He supported himself on a staff of cedar-wood, gripping it with both hands that for thinness were like to those of a mummy.

For a while he considered us both as though he were reading our souls, then said in a full and jovial voice: "Greeting, Prince." Seti turned, looked at him, and answered: "Greeting, Bakenkhonsu.

How comes it that you are still alive?
When we parted at Thebes I made sure----" "That on your return you would find me in my tomb.

Not so, Prince, it is I who shall live to look upon you in your tomb, yes, and on others who are yet to sit in the seat of Pharaoh.

Why not?
Ho! ho! Why not, seeing that I am but a hundred and seven, I who remember the first Rameses and have played with his grandson, your grandsire, as a boy?
Why should I not live, Prince, to nurse your grandson--if the gods should grant you one who as yet have neither wife nor child ?" "Because you will get tired of life, Bakenkhonsu, as I am already, and the gods will not be able to spare you much longer." "The gods can endure yet a while without me, Prince, when so many are flocking to their table.