Like a child that has to ask forgiveness of its mother for some misdeed, he went close up to Pentaur, but stood trembling behind him not daring to speak to him.
Several minutes passed.

Suddenly Pentaur raised his head, lifted his hands to heaven, and cried: "O Thou! the One!--though stars may fall from the heavens in summer nights, still Thy eternal and immutable laws guide the never-resting planets in their paths.

Thou pure and all-prevading Spirit, that dwellest in me, as I know by my horror of a lie, manifest Thyself in me--as light when I think, as mercy when I act, and when I speak, as truth--always as truth!" The poet spoke these words with absorbed fervor, and Nebsecht heard them as if they were speech from some distant and beautiful world.

He went affectionately up to his friend, and eagerly held out his hand.

Pentaur grasped it, pressed it warmly, and said: "That was a fearful moment! You do not know what Ameni has been to me, and now, now!" He hardly had ceased speaking when steps were heard approaching the physician's room, and a young priest requested the friends to appear at once in the meeting-room of the Initiated.