“And let us hasten to seize with gratitude that which the Gods set before us,” cried Setchem with joyful emotion. “I will go to-morrow to my sister and tell her that we shall live together in our old affection, and share both good and evil; we are both of the same race, and I know that, as order and cleanliness preserve a house from ruin and rejoice the stranger, so nothing but unity can keep up the happiness of the family and its appearance before people. What is bygone is bygone, and let it be forgotten. There are many women in Thebes besides Nefert, and a hundred nobles in the land would esteem themselves happy to win you for a son-in-law.” Paaker rose, and began thoughtfully pacing the broad space, while Setchem went on speaking. “I know,” she said, “that I have touched a wound in thy heart; but it is already closing, and it will heal when you are happier even than the charioteer Mena, and need no longer hate him. Nefert is good, but she is delicate and not clever, and scarcely equal to the management of so large a household as ours. Ere long I too shall be wrapped in mummy-cloths, and then if duty calls you into Syria some prudent housewife must take my place. It is no small matter. Your grandfather Assa often would say that a house well-conducted in every detail was a mark of a family owning an unspotted name, and living with wise liberality and secure solidity, in which each had his assigned place, his allotted duty to fulfil, and his fixed rights to demand. How often have I prayed to the Hathors that they may send you a wife after my own heart.” “A Setchem I shall never find!” said Paaker kissing his mother’s forehead, “women of your sort are dying out.” “Flatterer!” laughed Setchem, shaking her finger at her son. But it is true. Those who are now growing up dress and smarten themselves with stuffs from Kaft,--[Phoenicia]--mix their language with Syrian words, and leave the steward and housekeeper free when they themselves ought to command. Even my sister Katuti, and Nefert-- “Nefert is different from other women,” interrupted Paaker, “and if you had brought her up she would know how to manage a house as well as how to ornament it.” Setchem looked at her son in surprise; then she said, half to herself: “Yes, yes, she is a sweet child; it is impossible for any one to be angry with her who looks into her eyes. And yet I was cruel to her because you were hurt by her, and because--but you know. But now you have forgiven, I forgive her, willingly, her and her husband.” Paaker’s brow clouded, and while he paused in front of his mother he said with all the peculiar harshness of his voice: “He shall pine away in the desert, and the hyaenas of the North shall tear his unburied corpse.” At these words Setchem covered her face with her veil, and clasped her hands tightly over the amulets hanging round her neck. Then she said softly: