idols, fat, soulless, ugly, between the rounded pillars. He searched
the palace untiringly for the hall in which the writings were kept, and
at last he came upon it. But it was closed: its custodians were
hunting jackals and tigers in the desert. They found it dark and
dreary there among the great minds of old; the splendour and luxury of
the court did not penetrate to the hall of writings.

Then nights came again when whispers ran through the halls, "Pharaoh
weeps." And the reason, too, was whispered. He had caused the woman
he loved best to be strangled, and now the astrologers declared that
she was innocent. One day the king lay on his couch and desired that
the boy from the Nile should be summoned to fan him. As the king was
sick, Jesus agreed to go. Pharaoh was ill-humoured and impatient,
neither fan nor fanning was right, and when the boy left off that was
not right either.

Then Jesus said suddenly: "Pharaoh, you are sick."

The king stared at him in astonishment. A page dare to open his mouth
and speak to the Son of Light! When, however, he saw the sad, sincere
expression of sympathy in the boy's countenance ho became calmer, and
said; "Yes, my boy, I am sick."

"King," said Jesus, "I know what is the matter with you."

"You know!"

"You keep shadows within and light without. Reverse it."

Directly the boy had said that Pharaoh got up, thinner and taller than