"They were wise, who represented Horus--the symbol of the triumph of good
over evil and of purity over the impure--in the form of a child. Bless
you, my little friend; be good, and always give away what you have to
make others happy. It will not make your house rich--but it will your
heart!"

Scherau clung to the priest, and involuntarily raised his little hand
to stroke Pentaur's cheek. An unknown tenderness had filled his little
heart, and he felt as if he must throw his arms round the poet's neck and
cry upon his breast.

But Pentaur set him down on the ground, and he trotted down into the
valley. There he paused. The sun was high in the heavens, and he must
return to the witch's cave and his board, but he would so much like to go
a little farther--only as far as to the king's tomb, which was quite
near.

Close by the door of this tomb was a thatch of palm-branches, and under
this the sculptor Batau, a very aged man, was accustomed to rest. The
old man was deaf, but he passed for the best artist of his time, and with
justice; he had designed the beautiful pictures and hieroglyphic
inscriptions in Seti's splendid buildings at Abydos and Thebes, as well
as in the tomb of that prince, and he was now working at the decoration
of the walls in the grave of Rameses.

Scherau had often crept close up to him, and thoughtfully watched him at
work, and then tried himself to make animal and human figures out of a
bit of clay.

One day the old man had observed him.