the way, you know about everything: have they got back his chlamys yet,
which Mithridates took to Cos? Pompey wore it last, didn't he?--in his
triumph, too--just fancy Pompey in the cloak of Alexander!--a puppy-dog
in a lion's skin! And talking of lions--look what this lad hath
done--slain a lion with his own spear; and right glad you village folks
should be to see it, for it was a very fierce lion--just see his teeth
and his claws--his claws!--they are enough to make a poor silly old
woman like me shriek to look at them! And the body there, the dead
body--the lion slew it. Alack! he's an Osiris[*] now, the body--and to
think of it, but an hour ago he was an everyday mortal like you or me!
Well, away with him to the embalmers. He'll soon swell in the sun and
burst, and that will save them the trouble of cutting him open. Not
that they will spend a talent of silver over him anyway. Seventy days in
natron--that's all he's likely to get. _La! la!_ how my tongue does run,
and it's getting dark. Come, aren't you going to take away the body of
that poor lad, and the lion, too? There, my boy, you keep those herbs
on, and you'll never feel your scratches. I know a thing or two for all
I'm crazy, and you, my own grandson! Dear, dear, I'm glad his Holiness
the High Priest adopted you when Pharaoh--Osiris bless his holy
name--made an end of his son; you look so bonny. I warrant the real
Harmachis could not have killed a lion like that. Give me the common
blood, I say--it's so lusty."

[*] The soul when it has been absorbed in the Godhead.--
Editor.

"You know too much and talk too fast," grumbled the spy, now quite
deceived. "Well, he is a brave youth. Here, you men, bear this body back
to Abouthis, and some of you stop and help me skin the lion. We'll send
the skin to you, young man," he went on; "not that you deserve it: to