"If my wine could speak, it would thank you for such a speech." "Hail to the Regent Ani!" shouted the guests, and they all rose with their cups filled with his noble present.
He pledged them and then rose.
"Those," said he, "who have appreciated this wine, I now invite to dine with me to-morrow.

You will then meet with it again, and if you still find it to your liking, you will be heartily welcome any evening.

Now, good night, friends." A thunder of applause followed him, as he quitted the room.
The morning was already grey, when the carousing-party broke up; few of the guests could find their way unassisted through the courtyard; most of them had already been carried away by the slaves, who had waited for them--and who took them on their heads, like bales of goods--and had been borne home in their litters; but for those who remained to the end, couches were prepared in the House of Seti, for a terrific storm was now raging.
While the company were filling and refilling the beakers, which raised their spirits to so wild a pitch, the prisoner Pentaur had been examined in the presence of the Regent.

Ameni's messenger had found the poet on his knees, so absorbed in meditation that he did not perceive his approach.

All his peace of mind had deserted him, his soul was in a tumult, and he could not succeed in obtaining any calm and clear control over the new life-pulses which were throbbing in his heart.
He had hitherto never gone to rest at night without requiring of himself an account of the past day, and he had always been able to detect the most subtle line that divided right from wrong in his actions.