If the earth had given way under his feet or the sky had fallen upon him, Ramose would have been less horror-stricken.
He quickly bent down to the king, lifted him up, put him in a chair and himself fell at his feet:
"My king, my god, Sun's Joy, Sun's only Son, all shall be as you wish!"
But the king was no longer listening; he had turned away and was staring before him with fixed, wide-open eyes.
"What is it, sire?" Ramose said gently touching his hand.
The king started, slowly turned to him and looking straight into his eyes said with a quiet smile:
"Do you know, Ramose, when they were beating me with sticks in the Busiris court it was less shameful than this."
He rose and taking the knife walked towards the door. Ramose rushed after him.
The king turned round and shouted: "Let me go! Let me go!"
Freeing his hand he threatened Ramose with the knife, but at the same moment, with a terrible scream, fell on the floor at his feet, struggling in a fit of epilepsy.