“Certainly, Master,” said the guide.  “There is no older family than his in all Egypt, and if old Menas was rich the Mukaukas is richer, both by inheritance and by his wife’s dower.  Nor could we wish for a more sensible or a juster governor!  He keeps his eye on his underlings too; still, business is not done now as briskly as formerly, for though he is not much older than I am—­and I am not yet sixty—­he is always ailing and has not been seen out of the house for months.  Even when your chief wants to see him he comes over to this side of the river.  It is a pity with such a man as he; and who was it that broke down his stalwart strength?  Why, those Melchite dogs; you may ask all along the Nile, long as it is, who was at the bottom of any misfortune, and you will always get the same answer:  Wherever the Melchite or the Greek sets foot the grass refuses to grow.”

“But the Mukaukas, the emperor’s representative . . . the Arab began.  The Egyptian broke in however: 

“He, you think, must be safe from them?  They did not certainly injure his person; but they did worse, for when the Melchites rose up against our party—­it was at Alexandria, and the late Greek patriarch Cyrus had a finger in that pie—­they killed his two sons, two fine, splendid men—­killed them like dogs; and it crushed him completely.”

“Poor man!” sighed the Arab.  “And has he no child left?”

“Oh, yes.  One son, and the widow of his eldest.  She went into a convent after her husband’s death, but she left her child, her little Mary—­she must be ten years old now—­to live with her grandparents.”

“That is well,” said the old man, “that will bring some sunshine into the house.”

“No doubt, Master.  And just lately they have had some cause for rejoicing.  The only surviving son—­Orion is his name—­came home only the day before yesterday from Constantinople where he has been for a long time.  There was a to-do!  Half the city went crazy.  Thousands went out to meet him, as though he were the Saviour; they erected triumphal arches, even folks of my creed—­no one thought of hanging back.  One and all wanted to see the son of the great Mukaukas, and the women of course were first and foremost!”

“You speak, however,” said the Arab, “as though the returning hero were not worthy of so much honor.”

“That is as folks think,” replied the Egyptian shrugging his shoulders.  “At any rate he is the only son of the greatest man in the land.”

“But he does not promise to be like the old man?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” said the guide.  “My brother, a priest, and the head of one of our great schools, was his tutor, and he never met such a clever head as Orion’s, he tells me.  He learnt everything without any trouble and at the same time worked as hard as a poor man’s son.  We may expect him to win fame and honor—­so Marcus says—­for his parents and for the city of Memphis:  but for my part, I can see the shady side, and I tell you the women will turn his head and bring him to a bad end.  He is handsome, taller even than the old man in his best days, and he knows how to make the most of himself when he meets a pretty face—­and pretty faces are always to be met in his path . . .”