"If I did not fear that blasphemy might stain my lips, I should say that some priests waste their time. They are wretched, though holy! They eat no meat, they are satisfied with one wife, or avoid women altogether, and they know not what it is to borrow. I am satisfied, Ramses," continued the exquisite, "that Thou wilt know this kind of wisdom through my counsels. Today Thou wilt learn what a source of sensations lack of money is. A man in need of money has no appetite, he springs up in sleep, he looks at women with astonishment, as if to ask, 'Why were they created?' Fire flashes in his face in the coolest temple. In the middle of a desert shivers of cold pass through him during the greatest heat. He looks like a madman; he does not hear what people say to him. Very often he walks along with his wig awry and forgets to sprinkle it with perfume. His only comfort is a pitcher of strong wine, and that for a brief moment. Barely has the poor man's thoughts come back when again he feels as though the earth were opening under him.
"I see," continued the exquisite, "that at present Thou art passing through despair from lack of money. But soon Thou wilt know other feelings which will be as if a great sphinx were removed from thy bosom. Then Thou wilt yield to the sweet condition of forgetting thy previous trouble and present creditors, and then Ah, happy Ramses, unusual surprises will await thee! For the term will pass, and thy creditors will begin to visit thee under pretence of paying homage. Thou wilt be like a deer hunted by dogs, or an Egyptian girl who, while raising water from the river, sees the knotty back of a crocodile."
"All this seems very gladsome," interrupted Ramses, smiling; "but it brings not one drachma."
"Never mind," continued Tutmosis. "I will go this moment to Dagon, the Phoenician banker, and in the evening Thou wilt find peace, though he may not have given thee money."
He hastened out, took his seat in a small litter, and surrounded by servants vanished in the alleys of the park.
Before sunset Dagon, a Phoenician, the most noted banker in Memphis, came to the house of Ramses. He was a man in the full bloom of life, yellow, lean, but well built. He wore a blue tunic and over it a white robe of thin texture. He had immense hair of his own, confined by a gold circlet, and a great black beard, his own also. This rich growth looked imposing in comparison with the wigs and false beards of Egyptian exquisites.
The dwelling of the heir to the throne was swarming with youth of the aristocracy. Some on the ground floor were bathing and anointing themselves, others were playing chess and checkers on the first story, others in company with dancing girls were drinking under tents on the terrace. Ramses neither drank, played, nor talked with women; he walked along one side of the terrace awaiting the Phoenician impatiently. When he saw him emerge from an alley in a litter on two asses, he went to the first story, where there was an unoccupied chamber.
After awhile Dagon appeared in the door. He knelt on the threshold and exclaimed,
"I greet thee, new sun of Egypt! Mayst Thou live through eternity, and may thy glory reach those distant shores which are visited by the ships of Phoenicia."
At command of the prince, he rose and said with violent gesticulations,