"It would be well to die thus," he murmured, "it would be very well, and then, perhaps, the gods I have betrayed would forgive me, the old, old gods to whom thirty dynasties of recorded kings have bowed the knee, and those who went before them for unnumbered generations. Yes, then perhaps that great company of Pharaohs would not turn their backs on me or spit at me when I join them at the table of Osiris. But, Prophetess"—here his face fell in again and his crab–like eyes projected and rolled, while his voice sank to a whisper, "Prophetess, /I dare not/."
"Why, Nectanebes?"
"Because—oh! because years ago I struck a bargain with a certain Power of the Under–world, a daemon if you will, at least some spirit of evil that comes I know not whence and dwells I know not where, which became mani
