“La! la!” said the voice. “Why, what a city is this for an old woman to seek her fortune in! And how shall I find those to whom I am known? As well look for the rush in the papyrus-roll.[*] Begone! thou knave! and let my basket of simples lie; or, by the Gods, I’ll doctor thee with them!”
[*] Papyrus was manufactured from the pith of rushes. Hence
Atoua’s saying.—Editor.
I turned, wondering, and found myself face to face with my foster-nurse, Atoua. She knew me instantly, for I saw her start, but in the presence of the people she checked her surprise.
“Good Sir,” she whined, lifting her withered countenance towards me, and at the same time making the secret sign. “By thy dress thou shouldst be an astronomer, and I was specially told to avoid astronomers as a pack of lying tricksters who worship their own star only; and, therefore, I speak to thee, acting on the principle of contraries, which is law to us women. For surely in this Alexandria, where all things are upside down, the astronomers may be the honest men, since the rest are clearly knaves.” And then, being by now out of earshot of the press, “royal Harmachis, I am come charged with a message to thee from thy father Amenemhat.”
“Is he well?” I asked.
“Yes, he is well, though waiting for the moment tries him sorely.”
“And his message?”
“It is this. He sends greeting to thee and with it warning that a great danger threatens thee, though he cannot read it. These are his words: ‘Be steadfast and prosper.’”
I bowed my head and the words struck a new chill of fear into my soul.
“When is the time?” she asked.