r unpleasantly.

"I wish this were the Nile," he said, evasively. "The kings and
queens, having slept so long, might come down from their tombs,
and ride with us."

"They were of the colossi, and would sink our boat. The pygmies
would be preferable. But tell me of the Roman. He is very wicked,
is he not?"

"I cannot say."

"Is he of noble family, and rich?"

"I cannot speak of his riches."

"How beautiful his horses were! and the bed of his chariot was gold,
and the wheels ivory. And his audacity! The bystanders laughed as he
rode away; they, who were so nearly under his wheels!"

She laughed at the recollection.

"They were rabble," said Ben-Hur, bitterly.

"He must be one of the monsters who are said to be growing up in
Rome--Apollos ravenous as Cerberus. Does he reside in Antioch?"

"He is of the East somewhere."

"Egypt would suit him better than Syria."

"Hardly," Ben-Hur replied. "Cleopatra is dead."

That instant the lamps burning before the door of the tent came
into view.

"The dowar!" she cried.

"Ah, then, we have not been to Egypt. I have not seen Karnak or
Philae or Abydos. This is not the Nile. I have but heard a song
of India, and been boating in a dream."

"Philae--Karnak. Mourn rather that you have not seen the Rameses
at Aboo Simbel, looking at which makes it so easy to think of
God, the maker of the heavens and earth. Or why should you mourn
at all? Let us go on to the river; and if I cannot sing"--she
laughed--"because I have said I would not, yet I can tell you
stories of Egypt."

"Go on! Ay, till morning comes, and the evening, and the next
morning!" he said, vehemently.

"Of what shall my stories be? Of the mathematicians?"

"Oh no."

"Of the philosophers?"

"No, no."

"Of the magicians and genii?"

"If you will."

"Of war?"

"Yes."

"Of love?"

"Yes."

"I will tell you a cure for love. It is the story of a queen.
Listen reverently. The papyrus from which it was taken by the
priests of Philae was wrested from the hand of the heroine herself.
It is correct in form, and must be true:

NE-NE-HOFRA.

I.

"There is no parallelism in human lives.

"No life runs a straight line.

"The most perfect life develops as a circle, and terminates in its
beginning, making it impossible to say, This is the commencement,
that the end.

"Perfect lives are the treasures of God; of great days he wears
them on the ring-finger of his heart hand."

II.

"Ne-ne-ho