loudly resenting his defense of the Hebrews. The porter, supported by
several of his brethren, was already menacing the young sculptor when
some one shouted that the procession was in sight.

From his position Kenkenes commanded a long view of the street that
declined sharply toward the river. As yet there was nothing to be seen
of the pageant, but the dense crowds far down the highway swayed
backward from the narrow path between them. Presently, scantily-clad
runners were distinguished coming in a slow trot between the
multitudes. The lane widened before the swing of their maces and there
were cries of alarm as the spectators in the middle were pressed
between the retreating forward ranks and the immovable rear. Running
water-bearers pursued the couriers with gurglets, sprinkling the way.
Directly after these, slim bare-limbed youths came in a rapid pace
strewing the path with flowers and palm-leaves. By this time the
intermittent sound of music had grown insistent and continuous. Solemn
bodies of priests approached, series after series of the shaven,
white-robed ministers of Amen. The murmur had grown to an uproar. The
wild clamor of trumpet, pipe, cymbal and sistrum, with the long drone
of the arghool as undertone, drifted by. The upper orders of priests
followed in the vibrating wake of the musicians. Then came Loi,
high-priest to the patron god of Thebes, walking alone, his ancient
figure most pitifully mocked by the richness of his priestly robes.

After him the great god, Amen, in his ark.

The air was rent with acclaim. The crowd was too dense for any one to
prostrate himself, but every Egyptian, potentate or slave, assumed as
nearly as possible the posture of humility. Kenkenes bent reverently,
but he lifted his eyes and looked long at the passing ark. Six priests