“Yes. I mean, not now, lest I should forget my manners listening to you. Look,” and he pointed to a dark-browed, fierce-eyed man of middle age who passed up the hall as though he did not see us, “there goes my cousin, Amenmeses. You know him, do you not?”
I shook my head.
“Then tell me what you think of him, at once before the first judgment fades.”
“I think he is a royal-looking lord, obstinate in mind and strong in body, handsome too in his way.”
“All can see that, Ana. What else?”
“I think,” I said in a low voice so that none might overhear, “that his heart is as black as his brow; that he has grown wicked with jealousy and hate and will do you evil.”
“Can a man grow wicked, Ana? Is he not as he was born till the end? I do not know, nor do you. Still you are right, he is jealous and will do me evil if it brings him good. But tell me, which of us will triumph at the last?”
While I hesitated what to answer I became aware that someone had joined us. Looking round I perceived a very ancient man clad in a white robe. He was broad-faced and bald-headed, and his eyes burned beneath his shaggy eyebrows like two coals in ashes. He supported himself on a staff of cedar-wood, gripping it with both hands that for thinness were like to those of a mummy. For a while he considered us both as though he were reading our souls, then said in a full and jovial voice:
“Greeting, Prince.”
Seti turned, looked at him, and answered: