est obelisk of Hatasu were my drinking vessel, and that I might
drink as much as I would! But now--what have you to say of this noble
liquor, excellent Gagabu?"

The second prophet raised his beaker, and gazed lovingly at the golden
fluid; he tasted it slowly, and then said with his eyes turned to
heaven:

"I only fear that I am unworthy to thank the Gods for such a divine
blessing."

"Well said!" exclaimed the Regent Ani, who had re-entered the room
unobserved. "If my wine could speak, it would thank you for such a
speech."

"Hail to the Regent Ani!" shouted the guests, and they all rose with
their cups filled with his noble present.

He pledged them and then rose.

"Those," said he, "who have appreciated this wine, I now invite to dine
with me to-morrow. You will then meet with it again, and if you still
find it to your liking, you will be heartily welcome any evening. Now,
good night, friends."

A thunder of applause followed him, as he quitted the room.

The morning was already grey, when the carousing-party broke up; few of
the guests could find their way unassisted through the courtyard; most
of them had already been carried away by the slaves, who had waited for
them--and who took them on their heads, like bales of goods--and had
been borne home in their litters; but for those who remained to the end,
couches were prepared in the House of Seti, for a terrific storm was now
raging.

While the company were filling and refilling the beakers, which raised
their spirits to so wild a pitch, the prisoner Pentaur had been examined
in the presence of the Regent. Ameni's messenger had found the poet
on his knees, so absorbed in meditation that he did not perceive his
approach. All his peace of mind had deserted him, his soul was in a
tumult, and he could not succeed in obtaining any calm and clear control
over the new life-pulses which were throbbing in his heart.

He had hitherto never gone to rest at night without requiring of himself
an account of the past day, and he had always been able to detect the
most subtle line that divided right from wrong in his actions. But
to-night he looked back on a perplexing confusion of ideas and events,
and when he endeavored to sort them and arrange them, he could see
nothing clearly but the image of Bent-Anat, which enthralled his heart
and intellect.

He had raised his hand against his fellow-men, and dipped it in blood,
he desired to convince himself of his sin, and