“Rameses,” continued the pharaoh, “through thy lips is speaking not a dignitary of the state who is thinking of the soundness of canals and the lives of laborers, but an angry person. Anger does not accord with justice any more than a falcon with a dove.”
“Oh, my father,” burst out the heir, “if anger carries me away, it is because I feel the ill-will of the priests and of Herhor.”
“But thou art thyself the grandson of a high priest; the priests taught thee. Thou hast learned more of their secrets than any other prince ever has.”
“I have learned their insatiable pride, and greed of power. And because I will abridge it they are my enemies. Herhor is not willing to give me even a corps, for he wishes to manage the whole army.”
When he had thrown out these incautious words, the heir was frightened. But the ruler raised his clear glance, and answered quietly,—
“I manage the state and the army. From me flow all commands and decisions. In this world I am the balance of Osiris, and I myself weigh the services of my servants, be they the heir, a minister, or the people. Imprudent would he be who should think that all intrigues are not known to me.”
“But, father, if thou hadst seen with thy own eyes the course of the manœuvres—”
“I might have seen a leader,” interrupted the pharaoh, “who in the decisive moment was chasing through the bushes after an Israelite maiden. But I do not wish to observe such stupidity.”
The prince fell at his father’s feet, and whispered,—
“Did Tutmosis speak to thee of that, lord?”
“Tutmosis is a child, just as thou art. He piles up debts as chief of staff in the corps of Memphis, and thinks in his heart that the eyes of the pharaoh cannot reach to his deeds in the desert.”
SOME days later Prince Rameses was summoned before the face of his most worthy mother, Nikotris, who was the second wife of the pharaoh, but now the greatest lady in Egypt. The gods were not mistaken when they called her to be the mother of a pharaoh. She was a tall person, of rather full habit, and in spite of forty years was still beautiful. There was in her eyes, face, and whole form such majesty that even when she went unattended, in the modest garb of a priestess, people bowed their heads to her.
The worthy lady received Rameses in her cabinet, which was paved with porcelain tiles. She sat on an inlaid armchair under a palm-tree. At her feet, on a small stool, lay a little dog; on the other side knelt a black slave woman with a fan. The pharaoh’s wife wore a muslin robe embroidered with gold, and on her wig a circlet in the form of a lotus, ornamented with jewels.
When the prince had bowed low, the little dog sniffed him, then lay down again; while the lady, nodding her head, made inquiry,—
“For what reason, O Rameses, hast thou desired an interview?”
“Two days ago, mother.”
“I knew that thou wert occupied. But to-day we both have time, and I can listen.”
“Thy speech, mother, acts on me as a strong wind of the desert, and I have no longer courage to present my petition.”
“Then surely it is a question of money.”
Rameses dropped his head; he was confused.
“But dost thou need much money?”
“Fifteen talents—”
“O gods!” cried the lady, “but a couple of days ago ten talents were paid thee from the treasury. Go, girl, into thegarden; thou must be tired,” said she to the black slave; and when alone with her son she asked,—
“But is thy Jewess so demanding?”
Rameses blushed, but raised his head.
“Thou knowest, mother, that she is not. But I promised a reward to the army, and—I am unable to pay it.”
The queen looked at him with calm loftiness.
“How evil it is,” said she, after a while, “when a son makes decisions without consulting his mother. Just now I, remembering thy age, wished to give thee a Phœnician slave maiden sent me by Tyre with ten talents for dowry. But thou hast preferred a Jewess.”
“She pleased me. There is not such a beauty among thy serving maidens, mother, nor even among the wives of his holiness.”
“But she is a Jewess!”
“Be not prejudiced, mother, I beg of thee. It is untrue that Jews eat pork and kill cats.”
The worthy lady laughed.
