dition of forgetting thy
previous trouble and present creditors, and then Ah, happy Ramses,
unusual surprises will await thee! For the term will pass, and thy
creditors will begin to visit thee under pretence of paying homage.
Thou wilt be like a deer hunted by dogs, or an Egyptian girl who, while
raising water from the river, sees the knotty back of a crocodile."

"All this seems very gladsome," interrupted Ramses, smiling; "but it
brings not one drachma."

"Never mind," continued Tutmosis. "I will go this moment to Dagon, the
Phoenician banker, and in the evening Thou wilt find peace, though he
may not have given thee money."

He hastened out, took his seat in a small litter, and surrounded by
servants vanished in the alleys of the park.

Before sunset Dagon, a Phoenician, the most noted banker in Memphis,
came to the house of Ramses. He was a man in the full bloom of life,
yellow, lean, but well built. He wore a blue tunic and over it a white
robe of thin texture. He had immense hair of his own, confined by a
gold circlet, and a great black beard, his own also. This rich growth
looked imposing in comparison with the wigs and false beards of
Egyptian exquisites.

The dwelling of the heir to the throne was swarming with youth of the
aristocracy. Some on the ground floor were bathing and anointing
themselves, others were playing chess and checkers on the first story,
others in company with dancing girls were drinking under tents on the
terrace. Ramses neither drank, played, nor talked with women; he walked
along one side of the terrace awaiting the Phoenician impatiently. When
he saw him emerge from an alley in a litter on two asses, he went to
the first story, where there was an unoccupied chamber.

After awhile Dagon appeared in the door. He knelt on the threshold and
exclaimed,

"I greet thee, new sun of Egypt! Mayst Thou live through eternity, and
may thy glory reach those distant shores which are visited by the ships
of Phoenicia."

At command of the prince, he rose and said with violent gesticulations,

"When the worthy Tutmosis descended before my mud hut my house is a mud
hut in comparison with thy palaces, erpatr such was the gleam from his
face that I cried at once to my wife, 'Tamara, the worthy Tutmosis has
come not from himself, but from one as much higher than he as the
Lebanon is higher than the sand of the seashore.' 'Whence dost Thou
know, my lord, that the worthy Tutmosis has not come for hi