this country. And what wilt Thou say? Not
only was his property taken from him, but the stain of my origin rests
on me at present. Thou thyself knowest what I bear frequently from
Egyptians by race, though I have a considerable position. How, then,
can I take pity on the Egyptian earth-worker, who, seeing my yellow
complexion, mutters frequently, 'Pagan! foreigner!' The earth-worker is
neither a pagan nor a foreigner."

"Only a slave," added Pentuer, "a slave whom they marry, divorce, beat,
sell, slay sometimes, and command always to work, with a promise
besides that in the world to come he will be a slave also."

"Thou art a strange man, though so wise!" said the adjutant, shrugging
his shoulders. "Dost Thou not see that each man of us occupies some
position, low, less low, or very low, in which he must labor? But dost
Thou suffer because Thou art not pharaoh, and thy tomb will not be a
pyramid? Thou dost not ponder at all over this, for Thou knowest it to
be the world's condition. Each creature does its own duty: the ox
ploughs, the ass bears the traveler, I cool his worthiness, Thou
rememberest and thinkest for him, while the earth-worker tills land and
pays tribute. What is it to us that some bull is born Apis, to whom all
render homage, and some man a pharaoh or a nomarch?"

"The ten years' toil of that man was destroyed," whispered Pentuer.

"And does not the minister destroy thy toil?" asked the adjutant. "Who
knows that Thou art the manager of the state, not the worthy Herhor?"

"Thou art mistaken. He manages really. He has power and will; I have
only knowledge. Moreover, they do not beat thee, nor me, like that
slave."

"But they have beaten Eunana, and they may beat us also. Hence there is
need to be brave and make use of the position assigned us; all the more
since, as is known to thee, our spirit, the immortal Ka, in proportion
as it is purified rises to a higher plane, so that after thousands or
millions of years, in company with spirits of pharaohs and slaves, in
company with gods even, it will be merged into the nameless and all-
mighty father of existence."

"Thou speakest like a priest," answered Pentuer, with bitterness. "I
ought rather to have this calm! But instead of it I have pain in my
soul, for I feel the wretchedness of millions."

"Who tells it to thee?"

"My eyes and my heart. My heart is like a valley between mountains
which never can be silent, when it hears a cry, but must answer