In a corner of the court sat Anana, Pentaur's favorite scholar, hiding
his face in his hands which rested on his knees. Rameri went up to him,
touched his shoulders and said:

"We have played the game, and now must bear the consequences for good and
for evil. Are you not ashamed of yourself, old boy? Your eyes are wet,
and the drops here on your hands have not fallen from the clouds. You
who are seventeen, and in a few months will be a scribe and a grown man!"

Anana looked at the prince, dried his eyes quickly; and said:

"I was the ring-leader. Ameni will turn me out of the place, and I must
return disgraced to my poor mother, who has no one in the world but me."

"Poor fellow!" said Rameri kindly. "It was striking at random! If only
our attempt had done Pentaur any good!"

"We have done him harm, on the contrary," said Anana vehemently, "and
have behaved like fools!" Rameri nodded in full assent, looked
thoughtful for a moment, and then said:

"Do you know, Anana, that you were not the ringleader? The trick was
planned in this crazy brain; I take the whole blame on my own shoulders.
I am the son of Rameses, and Ameni will be less hard on me than on you."

"He will examine us all," replied Anana, "and I will be punished sooner
than tell a lie."

Rameri colored.