riest. She was the Royal
Daughter, the Princess Userti, who looked, I thought, prouder and more
splendid than any there, though somewhat pale and anxious.

Pharaoh came to the steps of the throne. The Vizier and the High-priest
advanced to help him up the steps, for he was feeble with age. He waved
them aside, and beckoning to his daughter, rested his hand upon her
shoulder and by her aid mounted the throne. I thought that there was
meaning in this; it was as though he would show to all the assembly that
this princess was the prop of Egypt.

For a little while he stood still and Userti sat herself down on the
topmost step, resting her chin upon her jewelled hand. There he stood
searching the place with his eyes. He lifted his sceptre and all rose,
hundreds and hundreds of them throughout the hall, their garments
rustling as they rose like leaves in a sudden wind. He seated himself
and once more from every throat went up the regal salutation that was
the king's alone, of--

"Life! Blood! Strength! Pharaoh! Pharaoh! Pharaoh!"

In the silence that followed I heard him say, to the Princess, I think:

"Amenmeses I see, and others of our kin, but where is my son Seti, the
Prince of Egypt?"

"Watching us no doubt from some vestibule. My brother loves not
ceremonials," answered Userti.

Then, with a little sigh, Seti stepped forward, followed by Bakenkhonsu
and myself, and at a distance by other members of his household. As he
marched up the long hall all drew to this side or that, saluting him
with low bows. Arriving in front of the throne he bent till his knee
touched the ground, saying:

"I give greeting, O King and Father."

"I give greeting, O Prince and Son. Be seated," answered Meneptah.

Seti seated himself in a chair that had been made ready for him at the
foot of the throne, and on its right, and in another chair to the left,
but set farther from the steps, Amenmeses seated himself also. At a
motion from the Prince I took my stand behind his chair.

The formal business of the Court began. At the beckoning of an usher
people of all sorts appeared singly and handed in petitions written on
rolled-up papyri, which the Vizier Nehesi took and threw into a leathern
sack that was held open by a black slave. In some cases an answer to his
petition, whereof this was only the formal delivery, was handed back
to the suppliant, who touched his brow with the roll that perhaps
meant everything to him, and bowed himself