land, must pay as in the end they pay for all. Some dynasties have gone
by, it seems, since there was such a librarian, I think because most of
the heirs to the throne could not, or did not, read. Also by chance I
mentioned the matter to the Vizier Nehesi who grudges me every ounce of
gold I spend, as though it were one taken out of his own pouch, which
perhaps it is. He answered with that crooked smile of his:

"'Since I know well, Prince, that there is no scribe in Egypt whom you
would suffer about you for a single month, I will set the cost of a
librarian at the figure at which it stood in the Eleventh Dynasty upon
the roll of your Highness's household and defray it from the Royal
Treasury until he is discharged.'

"Therefore, Scribe Ana, I offer you this post for one month; that is
all for which I can promise you will be paid whatever it may be, for I
forget the sum."

"I thank you, O Prince," I exclaimed.

"Do not thank me. Indeed if you are wise you will refuse. You have met
Pambasa. Well, Nehesi is Pambasa multiplied by ten, a rogue, a thief, a
bully, and one who has Pharaoh's ear. He will make your life a torment
to you and clip every ring of gold that at length you wring out of
his grip. Moreover the place is wearisome, and I am fanciful and often
ill-humoured. Do not thank me, I say. Refuse; return to Memphis and
write stories. Shun courts and their plottings. Pharaoh himself is but a
face and a puppet through which other voices talk and other eyes shine,
and the sceptre which he wields is pulled by strings. And if this is so
with Pharaoh, what is the case with his son? Then there are the women,
Ana. They will make love to you, Ana, they even do so to me, and I think