"Who succeeds him over Bubastis?"

"Merenra, another of the war-tried generals. He hath been commander
over Pa-Ramesu. Atsu takes his place over the Israelites."

"Atsu?" Kenkenes mused. "I know him not."

"He is a captain of chariots, and won much distinction during the Rebu
invasion. He is a native of Mendes."

Left alone, Kenkenes crossed the court to the door his father had
entered and emerged later in a street dress of mantle and close-fitting
coif. He took up the wallet and quitted the room. Passing through the
intramural park and the chamber of guests, he entered the street. It
was a narrow, featureless passage, scarcely wide enough to give room
for a chariot. The brown dust had more prints of naked than of
sandaled feet, for most men of the young sculptor's rank went abroad in
chariots.

Once out of the passage, he turned across the city toward the east.
Memphis had pushed aside her screens and shaken out her tapestries
after the noon rest and was deep in commerce once again. From the low
balconies overhead the Damascene carpets swung, lending festivity to
the energetic traffic below. The pillars of stacked ware flanking the
fronts of pottery shops were in a constant state of wreckage and
reconstruction; the stalls of fruiterers perfumed the air with crushed
and over-ripe produce; litters with dark-eyed occupants and fan-bearing
attendants stood before the doorways of lapidaries and booths of
stuffs; venders of images, unguents, trinkets and wines strove to