“If your office had not already been taken from you, the insolence with which you have dismissed me might have cost you your place.  We shall meet again, and then you shall learn that inherited wealth in the right hand is worth more than you will like.”

“Another enemy!” thought the poet, when he found himself alone and stood erect in the glad consciousness of having done right.

During Paaker’s interview with the poet, the dwarf Nemu had chatted to the porter, and had learned from him all that had previously occurred.

Paaker mounted his chariot pale with rage, and whipped on his horses before the dwarf had clambered up the step; but the slave seized the little man, and set him carefully on his feet behind his master.

“The villian, the scoundrel! he shall repent it—­Pentaur is he called! the hound!” muttered the pioneer to himself.

The dwarf lost none of his words, and when he caught the name of Pentaur he called to the pioneer, and said—­

“They have appointed a scoundrel to be the superior of this temple; his name is Pentaur.  He was expelled from the temple of Seti for his immorality, and now he has stirred up the younger scholars to rebellion, and invited unclean women into the temple.  My lips hardly dare repeat it, but the gate-keeper swore it was true—­that the chief haruspex from the House of Seti found him in conference with Bent-Anat, the king’s daughter, and at once deprived him of his office.”

“With Bent-Anat?” replied the pioneer, and muttered, before the dwarf could find time to answer, “Indeed, with Bent-Anat!” and he recalled the day before yesterday, when the princess had remained so long with the priest in the hovel of the paraschites, while he had talked to Nefert and visited the old witch.

“I should not care to be in the priest’s skin,” observed Nemu, “for though Rameses is far away, the Regent Ani is near enough.  He is a gentleman who seldom pounces, but even the dove won’t allow itself to be attacked in is own nest.”

Paaker looked enquiringly at Nemu.

“I know,” said the dwarf “Ani has asked Rameses’ consent to marry his daughter.”

“He has already asked it,” continued the dwarf as Paaker smiled incredulously, “and the king is not disinclined to give it.  He likes making marriages—­as thou must know pretty well.”

“I?” said Paaker, surprised.

“He forced Katuti to give her daughter as wife to the charioteer.  That I know from herself.  She can prove it to thee.”

Paaker shook his head in denial, but the dwarf continued eagerly, “Yes, yes!  Katuti would have had thee for her son-in-law, and it was the king, not she, who broke off the betrothal.  Thou must at the same time have been inscribed in the black books of the high gate, for Rameses used many hard names for thee.  One of us is like a mouse behind the curtain, which knows a good deal.”