g in the arts of war, are yet pleased to come out of the
ruddy heavens to practise peace amongst us!"

And thus did Zaphnath translate the Pharaoh's response to us:--

"Unto Ptah, the Centre of Things, to whom the myriad stars of the
heavens are but ministering slaves, I, Pharaoh of Kem, do give you
welcome. Whatever pleaseth you in the largeness of this rich land, or in
the matchless beauty of our women, shall be unto you as if ye had owned
it always."

Whereupon the other guests turned toward us with the right hand upon the
cheek, and we awkwardly attempted the same salutation. Then a group of
the singing women, twenty-one in number, tripping to the weird music,
came up the steps which led to our floor, carrying covered dishes. At
the top they turned and saluted the Pharaoh, and then took their places,
one upon each of the cushions opposite us. Before uncovering the dishes
they took me a little by surprise, by bending forward and pressing their
warm, pink cheek against the right cheek of the guest they were about to
serve. My maiden unconsciously shivered a little, for my cheek must have
felt cold, even though my surprised blushes did their best to warm it.
Her dish, when opened, contained nothing but flowers, waxy white, but
emitting a delicately sweet perfume. She held them toward my face, and
presently breathed gently across them, as if to waft their perfume to
me. Then scattering them about my cushion, she pressed her left cheek
to mine, arose and tripped down the steps again. There was a modest
self-possession about her which enchanted me, and I hoped she would soon
return bringing something more substantial.

But another group of maidens, differently clothed, had already begun to
mount towards us with earthen goblets and reed-pitchers, which looked as
if they might contain wine. Dropping on her knees on the cushion before
me, this maiden saluted me as the other had done. Then sitting
gracefully before me, she tipped her reed pitcher toward the goblet, and
poured out apparently nothing! But, watching the others, I saw them
carry the goblet to their lips and draw a deep breath from it, while
tipping it as one might a glass of wine. I did the same, and inhaled a
deep draught of stimulating, wine-flavoured gas, which, when I exhaled
it through the nostrils, proved to be deliciously perfumed.

"I have heard of some poets who could dine upon the fragrance of flowers
and sup the sweetness of a woman's kiss, but I a