“Thou art speaking like some boy from a primary school,” answered she, shrugging her shoulders, “and hast forgotten the words of Rameses the Great: ‘The yellow people are more numerous than we and they are richer; let us act against them, lest they grow too powerful, but let us act carefully.’ I do not think, therefore, that a girl of that people is the one to be first mistress of the heir to the throne.”
“Can the words of Rameses the Great apply to the daughter of a poor tenant?” asked the prince. “Besides, where are the Jews? Three centuries ago they left Egypt, and to-day they form a little state, ridiculous and priest-governed.”
“I see,” answered the worthy lady, frowning slightly, “that thy mistress is not losing time. Be careful, Rameses; remember, that their leader was Messu (Moses), that traitor priest whom we curse to this day in our temples. Remember that the Jews bore away out of Egypt more treasures than the labor of their few generations was worth to us; they took with them not only gold, but the faith in one god, and our sacred laws, which they give out to-day as their own faith and laws. Last of all, know this,” added she, with great emphasis, “that thedaughters of that people prefer death to the bed of a foreigner. And if they give themselves even to hostile leaders, it is to use them for their policy or to kill them.”
“Believe me, mother, that it is our priests who spread all these reports. They will not admit to the footstool of the throne people of another faith lest those people might serve the pharaoh in opposition to their order.”
The queen rose from the armchair, and crossing her arms on her breast, gazed at her son with amazement.
“What they tell me is true then, thou art an enemy of our priests. Thou, their favorite pupil!”
“I must have the traces of their canes to this day on my shoulders,” said Rameses.
“But thy grandfather and my father, Amenhôtep, was a high priest, and possessed extensive power in this country.”
“Just because my grandfather was a pharaoh, and my father is a pharaoh also, I cannot endure the rule of Herhor.”
“He was brought to his position by thy grandfather, the holy Amenhôtep.”
“And I will cast him down from it.”
The mother shrugged her shoulders.
“And it is thou,” answered she, with sadness, “who wishest to lead a corps? But thou art a spoiled girl, not a man and a leader—”
“How is that?” interrupted the prince, restraining himself with difficulty from an outburst.
“I cannot recognize my own son. I do not see in thee the future lord of Egypt. The dynasty in thy person will be like a Nile boat without a rudder. Thou wilt drive the priests from the court, but who will remain with thee? Who will be thy eye in the Lower and the Upper Country, who in foreign lands? But the pharaoh must see everything, whatever it be, on which fall the divine rays of Osiris.”
“The priests will be my servants, not my ministers.”
“They are the most faithful servants. Thanks to their prayers thy father reigns thirty-three years, and avoids war which might be fatal.”
“To the priests?”
“To the pharaoh and the state!” interrupted the lady. “Knowest thou what takes place in our treasury, from which in one day thou takest ten talents and desirest fifteen more? Knowest thou that were it not for the liberality of the priests, who on behalf of the treasury even take real jewels from the gods and put false ones in their places, the property of the pharaoh would be now in the hands of Phœnicians?”
“One fortunate war would overflow our treasury as the increase of the Nile does our fields.”
“No. Thou, Rameses, art such a child yet that we may not even reckon thy godless words as sinful. Occupy thyself, I beg, with thy Greek regiments, get rid of the Jew girl as quickly as may be, and leave politics to us.”
“Why must I put away Sarah?”
“Shouldst thou have a son from her, complications might rise in the State, which is troubled enough as matters now are. Thou mayst be angry with the priests,” added she, “if thou wilt not offend them in public. They know that it is necessary to overlook much in an heir to the throne, especially when he has such a stormy character. But time pacifies everything to the glory of the dynasty and the profit of Egypt.”
The prince meditated; then he said suddenly,—
“I cannot count, therefore, on money from the treasury.”
“Thou canst not in any case. The grand secretary would have been forced to stop payment to-day had I not given him fourteen talents sent from Tyre to me.”
“And what shall I do with the army?” asked the prince, rubbing his forehead impatiently.
“Put away the Jewess, and beg the priests. Perhaps they will make a loan to thee.”
