al appetites may beget noble
fruit, but hatred is a devastator, and in the soul that it occupies all
that is noble grows not upwards and towards the light, but downwards to
the earth and to darkness. Everything may be forgiven by the Gods, save
only hatred between man and man. But there is another sort of hatred
that is pleasing to the Gods, and which you must cherish if you would
not miss their presence in your souls; that is, hatred for all that
hinders the growth of light and goodness and purity--the hatred of Horus
for Seth. The Gods would punish me if I hated Paaker whose father was
dear to me; but the spirits of darkness would possess the old heart
in my breast if it were devoid of horror for the covetous and sordid
devotee, who would fain buy earthly joys of the Gods with gifts of
beasts and wine, as men exchange an ass for a robe, in whose soul
seethe dark promptings. Paaker's gifts can no more be pleasing to the
Celestials than a cask of attar of roses would please thee, haruspex, in
which scorpions, centipedes, and venomous snakes were swimming. I have
long led this man's prayers, and never have I heard him crave for noble
gifts, but a thousand times for the injury of the men he hates."

"In the holiest prayers that come down to us from the past," said the
haruspex, "the Gods are entreated to throw our enemies under our feet;
and, besides, I have often heard Paaker pray fervently for the bliss of
his parents."

"You are a priest and one of the initiated," cried Gagabu, "and you know
not--or will not seem to know--that by the enemies for whose overthrow
we pray, are meant only the demons of darkness and the outlandish
peoples by whom Egypt is endangered! Paaker prayed for his parents? Ay,
and so will he for his children, for they will be his future as his fore
fathers are his past. If he had a wife, his offerings would be for her
too, for she would be the half of his own present."

"In spite of all this," said the haruspex Septah, "you are too hard in
your judgment of Paaker, for although he was born under a lucky sign,
the Hathors denied him all that makes youth happy. The enemy for whose
destruction he prays is Mena, the king's charioteer, and, indeed, he
must have been of superhuman magnanimity or of unmanly feebleness, if he
could have wished well to the man who robbed him of the beautiful wife
who was destined for him."

"How could that happen?" asked the priest from Chennu. "A betrothal is
sacred."