s on their hair.

From the Mediterranean to the first cataract of the Nile, from the
Libyan desert to the peninsula of Sinai reigned sadness and silence.
The sun of Egypt had quenched, had gone to the West, the giver of life
and gladness had deserted his servants.

In the highest circles the most fashionable conversation touched the
universal sorrow, which was communicated even to nature.

"Hast Thou not observed," said one dignitary to another, "that the days
are shorter and darker?"

"I did not wish to unburden myself of this before thee," replied the
other, "but it is so in reality. I have even noticed that fewer stars
shine at night, and that the full moon lasts a shorter time, and the
new moon longer than usual."

"The shepherds say that cattle at pasture will not eat, they only
bellow."

"And I have heard from hunters that lions are reduced by weeping; they
do not attack deer, for lions eat no meat at present."

"A terrible time! Come to me this evening and we will drink a glass of
mourning liquor which my cellarer has invented."

"Thou hast, I suppose, dark beer of Sidon?"

"May the gods forbid that at this time we should use drinks which
rejoice people. The liquor which my cellarer has invented is not beer;
it is more like wine mixed with musk and fragrant plants."

"A very proper drink when our lord is sojourning in the quarter of the
dead, where the odor of musk and embalming herbs is always prevalent."

Thus during seventy days did dignitaries mortify themselves.

The first quiver of delight ran through Egypt when it was announced
from the quarter of the dead that the body of the sovereign had been
taken from the soda bath, and that embalmers and priests were
performing ceremonies over it.

That day for the first time people cut their hair and whoso had the
wish washed himself. But in fact there was no need of mortification,
since Horus had found the remains of Osiris. The ruler of Egypt, thanks
to the art of embalmers, had received life, and, thanks to the prayers
of the priests and the Book of the Dead, he had become equal to the
gods.

From that moment on, the late pharaoh, Mer-Amen-Ramses, was called
"Osiris" officially; unofficially, he had been called that since his
death.

The innate joyfulness of the Egyptian people began to gain the victory
over mourning, especially among warriors, artisans, and laborers.
Delight took on, among common people, forms which at times were
inappropriat