It was a bachelors' feast, for none of the women would condescend to attend such revels; only slaves, single men, and married ones, who had stolen from their homes, were present, besides our heroes and their followers. About a dozen of the temple male servants were in attendance to begin the feast with religious ceremonies, and to drag round the mummy-case before the drinking began. The viands were multitudinous and exquisitely cooked, and while they ate, professional musicians played on various instruments. It was nearly the last night of liberty for the king and his subjects, and they had made up their minds to enjoy themselves. Ned and his followers joined in lustily at the eating part of the ceremony, which caused the dull-eyed, yellow-visaged, and purple-nosed royal host almost to forgive them for their excessive strength and stature. But they completely lost his favour when the serious part came on--the drinking. Ned sat for a short time, but rose gravely at the close of one of Sotu's favourite stories, and sternly ordered his followers to follow him. King Sotu was too mean-spirited to resent their going, but after they had departed, and he had swallowed many cupfuls of fragrant wine, he shouted loudly-- "These cannot be men, for they can neither drink nor enjoy a good joke. We must get rid of them, or we shall not have the life of slaves when our wives return." Poor King Sotu! he felt at this moment brave enough to poison Ned and his followers. But when morning dawned and he tremblingly seized the goblet of wine which his slaves brought him, he quaked in his sandals as he remembered what he had uttered in his festive mood. A hundred traitor ears had heard the rash words, and he felt sure they would be repeated to their wives. "Oh, Osiris!" he moaned. "If Isori hears of this, I am undone." After several goblets, he called for his pipe and his whip, and spent the forenoon exercising himself on the backs of his slaves. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. THE QUEEN ISORI. Queen Isori had come, and, with her army, was in possession of her royal capital of Karnadama. She had taken away fifty-six thousand foot and mounted soldiers. She brought home forty-eight thousand six hundred and twenty able-bodied amazons. Seven thousand three hundred and eighty dauntless females had found the death they coveted, and over a thousand disconsolate widowers bewailed their fate loudly in the temple courtyards. It was the custom for those bereaved widowers to mourn in public for their departed spouses, while they prayed that their sins might be overbalanced by their good deeds, in the scales of the gods. The men of Karnadama were unquestioning slaves to custom, therefore they covered their smooth heads with ashes, wailed, howled, and prayed during the hours appointed for mourning. Afterwards they met together in those vaults and shades where the wine was kept cool in great clay-baked jars, and drowned their sorrows as deeply as possible.