“In the quarries below.”

There was no more doubt in the mind of Hotep.  Here was a duty, plain before him, and his dearest friend to counsel.  His must be tender wisdom and persuasive authority.  Not a drop of the scribe’s blood was democratic.  He could not understand love between different ranks of society, and, as a result, doubted if it could exist.  Kenkenes must be awakened while it was time.

“Do thou hear me, O my Kenkenes,” he said after some silence.  “If I overstep the liberty of a friend, remind me, but remember thou—­whatsoever I shall say will be said through love for thee, not to chide thee.  No man shapeth his career for himself alone, nor does death end his deeds.  He continues to act through his children and his children’s children to the unlimited extent of time.  Seest thou not, O Kenkenes, that the ancestor is terribly responsible?  What more heavy punishment could be meted to the original sinner, than to set him in eternal contemplation of the hideous fruitfulness of his initial sin!

“I have said sin, because sin, only, is offense in the eyes of the gods.  But sin and error are one in the unpardoning eye of nature.  Thus, if thou dost err, though in all innocence, though the gods absolve thee, thou wilt reap the bitter harvest of thy misguided sowing, one day—­thou or thy children after thee.  The doom is spoken, and however tardy, must fall—­and the offense is never expiated.  There is nothing more relentless than consequence.

“If thou weddest unwisely thou dost double thy children’s portion of difficulty, since thou art unwise and their mother unfit.  If, perchance, thy only error lay in thy choice of wife, the result is still the same.  Let her be most worthy, and yet she may be most unfitting.  She must fit thy needs as the joint fits the socket.  Virtue is essential, but it is not sufficient.  Beauty is good—­I should say needful, but certainly it is not all.  Love is indispensable and yet not enough.”

“I should say that these three things are enough,” put in Kenkenes.

“They would gain entrance into the place of the blest—­the bosom of Osiris—­but they are not sufficient for the over-nice nobility of Egypt,” the scribe averred promptly.  “Thou must live in the world and the world would pass judgment on thy wife.  If thou art a true husband, thou wouldst defend her, and be wroth.  Yet, canst thou be happy being wroth and at odds with the world?”

Kenkenes slipped from under the affectionate arm and busied himself with the statue, marking with a sliver of limestone where his chisel must smooth away a flaw.  But the voice of the scribe went on steadily.

“The nobility of Egypt will not accept an unbeliever and an Israelite.  That monarch who favored the son of Abraham, Joseph, is dead.  The tolerant spirit died with him.  Another sentiment hath grown up and the loveliest Hebrew could not overthrow it.  Henceforward, there is eternal enmity between Egypt and Israel.”