say
at once of an old man! Well, yes, I am old, for the prime of life lies
behind me. And yet Katuti, my friend, wisest of women--explain to me one
thing. When I was young I was loved by many and admired many women, but
not one of them--not even my wife, who died young, was more to me than
a toy, a plaything; and now when I stretch out my hand for a girl, whose
father I might very well be--not for her own sake, but simply to serve
my purpose--and she refuses me, I feel as much disturbed, as much a fool
as-as that dealer in love-philters, Paaker."

"Have you spoken to Bent-Anat?" asked Katuti.

"And heard again from her own lips the refusal she had sent me through
you. You see my spirit has suffered!"

"And on what pretext did she reject your suit?" asked the widow.

"Pretext!" cried Ani. "Bent-Anat and pretext! It must be owned that she
has kingly pride, and not Ma--[The Goddess of Truth]--herself is more
truthful than she. That I should have to confess it! When I think of
her, our plots seem to me unutterably pitiful. My veins contain, indeed,
many drops of the blood of Thotmes, and though the experience of life
has taught me to stoop low, still the stooping hurts me. I have never
known the happy feeling of satisfaction with my lot and my work; for
I have always had a greater position than I could fill, and constantly
done less than I ought to have done. In order not to look always
resentful, I always wear a smile. I have nothing left of the face I was
born with but the mere skin, and always wear a mask. I serve him whose
master I believe I ought to be by birth; I hate Rameses, who, sincerely
or no, calls me his brother; and while I stand as if I were the bulwark
of his authority I am diligently undermining it. My whole existence is a
lie."

"But it will be truth," cried Katuti, "as soon as the Gods allow you to
be--as you are--the real king of this country."

"Strange!" said Ani smiling, Ameni, "this very day, used almost exactly
the same words. The wisdom of priests, and that of women, have much in
common, and they fight with the same weapons. You use words instead of
swords, traps instead of lances, and you cast not our bodies, but our
souls, into irons."

"Do you blame or praise us for it?" said the widow. "We are in any case
not impotent allies, and therefore, it seems to me, desirable ones."

"Indeed you are," said Ani smiling. "Not a tear is shed in the land,
whether it is shed for joy or for sorrow, fo