him and said humbly: "If I were younger I myself would endeavor, as was
the custom with our fathers, to celebrate this glorious deed of a God and
of his sublime son in a song worthy of this festival; but melting tones
are no longer mine, they vanish with years, and the car of the listener
lends itself only to the young. Nothing is wanting to thy feast, most
lordly Ani, but a poet, who might sing the glorious deeds of our monarch
to the sound of his lute, and yet--we have at hand the gifted Pentaur,
the noblest disciple of the House of Seti."

Bent-Anat turned perfectly white, and the priests who were present
expressed the utmost joy and astonishment, for they had long thought the
young poet, who was highly esteemed throughout Egypt, to be dead.

The king had often heard of the fame of Pentaur from his sons and
especially from Rameri, and he willingly consented that Ameni should
send for the poet, who had himself borne arms at Kadesh, in order that
he should sing a song of triumph. The Regent gazed blankly and uneasily
into his wine cup, and the high-priest rose to fetch Pentaur himself into
the presence of the king.

During the high-priest's absence, more and more dishes were served to the
company; behind each guest stood a silver bowl with rose water, in which
from time to time he could dip his fingers to cool and clean them; the
slaves in waiting were constantly at hand with embroidered napkins to
wipe them, and others frequently changed the faded wreaths, round the
heads and shoulders of the feasters, for fresh ones.

"How pale you are, my child!" said Rameses turning to Bent-Anat.
"If you are tired, your uncle will no doubt allow you to leave the hall;
though I think you should stay to hear the performance of this much-