hat they were faithful to
him, stood the prince Rameri, who nodded triumphantly to his sister, and
Anana stepped forward to inform the honored teacher in a solemn and
well-studied speech, that, in the event of Ameni refusing to recall him,
they had decided requesting their fathers to place them at another
school.

The young sage spoke well, and Bent-Anat followed his words, not without
approbation; but Pentaur's face grew darker, and before his favorite
disciple had ended his speech he interrupted him sternly.

His voice was at first reproachful, and then complaining, and loud as he
spoke, only sorrow rang in his tones, and not anger.

"In truth," he concluded, "every word that I have spoken to you I could
but find it in me to regret, if it has contributed to encourage you to
this mad act. You were born in palaces; learn to obey, that later you may
know how to command. Back to your school! You hesitate? Then I will come
out against you with the watchman, and drive you back, for you do me and
yourselves small honor by such a proof of affection. Go back to the
school you belong to."

The school-boys dared make no answer, but surprised and disenchanted
turned to go home.

Bent-Anat cast down her eyes as she met those of her brother, who
shrugged his shoulders, and then she looked half shyly, half
respectfully, at the poet; but soon again her eyes turned to the plain
below, for thick dust-clouds whirled across it, the sound of hoofs and
the rattle of wheels became audible, and at the same moment the chariot
of Septah, the chief haruspex, and a vehicle with the heavily-armed guard
of the House of Seti, stopped near the terrace.

The angry old man sprang quickly to the ground, called the host of
escaped pupils to him in a stern voice, ordered the guard to drive them
back to the school, and hurried up to the temple gates like a vigorous
youth. The priests received him with the deepest reverence, and at once
laid their complaints before him.

He heard them willingly, but did not let them discuss the matter; then,
though with some difficulty, he quickly mounted the steps, down which
Bent-Anat came towards him.

The princess felt that she would divert all the blame and
misunderstanding to herself, if Septah recognized her; her hand
involuntarily reached for her veil, but she drew it back quickly, looked
with quiet dignity into the old man's eyes, which flashed with anger, and
proudly passed by him. The haruspex bowed, b