"That you must explain," cried a voice from the table of the military officers.
"It makes young men of the old," laughed the octogenarian, "and children of the young."
"He has you there, you youngsters," cried Gagabu. "What have you to say,
Septah?"
"Wine is a poison," said the morose haruspex, "for it makes fools of wise men."
"Then you have little to fear from it, alas!" said Gagabu laughing.
"Proceed, my lord of the chase."
"The rim of the beaker," was the answer, "is like the lip of the woman you love. Touch it, and taste it, and it is as good as the kiss of a bride."
"General—the turn is yours."
"I wish the Nile ran with such wine instead of with water," cried the soldier, "and that I were as big as the colossus of Atnenophis, and that the biggest obelisk of Hatasu were my drinking vessel, and that I might drink as much as I would! But now—what have you to say of this noble liquor, excellent Gagabu?"
The second prophet raised his beaker, and gazed lovingly at the golden fluid; he tasted it slowly, and then said with his eyes turned to heaven:
"I only fear that I am unworthy to thank the Gods for such a divine blessing."