“Never! I prefer a loan from Phœnicians.”
The lady shook her head.
“Thou art erpatr, act as may please thee. But I say that thou must give great security, and the Phœnicians, when once thy creditors, will not let thee go. They surpass the Jews in treachery.”
“A part of my income will suffice to cover such debts.”
“We shall see. I wish sincerely to help thee, but I have not the means,” said the lady, sadly. “Do, then, as thou artable, but remember that the Phœnicians in our state are like rats in a granary; when one pushes in through a crevice, others follow.”
Rameses loitered in leave-taking.
“Hast thou something more to tell me?” inquired the queen.
“I should like to ask— My heart divines that thou, mother, hast some plans regarding me. What are they?”
She stroked his face.
“Not now—not yet. Thou art free to-day, like every young noble in the country; then make use of thy freedom. But, Rameses, the time is coming when thou wilt have to take a wife whose children will be princes of the blood royal and whose son will be thy heir. I am thinking of that time—”
“And what?”
“Nothing defined yet. In every case political wisdom suggests to me that thy wife should be a priest’s daughter.”
“Perhaps Herhor’s?” said the prince, with a laugh.
“What would there be blamable in that? Herhor will be high priest in Thebes very soon, and his daughter is only fourteen years of age.”
“And would she consent to occupy the place of the Jewess?” asked Rameses, ironically.
“Thou shouldst try to have people forget thy present error.”
“I kiss thy feet, mother, and I go,” said the prince, seizing his own head. “I hear so many marvellous things here that I begin to fear lest the Nile may flow up toward the cataract, or the pyramids pass over to the eastern desert.”
“Blaspheme not, my child,” whispered the lady, gazing with fear at Rameses. “In this land most wonderful miracles are seen.”
“Are not they this, that the walls of the palace listen to their owners?” asked her son, with a bitter smile.
“Men have witnessed the death of pharaohs who had reigned a few months only, and the fall of dynasties which had governed nine nations.”
“Yes, for those pharaohs forgot the sword for the distaff,” retorted Rameses.
He bowed and went out.
In proportion as the sound of Rameses’ steps grew less inthe immense antechamber, the face of the worthy lady changed; the place of majesty was taken by pain and fear, while tears were glistening in her great eyes.
She ran to the statue of the goddess, knelt, and sprinkling incense from India on the coals, began to pray,—
“O Isis, Isis, Isis! three times do I pronounce thy name. O Isis, who givest birth to serpents, crocodiles, and ostriches, may thy name be thrice praised. O Isis, who preservest grains of wheat from robber whirlwinds, and the bodies of our fathers from the destructive toil of time, O Isis, take pity on my son and preserve him! Thrice be thy name repeated—and here—and there—and beyond, to-day and forever, and for the ages of ages, as long as the temples of our gods shall gaze on themselves in the waters of the Nile.”
Thus praying and sobbing, the queen bowed down and touched the pavement with her forehead. Above her at that moment a low whisper was audible,—
“The voice of the just is heard always.”
The worthy lady sprang up, and full of astonishment looked around. But there was no one in the chamber. Only the painted flowers gazed at her from the walls, and from above the altar the statue of the goddess full of superterrestrial calm.
THE prince returned to his villa full of care, and summoned Tutmosis.
“Thou must,” said Rameses, “teach me how to find money.”
“Ha!” laughed the exquisite; “that is a kind of wisdom not taught in the highest school of the priests, but wisdom in which I might be a prophet.”
“In those schools they explain that a man should not borrow money,” said Rameses.
