When she became a widow, she was received as a sister with her children
by her brother-in-law, Paaker's father. She lived in a house of her own,
enjoyed the income of an estate assigned to her by the old Mohar, and
left to her son-in-law the care of educating her son, a handsome and
overbearing lad, with all the claims and pretensions of a youth of
distinction.

Such great benefits would have oppressed and disgraced the proud Katuti,
if she had been content with them and in every way agreed with the giver.
But this was by no means the case; rather, she believed that she might
pretend to a more brilliant outward position, felt herself hurt when her
heedless son, while he attended school, was warned to work more
seriously, as he would by and by have to rely on his own skill and his
own strength. And it had wounded her when occasionally her brother-in-
law had suggested economy, and had reminded her, in his straightforward
way, of her narrow means, and the uncertain future of her children.

At this she was deeply offended, for she ventured to say that her
relatives could never, with all their gifts, compensate for the insults
they heaped upon her; and thus taught them by experience that we quarrel
with no one more readily than with the benefactor whom we can never repay
for all the good he bestows on us.

Nevertheless, when her brother-in-law asked the hand of her daughter for
his son, she willingly gave her consent.

Nefert and Paaker had grown up together, and by this union she foresaw
that she could secure her own future and that of her children.

Shortly after the death of the Mohar, the charioteer Mena had proposed