born of the brains of men whose wish ran before their thought. I was,
indeed, of the Royal blood, that I knew: for my uncle, Sepa the Priest,
showed me a secret record of the descent, traced without break from
father to son, and graven in mystic symbols on a tablet of the stone
of Syene. But of what avail was it to be Royal by right when Egypt, my
heritage, was a slave--a slave to do the pleasure and minister to the
luxury of the Macedonian Lagidæ--ay, and when she had been so long a
serf that, perchance, she had forgotten how to put off the servile smile
of Bondage and once more to look across the world with Freedom's happy
eyes?

Then I bethought me of my prayer upon the pylon tower of Abouthis and of
the answer given to my prayer, and wondered if that, too, were a dream.

And one night, as, weary with study, I walked within the sacred grove
that is in the garden of the temple, and mused thus, I met my uncle
Sepa, who also was walking and thinking.

"Hold!" he cried in his great voice; "why is thy face so sad, Harmachis?
Has the last problem that we studied overwhelmed thee?"

"Nay, my uncle," I answered, "I am overwhelmed indeed, but not of the
problem; it was a light one. My heart is heavy, for I am weary of life
within these cloisters, and the piled-up weight of knowledge crushes me.
It is of no avail to store up force which cannot be used."

"Ah, thou art impatient, Harmachis," he answered; "it is ever the way
of foolish youth. Thou wouldst taste of the battle; thou dost tire of
watching the breakers fall upon the beach, thou wouldst plunge into
them and venture the desperate hazard of the war. And so thou wouldst be