clothes, and placed them upon the soft grass. The mighty ruler looked about. No one was to be seen. Who indeed would dare to intrude upon this forbidden shore of the sacred Nile!
The mirroring water alone was shameless enough to look at him and reflect him. Morus jumped into the water which kissed flatteringly his heated body. He enjoyed himself greatly. The trees covered with trailing vines built a fragrant sheltering wall and he walked upon shining pebbles which tickled his feet.
When he had bathed long enough and the hour of the love tryst drew near, he came out of the water and hastened to the place where he had left his clothes. But evidently he had mistaken the piece of shrubbery and hastened to the next one. He went back. There was no trace of the royal garments. He walked—his teeth chattering—from bush to bush. He ran up and down the shore, looking behind all the bushes.
“Where are my clothes? Who has stolen them? It could not have been a man. Do you hear, Earth? If you have swallowed them, I will tear up all the trees and grass in my realm.”
He threw himself upon the ground and began to sob. Then he jumped up and began to revile the moon.
“Shine better, you miserable old night-light! If you don’t I’ll smash your temple.”
But the moon did not seem to hear. The moon acted like a timid girl and hid behind a veil of cloud. It began to rain. The dirt and water from the trees disfigured his face. In despair he determined to return to the palace and procure fresh clothes. The
