But he came too late, the spirit of the poor lady was quite clouded, and she listened to him without any interest while he strove to restore her to courage and to recall her wandering mind.

She only interrupted him over and over again with the questions: "Did he do it ?" or "Is he alive ?" At last Ameni succeeded in persuading her to accompany him in her litter to his tent, where she would find her son.

Pentaur was wonderfully like her lost husband, and the priest, experienced in humanity, thought that the sight of him would rouse the dormant powers of her mind.

When she had arrived at his tent, he told her with kind precaution the whole history of the exchange of Paaker for Pentaur, and she followed the story with attention but with indifference, as if she were hearing of the adventures of others who did not concern her.

When Ameni enlarged on the genius of the poet and on his perfect resemblance to his dead father she muttered: "I know--I know.