Ladice knelt down by her child’s bed and pressed her lips in burning kisses on the girl’s eyes as they grew dim in death.

An hour later she was standing by another bedside—­her dying husband’s.

Severe suffering had disfigured the king’s features, the cold perspiration was standing on his forehead, and his hands grasped the golden lions on the arms of the deep-seated invalid chair in which he was resting, almost convulsively.

When Ladice came in he opened his eyes; they were as keen and intelligent as if he had never lost his sight.

“Why do not you bring Tachot to me?” he asked in a dry voice.

“She is too ill, and suffers so much, that . . .”

“She is dead!  Then it is well with her, for death is not punishment; it is the end and aim of life,—­the only end that we can attain without effort, but through sufferings!—­the gods alone know how great.  Osiris has taken her to himself, for she was innocent.  And Nitetis is dead too.  Where is Nebenchari’s letter?”

“Here is the place:  ’She took her own life, and died calling down a heavy curse on thee and thine.  The poor, exiled, scorned and plundered oculist Nebenchari in Babylon sends thee this intelligence to Egypt.  It is as true as his own hatred of thee.’  Listen to these words, Psamtik, and remember how on his dying bed thy father told thee that, for every drachm of pleasure purchased on earth by wrong-doing, the dying bed will be burdened by a talent’s weight of remorse.  Fearful misery is coming on Egypt for Nitetis’ sake.  Cambyses is preparing to make war on us.  He will sweep down on Egypt like a scorching wind from the desert.  Much, which I have staked my nightly sleep and the very marrow of my existence to bring into existence, will be annihilated.  Still I have not lived in vain.  For forty years I have been the careful father and benefactor of a great nation.  Children and children’s children will speak of Amasis as a great, wise and humane king; they will read my name on the great works which I have built in Sais and Thebes, and will praise the greatness of my power.  Neither shall I be condemned by Osiris and the forty-two judges of the nether world; the goddess of truth, who holds the balances, will find that my good deeds outweigh my bad.”—­Here the king sighed deeply and remained silent for some time.  Then, looking tenderly at his wife, he said:  “Ladice, thou hast been a faithful, virtuous wife to me.  For this I thank thee, and ask thy forgiveness for much.  We have often misunderstood one another.  Indeed it was easier for me to accustom myself to the Greek modes of thought, than for a Greek to understand our Egyptian ideas.  Thou know’st my love of Greek art,—­thou know’st how I enjoyed the society of thy friend Pythagoras, who was thoroughly initiated in all that we believe and know, and adopted much from us.  He comprehended the deep wisdom which lies in the doctrines that I reverence most, and he took care