s and lotus-flowers that hung from the painted
rafters; and from between the pillars, that were hung with cloudy
transparent tissues, they threw roses and violets down on the company.
The sounds of harps and songs issued from concealed rooms, and from an
altar, six ells high, in the middle of the hall, clouds of incense were
wafted into space.

The king-one of whose titles was "Son of the Sun,"--was as radiant as the
sun himself. His children were once more around him, Mena was his
cupbearer as in former times, and all that was best and noblest in the
land was gathered round him to rejoice with him in his triumph and his
return. Opposite to him sat the ladies, and exactly in front of him, a
delight to his eyes, Bent-Anat and Nefert. His injunction to Mena to hold
the wine cup steadily seemed by no means superfluous, for his looks
constantly wandered from the king's goblet to his fair wife, from whose
lips he as yet had heard no word of welcome, whose hand he had not yet
been so happy as to touch.

All the guests were in the most joyful excitement. Rameses related the
tale of his fight at Kadesh, and the high-priest of Heliopolis observed
In later times the poets will sing of thy deeds."

"Their songs will not be of my achievements," exclaimed the king, "but of
the grace of the Divinity, who so miraculously rescued your sovereign,
and gave the victory to the Egyptians over an innumerable enemy."

"Did you see the God with your own eyes? and in what form did he appear
to you?" asked Bent-Anat. "It is most extraordinary," said the king, "but
he exactly resembled the dead father of the traitor Paaker. My preserver
was of tall stature, and had a beautiful countenance; his voice was deep
and thrilling, and he swung his battle-axe as if it were a mere
plaything."

Ameni had listened eagerly to the king's words, now he bowed low before
him and said humbly: "If I were younger I myself would endeavor, as was
the custom with our fathers, to celebrate this glorious deed of a God and
of his sublime son in a song worthy of this festival; but melting tones
are no longer mine, they vanish with years, and the car of the listener
lends itself only to the young. Nothing is wanting to thy feast, most
lordly Ani, but a poet, who might sing the glorious deeds of our monarch
to the sound of his lute, and yet--we have at hand the gifted Pentaur,
the noblest disciple of the House of Seti."

Bent-Anat turned perfectly white, and the priest