this desire was of the Gods or born
of my own heart, not knowing, I cannot tell. So strong was it, at the
least, that before it was dawn I rose from my bed of straw and
clothed myself in my fisher garb, and, because I had no wish to answer
questions, thus I took farewell of my humble hosts. First I placed some
pieces of gold on the well-cleaned table of wood, and then taking a pot
of flour I strewed it in the form of letters, writing:

"This gift from Olympus, the Egyptian, who returns into the sea."

Then I went, and on the third day I came to the great city of Salamis,
that is also on the sea. Here I abode in the fishermen's quarters till
a vessel was about to sail for Alexandria, and to the captain of this
vessel, a man of Paphos, I hired myself as a sailor. We sailed with a
favouring wind, and on the fifth day I came to Alexandria, that hateful
city, and saw the light dancing on its golden domes.

Here I might not abide. So again I hired myself out as a sailor, giving
my labour in return for passage, and we passed up the Nile. And I
learned from the talk of men that Cleopatra had come back to Alexandria,
drawing Antony with her and that they lived together with royal state
in the palace on the Lochias. Indeed, the boatmen already had a song
thereon, which they sang as they laboured at the oar. Also I heard how
the galley that was sent to search for the vessel which carried the
Syrian merchant had foundered with all her crew, and the tale that the
Queen's astronomer, Harmachis, had flown to Heaven from the roof of the
house at Tarsus. And the sailors wondered because I sat and laboured and
would not sing their ribald song of the loves of Cleopatra. For they,
too, began to fear me, and mutter concerning me among themselves. Then
I knew that I was a man accursed and set apart--a man whom none might
love.

On the sixth day we drew nigh to Abouthis, where I left the craft, and
the sailors were right glad to see me go. And, with a breaking heart, I
walked through the fertile fields, seeing faces that I knew well. But in
my rough disguise and limping gait none knew me. At length, as the sun
sank, I came near to the great outer pylon of the temple; and here I
crouched down in the ruins of a house, not knowing why I had come or
what I was about to do. Like a lost ox I had strayed from far, back to
the fields of my birth, and for what? If my father, Amenemhat, still
lived, surely he would turn his face from me. I dared not