him his seat, begged him to keep up the flow of cheerful conversation, to
encourage the guests to drink, and to interrupt all talk of the king, the
state, or the war.

"You know," he concluded, "that we are not by ourselves this evening.
Wine has, before this, betrayed everything! Remember this--the mother of
foresight looks backwards!"

Ani clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder. "There will be a space
cleared to-night in your winelofts. It is said of you that you cannot
bear to see either a full glass or an empty one; to-night give your
aversion to both free play. And when you think it is the right moment,
give a sign to my steward, who is sitting there in the corner. He has a
few jars of the best liquor from Byblos, that he brought over with him,
and he will bring it to you. I will come in again and bid you good-
night." Ameni was accustomed to leave the hall at the beginning of the
drinking.

When the door was closed behind him and his companion, when fresh rose-
garlands had been brought for the necks of the company, when lotus
blossoms decorated their heads, and the beakers were refilled, a choir of
musicians came in, who played on harps, lutes, flutes, and small drums.
The conductor beat the time by clapping his hands, and when the music had
raised the spirits of the drinkers, they seconded his efforts by
rhythmical clippings. The jolly old Gagabu kept up his character
as a stout drinker, and leader of the feast.

The most priestly countenances soon beamed with cheerfulness, and the
officers and courtiers outdid each other in audacious jokes. Then the
old man signed to a young temple-servant, who wore a costly wreath; he