” said the woman, weeping.  “What will become of us if Hathor does not help my husband?”

“Will our goddess fetch the doctor?” asked the porter.  “She has something to do besides curing sick starvelings.  Besides, that is not her office.  Go to Imhotep or to Chunsu the counsellor, or to the great Techuti herself, who helps the sick.  There is no quack medicine to be got here.”

“I only want comfort in my trouble,” said the woman.

“Comfort!” laughed the gate-keeper, measuring the comely young woman with his eye.  “That you may have cheaper.”

The woman turned pale, and drew back from the hand the man stretched out towards her.

At this moment Pentaur, full of wrath, stepped between them.

He raised his hand in blessing over the woman, who bent low before him, and said, “Whoever calls fervently on the Divinity is near to him.  You are pure.  Enter.”

As soon as she had disappeared within the temple, the priest turned to the gate-keeper and exclaimed:  “Is this how you serve the goddess, is this how you take advantage of a heart-wrung woman?  Give me the keys of this gate.  Your office is taken from you, and early to-morrow you go out in the fields, and keep the geese of Hathor.”

The porter threw himself on his knees with loud outcries; but Pentaur turned his back upon him, entered the sanctuary, and mounted the steps which led to his dwelling on the third terrace.

A few priests whom he passed turned their backs upon him, others looked down at their dinners, eating noisily, and making as if they did not see him.  They had combined strongly, and were determined to expel the inconvenient intruder at any price.

Having reached his room, which had been splendidly decorated for his predecessor, Pentaur laid aside his new insignia, comparing sorrowfully the past and the present.