“If I did not fear that blasphemy might stain my lips, I should say that some priests waste their time. They are wretched, though holy! They eat no meat, they are satisfied with one wife, or avoid women altogether, and—they knownot what it is to borrow. I am satisfied, Rameses,” continued the exquisite, “that thou wilt know this kind of wisdom through my counsels. To-day thou wilt learn what a source of sensations lack of money is. A man in need of money has no appetite, he springs up in sleep, he looks at women with astonishment, as if to ask, ‘Why were they created?’ Fire flashes in his face in the coolest temple. In the middle of a desert shivers of cold pass through him during the greatest heat. He looks like a madman; he does not hear what people say to him. Very often he walks along with his wig awry and forgets to sprinkle it with perfume. His only comfort is a pitcher of strong wine, and that for a brief moment. Barely has the poor man’s thoughts come back when again he feels as though the earth were opening under him.
“I see,” continued the exquisite, “that at present thou art passing through despair from lack of money. But soon thou wilt know other feelings which will be as if a great sphinx were removed from thy bosom. Then thou wilt yield to the sweet condition of forgetting thy previous trouble and present creditors, and then— Ah, happy Rameses, unusual surprises will await thee! For the term will pass, and thy creditors will begin to visit thee under pretence of paying homage. Thou wilt be like a deer hunted by dogs, or an Egyptian girl who, while raising water from the river, sees the knotty back of a crocodile—”
“All this seems very gladsome,” interrupted Rameses, smiling; “but it brings not one drachma.”
“Never mind,” continued Tutmosis. “I will go this moment to Dagon, the Phœnician banker, and in the evening thou wilt find peace, though he may not have given thee money.”
He hastened out, took his seat in a small litter, and surrounded by servants vanished in the alleys of the park.
Before sunset Dagon, a Phœnician, the most noted banker in Memphis, came to the house of Rameses. He was a man in the full bloom of life, yellow, lean, but well built. He wore a blue tunic and over it a white robe of thin texture. He had immense hair of his own, confined by a gold circlet, and a great black beard, his own also. This rich growth looked imposing in comparison with the wigs and false beards of Egyptian exquisites.
The dwelling of the heir to the throne was swarming with youth of the aristocracy. Some on the ground floor were bathing and anointing themselves, others were playing chess and checkers on the first story, others in company with dancing-girls were drinking under tents on the terrace. Rameses neither drank, played, nor talked with women; he walked along one side of the terrace awaiting the Phœnician impatiently. When he saw him emerge from an alley in a litter on two asses, he went to the first story, where there was an unoccupied chamber.
After awhile Dagon appeared in the door. He knelt on the threshold and exclaimed,—
“I greet thee, new sun of Egypt! Mayst thou live through eternity, and may thy glory reach those distant shores which are visited by the ships of Phœnicia.”
At command of the prince, he rose and said with violent gesticulations,—
“When the worthy Tutmosis descended before my mud hut—my house is a mud hut in comparison with thy palaces, erpatr—such was the gleam from his face that I cried at once to my wife, ‘Tamara, the worthy Tutmosis has come not from himself, but from one as much higher than he as the Lebanon is higher than the sand of the seashore.’ ‘Whence dost thou know, my lord, that the worthy Tutmosis has not come for himself?’ ‘Because he could not come with money, since he has none, and he could not come for money, because I have none.’ At that moment we bowed down both of us to the worthy Tutmosis. But when he told us that it was thou, most worthy lord, who desirest fifteen talents from thy slave, I asked my wife, ‘Tamara, did my heart teach me badly?’ ‘Dagon, thou art so wise that thou shouldst be an adviser to the heir,’ replied my Tamara.”
Rameses was boiling with impatience, but he listened to the banker,—he, Rameses, who stormed in the presence of his own mother and the pharaoh.
“When we, lord, stopped and understood that thou wert desirous of my services, such delight entered my house that I ordered to give the servants ten pitchers of beer, and my wife Tamara commanded me to buy her new earrings. My joy was increased so that when coming hither I did not let my driverbeat the asses. And when my unworthy feet touched thy floor, O prince, I took out a gold ring, greater than that which the worthy Herhor gave Eunana, and presented it to thy slave who poured water on my fingers. With permission, worthiness, whence came that silver pitcher from which they poured the water?”
