On those which had to do with learning, or even religion, I had the better of Ki, who was no great scholar or master of theology.
But always before we parted he would plant some arrow in my ribs, at which old Bakenkhonsu laughed, and laughed again, yet ever threw over me the shield of his venerable wisdom, just because he loved me I think.
It was after this that the plague struck the cattle of Egypt, so that tens of thousands of them died, though not all as was reported.

But, as I have said, of the herds of Seti none died, nor, as we were told, did any of those of the Israelites in the land of Goshen.

Now there was great distress in Egypt, but Ki smiled and said that he knew it would be so, and that there was much worse to come, for which I could have smitten him over the head with his own staff, had I not feared that, if I did so, it might once more turn to a serpent in my hand.
Old Bakenkhonsu looked upon the matter with another face.

He said that since his last wife died, I think some fifty years before, he had found life very dull because he missed the exercises of her temper, and her habit of presenting things as these never had been nor could possibly ever be.

Now, however, it grew interesting again, since the marvels which were happening in Egypt, being quite contrary to Nature, reminded him of his last wife and her arguments.