"My heart reacheth not so far," spoke Horus. "But write forthwith an edict, whereby the people's lease-rents and taxes shall be lowered by a half, and the slaves shall have three days in the week free from labour and they shall not be scourged upon the back with a rod, unless the judge issue a decree to that effect. Write yet one more edict, recalling from banishment my preceptor Jetron, who is the wisest and noblest of the Egyptians. Thus have I spoken."
The chamberlain fell upon his face, but ere he had time to withdraw for the engrossing of the edicts, the high priest entered.
"O Horus," he said, "at any moment the mighty Rameses will depart unto the realm of shadows, and Osiris will weigh his heart upon the infallible balance. When, however, the holy ring of the Pharaohs gleams upon thy finger, utter thy commands, and I will obey thee, even though thou shouldst have the miraculous shrine of Ammon destroyed, for through the lips of rulers speaketh immortal Osiris.'
"I will not lay waste," responded Horus, but a new shrine will I upraise and the priestly treasury will I enlarge. I crave only, that thou writest an edict concerning the solemn transference of the mortal remains of my mother Zefora unto the catacombs, and a second edict. . . concerning the liberation of Berenice the beloved from her cloistered captivity. Thus have I spoken."
