"And he is--?" asked Katuti.

"Pentaur, the poet," exclaimed the youth. Bent-Anat's face glowed with
scarlet color, while her, brother went on to explain.

"He is noble and of a lofty soul, and all the Gods dwell in him when he
speaks. Formerly we used to go to sleep in the lecture-hall; but his
words carry us away, and if we do not take in the full meaning of his
thoughts, yet we feel that they are genuine and noble."

Bent-Anat breathed quicker at these words, and her eyes hung on the boy's
lips.

"You know him, Bent-Anat," continued Rameri. "He was with you at the
paraschites' house, and in the temple-court when Ameni pronounced you
unclean. He is as tall and handsome as the God Mentli, and I feel that
he is one of those whom we can never forget when once we have seen them.
Yesterday, after you had left the temple, he spoke as he never spoke
before; he poured fire into our souls. Do not laugh, Katuti, I feel it
burning still. This morning we were informed that he had been sent from
the temple, who knows where--and had left us a message of farewell. It
was not thought at all necessary to communicate the reason to us; but we
know more than the masters think. He did not reprove you strongly
enough, Bent-Anat, and therefore he is driven out of the House of Seti.
We have agreed to combine to ask for him to be recalled; Anana is drawing
up a letter to the chief priest, which we shall all subscribe. It would
turn out badly for one alone, but they cannot be at all of us at once.
Very likely they will have the sense to recall him. If not, we shall all
complain to our fathers, and they are not the meanest in the land."