hers, 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 priests who were present
expressed the utmost joy and astonishment, for they had long thought the
young poet, who was highly esteemed throughout Egypt, to be dead.

The king had often heard of the fame of Pentaur from his sons and
especially from Rameri, and he willingly consented that Ameni should
send for the poet, who had himself borne arms at Kadesh, in order that
he should sing a song of triumph. The Regent gazed blankly and uneasily
into his wine cup, and the high-priest rose to fetch Pentaur himself
into the presence of the king.

During the high-priest's absence, more and more dishes were served to
the company; behind each guest stood a silver bowl with rose water, in
which from time to time he could dip his fingers to cool and clean them;
the slaves in waiting were constantly at hand with embroidered napkins
to wipe them, and others frequently changed the faded wreaths, round the
heads and shoulders of the feasters, for fresh ones.

"How pale you are, my child!" said Rameses turning to Bent-Anat. "If you
are tired, your uncle will no doubt allow you to leave the hall; though
I think you should stay to hear the performance of this much-lauded
poet. After having been so highly praised he will find it difficult to
satisfy his hearers. But indeed I am uneasy about you, my child--would
you rather go?" The Regent had risen and said earnestly, "Your presence
has done me honor, but if you are fatigued I beg you to allow me to
conduct you and your ladies to the apartments intended for you."

"I will stay," said Bent-Anat in a low but decided tone, and she kept
her eyes on the floor, while her heart beat violently, for the murmur
of voices told her that Pentaur was entering the hall. He wore the long
white robe of a priest of the temple of Seti, and on his forehead the
ostrich-feather which marked him as one of the initiated. He did not
raise his eyes till he stood close before the king; then he prostrated
himself before him, and