wise. Say, are you wise, Pambasa?"

"Yes, your Highness. I am wise like your Highness's uncle, Khaemuas the
mighty magician, whose sandals I used to clean when I was young."

"Is it so? Then why are you so careful to hide your wisdom which should
be open like a flower for us poor bees to suck at? Well, I am glad to
learn that you are wise, for in this book of magic that I have been
reading I find problems worthy of Khaemuas the departed, whom I only
remember as a brooding, black-browed man much like my cousin, Amenmeses
his son--save that no one can call Amenmeses wise."

"Why is your Highness glad?"

"Because you, being by your own account his equal, can now interpret the
matter as Khaemuas would have done. You know, Pambasa, that had he lived
he would have been Pharaoh in place of my father. He died too soon,
however, which proves to me that there was something in this tale of
his wisdom, since no really wise man would ever wish to be Pharaoh of
Egypt."

Pambasa stared with his mouth open.

"Not wish to be Pharaoh!" he began--

"Now, Pambasa the Wise," went on the Prince as though he had not heard
him. "Listen. This old book gives a charm 'to empty the heart of its
weariness,' that it says is the oldest and most common sickness in the
world from which only kittens, some children, and mad people are free.
It appears that the cure for this sickness, so says the book, is to
stand on the top of the pyramid of Khufu at midnight at that moment when
the moon is largest in the whole year, and drink from the cup of dreams,
reciting meanwhile a spell written here at length in language which I
cannot read."

"There is no virtue in spells, Prince, if anyone can read them."

"And no use, it would seem, if they can be read by none."

"Moreover, how can any one climb the pyramid of Khufu, which is covered
with polished marble, even in the day let alone at midnight, your
Highness, and there drink of the cup of dreams?"

"I do not know, Pambasa. All I know is that I weary of this foolishness,
and of the world. Tell me of something that will lighten my heart, for
it is heavy."

"There are jugglers without, Prince, one of whom says he can throw a
rope into the air and climb up it until he vanishes into heaven."

"When he has done it in your sight, Pambasa, bring him to me, but
not before. Death is the only rope by which we climb to heaven--or be
lowered into hell. For remember there is a god called Set, after whom,
lik