"Thou art a strange man, though so wise!" said the adjutant, shrugging his shoulders. "Dost Thou not see that each man of us occupies some position, low, less low, or very low, in which he must labor? But dost Thou suffer because Thou art not pharaoh, and thy tomb will not be a pyramid? Thou dost not ponder at all over this, for Thou knowest it to be the world's condition. Each creature does its own duty: the ox ploughs, the ass bears the traveler, I cool his worthiness, Thou rememberest and thinkest for him, while the earth-worker tills land and pays tribute. What is it to us that some bull is born Apis, to whom all render homage, and some man a pharaoh or a nomarch?"
"The ten years' toil of that man was destroyed," whispered Pentuer.
"And does not the minister destroy thy toil?" asked the adjutant. "Who knows that Thou art the manager of the state, not the worthy Herhor?"
"Thou art mistaken. He manages really. He has power and will; I have only knowledge. Moreover, they do not beat thee, nor me, like that slave."
"But they have beaten Eunana, and they may beat us also. Hence there is need to be brave and make use of the position assigned us; all the more since, as is known to thee, our spirit, the immortal Ka, in proportion as it is purified rises to a higher plane, so that after thousands or millions of years, in company with spirits of pharaohs and slaves, in company with gods even, it will be merged into the nameless and all- mighty father of existence."
"Thou speakest like a priest," answered Pentuer, with bitterness. "I ought rather to have this calm! But instead of it I have pain in my soul, for I feel the wretchedness of millions."
"Who tells it to thee?"
"My eyes and my heart. My heart is like a valley between mountains which never can be silent, when it hears a cry, but must answer with an echo."
"I say to thee, Pentuer, that Thou thinkest too much over dangerous subjects. It is impossible to walk safely along precipices of the eastern mountains, for Thou mayst fall at any moment; or to wander through the western desert, where hungry lions are prowling, and where the raging simoom springs up unexpectedly."
Meanwhile the valiant Eunana moved on in the vehicle, which only added to his pain. But to show that he was valiant he requested food and drink; and when he had eaten a dry cake rubbed with garlic and had drunk some beer from a thick-bellied pot, he begged the driver to take a branch and drive the flies from his wounded body.