So Pambasa went, casting a piteous look at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Tell me,” said Seti when he was gone, “you who must be wise in your fashion, why does a Court always breed thieves?”
“I suppose for the same reason, O Prince, that a dog’s back breeds fleas. Fleas must live, and there is the dog.”
“True,” he answered, “and these palace fleas are not paid enough. If ever I have power I will see to it. They shall be fewer but better fed. Now, Ana, be seated. I know you though you do not know me, and already I have learned to love you through your writings. Tell me of yourself.”
So I told him all my simple tale, to which he listened without a word, and then asked me why I had come to see him. I replied that it was because he had sent for me, which he had forgotten; also because I brought him a story that I had dared to dedicate to him. Then I laid the roll before him on the table.
“I am honoured,” he said in a pleased voice, “I am greatly honoured. If I like it well, your story shall go to the tomb with me for my Ka to read and re-read until the day of resurrection, though first I will study it in the flesh. Do you know this city of Tanis, Ana?”
I answered that I knew little of it, who had spent my time here haunting the doors of his Highness.
“Then with your leave I will be your guide through it this night, and afterwards we will sup and talk.”
I bowed and he clapped his hands, whereon a servant appeared, not Pambasa, but another.
“Bring two cloaks,” said the Prince, “I go abroad with the scribe, Ana. Let a guard of four Nubians, no more, follow us, but at a distance and disguised. Let them wait at the private entrance.”