That night, ere dawn, a cry rang through the palace, waking me from my sleep. This was the cry:
“The good god Pharaoh is no more! The hawk Seti has flown to heaven!”
At the burial of Pharaoh, I laid the halves of the broken cup upon his breast, that he might drink therefrom in the Day of Resurrection.
Here ends the writing of the Scribe Ana, the Counsellor and Companion of the King, by him beloved.
THE END