caution the whole
history of the exchange of Paaker for Pentaur, and she followed the
story with attention but with indifference, as if she were hearing of
the adventures of others who did not concern her. When Ameni enlarged on
the genius of the poet and on his perfect resemblance to his dead father
she muttered:

"I know--I know. You mean the speaker at the Feast of the Valley,"
and then although she had been told several times that Paaker had been
killed, she asked again if her son was alive.

Ameni decided at last to fetch Pentaur himself,

When he came back with him, fully prepared to meet his heavily-stricken
mother, the tent was empty. The high-priest's servants told him that
Setchem had persuaded the easily-moved old prophet Gagabu to conduct her
to the place where the body of Paaker lay. Ameni was very much vexed,
for he feared that Setchem was now lost indeed, and he desired the poet
to follow him at once.

The mortal remains of the pioneer had been laid in a tent not far from
the scene of the fire; his body was covered with a cloth, but his pale
face, which had not been injured in his fall, remained uncovered; by his
side knelt the unhappy mother.

She paid no heed to Ameni when he spoke to her, and he laid his hand on
her shoulder and said as he pointed to the body:

"This was the son of a gardener. You brought him up faithfully as if he
were your own; but your noble husband's true heir, the son you bore him,
is Pentaur, to whom the Gods have given not only the form and features
but the noble qualities of his father. The dead man may be forgiven--for
the sake of your virtues; but your love is due to this nobler soul--the
real son of your husband, the poet of Egypt, the preserver of the king's
life."

Setchem rose and went up to Pentaur, she smiled at him and stroked his
face and breast.

"It is he," she said. "May the Immortals bless him!"

Pentaur would have clasped her in his arms, but she pushed him away as
if she feared to commit some breach of faith, and turning hastily to the
bier she said softly:

"Poor Paaker--poor, poor Paaker!"

"Mother, mother, do you not know your son?" cried Pentaur deeply moved.

She turned to him again: "It is his voice," she said. "It is he."

She went up to Pentaur, clung to him, clasped her arm around his neck as
he bent over her, then kissing him fondly:

"The Gods will bless you!" she said once more. She tore herself from
him and threw herself down by th