g me draped
against the morning cold. The man drew near, and addressing me over the
head of the guard, asked if he could see the lady Merapi. I answered No,
as she was engaged in nursing her son.

"And in other things, I think," he said with meaning, in a voice that
seemed familiar to me. "Well, can I see the Prince Seti?"

I answered No, he was also engaged.

"In nursing his own soul, studying the eyes of the lady Merapi, the
smile of his infant, the wisdom of the scribe Ana, and the attributes
of the hundred and one gods that are known to him, including that of
Israel, I suppose," said the familiar voice, adding, "Then can I see
this scribe Ana, who I understand, being lucky, holds himself learned."

Now, angered at the scoffing of this stranger (though all the time I
felt that he was none), I answered that the scribe Ana was striving to
mend his luck by the pursuit of the goddess of learning in his study.

"Let him pursue," mocked the stranger, "since she is the only woman that
he is ever likely to catch. Yet it is true that once one caught him. If
you are of his acquaintance ask him of his talk with her in the avenue
of the Sphinxes outside the great temple at Thebes and of what it cost
him in gold and tears."

Hearing this I put my hand to my forehead and rubbed my eyes, thinking
that I must have fallen into a dream there in the sunshine. When I
lifted it again all was the same as before. There stood the sentry,
indifferent to that which had no interest for him; the cock that had
moulted its tail still scratched in the dirt; the crested hoopoe still
sat spreading its wings on the head of one of the two great statues of
Rameses which watched the gate; a water-seller in the distance still
cried his wares, but the stranger was gone. Then I knew that I had been
dreaming and turned to go also, to find myself face to face with him.

"Man," I said, indignantly, "how in the name of Ptah and all his priests
did you pass a sentry and through that gate without my seeing you?"

"Do not trouble yourself with a new problem when already you have so
many to perplex you, friend Ana. Say, have you yet solved that of how
a rod like this turned itself into a snake in your hand?" and he threw
back his hood, revealing the shaved head and the glowing eyes of the
Kherheb Ki.

"No, I have not," I answered, "and I thank you," for here he proffered
me the staff, "but I will not try the trick again. Next time the beast
might bite. W