the table.

"I am honoured," he said in a pleased voice, "I am greatly honoured.
If I like it well, your story shall go to the tomb with me for my Ka
to read and re-read until the day of resurrection, though first I will
study it in the flesh. Do you know this city of Tanis, Ana?"

I answered that I knew little of it, who had spent my time here haunting
the doors of his Highness.

"Then with your leave I will be your guide through it this night, and
afterwards we will sup and talk."

I bowed and he clapped his hands, whereon a servant appeared, not
Pambasa, but another.

"Bring two cloaks," said the Prince, "I go abroad with the scribe, Ana.
Let a guard of four Nubians, no more, follow us, but at a distance and
disguised. Let them wait at the private entrance."

The man bowed and departed swiftly.

Almost immediately a black slave appeared with two long hooded cloaks,
such as camel-drivers wear, which he helped us to put on. Then, taking
a lamp, he led us from the room through a doorway opposite to that by
which I had entered, down passages and a narrow stair that ended in a
courtyard. Crossing this we came to a wall, great and thick, in which
were double doors sheathed with copper that opened mysteriously at our
approach. Outside of these doors stood four tall men, also wrapped in
cloaks, who seemed to take no note of us. Still, looking back when we
had gone a little way, I observed that they were following us, as though
by chance.

How fine a thing, thought I to myself, it is to be a Prince who by
lifting a finger can thus command service at any moment of the day or
night.

Just at that moment Seti said to me:

"See, Ana, how sad a thing it is to be a Prince, who cannot even stir
abroad without notice to his household and commanding the service of a
secret guard to spy upon his every action, and doubtless to make report
thereof to the police of Pharaoh."

There are two faces to everything, thought I to myself again.

CHAPTER II

THE BREAKING OF THE CUP

We walked down a broad street bordered by trees, beyond which were
lime-washed, flat-roofed houses built of sun-dried brick, standing,
each of them, in its own garden, till at length we came to the great
market-place just as the full moon rose above the palm-trees, making the
world almost as light as day. Tanis, or Rameses as it is also called,
was a very fine city then, if only half the size of Memphis, though
now that the Court has left it I he