y the
leg or under the arm), or else in the coffin trader, or near, the
mummy.]

That will give you power over all demons, and you will be admitted to the
hall of the twofold justice, which punishes and rewards, and your award
will be bliss."

"But the theft of a heart will make the weight of my sins heavy, when my
own heart is weighed," sighed the old man.

Nebsecht considered for a moment, and then said: "I will give you a
written paper, in which I will certify that it was I who commanded the
theft. You will sew it up in a little bag, carry it on your breast, and
have it laid with you in the grave. Then when Techuti, the agent of the
soul, receives your justification before Osiris and the judges of the
dead, give him the writing. He will read it aloud, and you will be
accounted just."

[The vignettes of Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead represent the
Last Judgment of the Egyptians. Under a canopy Osiris sits
enthroned as Chief Judge, 42 assessors assist him. In the hall
stand the scales; the dog headed ape, the animal sacred to Toth,
guides the balance. In one scale lies the heart of the dead man, in
the other the image of the goddess of Truth, who introduces the soul
into the hall of justice Toth writs the record. The soul affirms
that it has not committed 42 deadly sins, and if it obtains credit,
it is named "maa cheru," i.e. "the truth-speaker," and is therewith
declared blessed. It now receives its heart back, and grows into a
new and divine life.]

"I am not learned in writing," muttered the paraschites with a slight
mistrust that made itself felt in his voice.

"But I swear to you by the nine great Gods, that I will write nothing on
the paper but what I have promised you. I will confess that I, the priest
Nebsecht, commanded you to take the heart, and that your guilt is mine."

"Let me have the writing then," murmured the old man.

The physician wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and gave the
paraschites his hand. "To-morrow you shall have it," he said, "and I will
not leave your granddaughter till she is well again."

The soldier engaged in cutting up the ram, had heard nothing of this
conversation. Now he ran a wooden spit through the legs, and held them
over the fire to roast them. The jackals howled louder as the smell of
the melting fat filled the air, and the old man, as he looked on, forgot
the terrible task he had undertaken. For a year past, no