He now glanced first at some unimportant letters. A dumb negro, who
squatted at his feet, burned the papyrus rolls which his master gave him
in a brazier. A secretary made notes of the short facts which Ani called
out to him, and the ground work was laid of the answers to the different
letters.

At a sign from his master this functionary quitted the room, and Ani then
slowly opened a letter from the king, whose address: "To my brother
Ani," showed that it contained, not public, but private information.

On these lines, as he well knew, hung his future life, and the road it
should follow.

With a smile, that was meant to conceal even from himself his deep inward
agitation, he broke the wax which sealed the short manuscript in the
royal hand.

"What relates to Egypt, and my concern for my country, and the happy
issue of the war," wrote the Pharaoh, "I have written to you by the hand
of my secretary; but these words are for the brother, who desires to be
my son, and I write to him myself. The lordly essence of the Divinity
which dwells in me, readily brings a quick 'Yes' or 'No' to my lips, and
it decides for the best. Now you demand my daughter Bent-Anat to wife,
and I should not be Rameses if I did not freely confess that before I had
read the last words of your letter, a vehement 'No' rushed to my lips.
I caused the stars to be consulted, and the entrails of the victims to be
examined, and they were adverse to your request; and yet I could not
refuse you, for you are dear to me, and your blood is royal as my own.
Even more royal, an old friend said, and warned me against your ambition
and your exaltation. Then my heart changed, for I were not Seti's son