“Azarias, the son of Gaber, sold it to me for two talents.”
“A Jew? Erpatr, dost them deal with Jews? But what will the gods say?”
“Azarias is a merchant, as thou art,” answered Rameses.
When Dagon heard this, he caught his head with both hands, he spat and groaned,—
“O Baal Tammuz! O Baaleth! O Astoreth!—Azarias, the son of Gaber, a Jew, to be such a merchant as I am. Oh, my legs, why did ye bring me hither? Oh, my heart, why dost thou suffer such pain and palpitation? Most worthy prince,” cried the Phœnician, “slay me, cut off my hand if I counterfeit gold, but say not that a Jew can be a merchant. Sooner will Tyre fall to the earth, sooner will sand occupy the site of Sidon than a Jew be a merchant. They will milk their lean goats, or mix clay with straw under blows of Egyptian sticks, but they will never sell merchandise. Tfu! tfu! Vile nation of slaves! Thieves, robbers!”
Anger boiled up in the prince, it is unknown why, but he calmed himself quickly. This seemed strange to Rameses himself, who up to that hour had not thought self-restraint needed in his case in presence of any one.
“And then,” said the heir on a sudden, “wilt thou, worthy Dagon, loan me fifteen talents?”
“O Astoreth! Fifteen talents? That is such a great weight that I should have to sit down to think of it properly.”
“Sit down then.”
“For a talent,” said Dagon, sitting in an armchair comfortably, “a man can have twelve gold chains, or sixty beautiful milch cows, or ten slaves for labor, or one slave to play on the flute or paint, and maybe even to cure. A talent is tremendous property—”
The prince’s eyes flashed,—
“Then thou hast not fifteen talents?”
The terrified Phœnician slipped suddenly from the chair to the floor.
“Who in the city,” cried he, “has not money at thy command, O child of the sun? It is true that I am a wretch whose gold, precious stones, and whole property is not worth one glance of thine, O prince, but if I go around among our merchants and say who sent me, I shall get fifteen talents even from beneath the earth. Erpatr, if thou shouldst stand before a withered fig-tree and say ‘Give money!’ the fig-tree would pay thee a ransom. But do not look at me in that way, O son of Horus, for I feel a pain in the pit of my heart and my mind is growing blunted,” finished the Phœnician, in tones of entreaty.
“Well, sit in the chair, sit in the chair,” said the prince, laughing.
Dagon rose from the floor and disposed himself still more agreeably in the armchair.
“For how long a time does the prince wish fifteen talents?”
“Certainly for a year.”
“Let us say at once three years. Only his holiness might give back fifteen talents in the course of a year, but not the youthful heir, who must receive young pleasant nobles and beautiful women.—Ah, those women!—Is it true, with thy permission, that thou hast taken to thyself Sarah the daughter of Gideon?”
“But what per cent dost thou wish?” interrupted Rameses.
“A trifle, which thy sacred lips need not mention. For fifteen talents the prince will give five talents yearly, and in the course of three years I will take back all myself, so that thou, worthiness, wilt not even know—”
“Thou wilt give me to-day fifteen talents, and during three years take back thirty?”
“Egyptian law permits percentage to equal the loan,” answered Dagon, confusedly.
“But is that not too much?”
“Too much?” cried out Dagon. “Every great lord has a great court, a great property, and pays no per cent save a great one. I should be ashamed to take less from the heir to the throne; if I did the prince himself might command to beat me with sticks and to drive me out of his presence.”
“When wilt thou bring the money?”
“Bring it? O gods, one man would not have strength to bring so much. I will do better: I will make all payments for the prince, so that, worthiness, thou wilt not need to think of such a wretched matter.”
“Then dost thou know my debts?”
“I know them a little,” answered Dagon, carelessly.
“The prince wishes to send six talents to the Eastern army; that will be done by our bankers. Three talents to the worthy Nitager and three to the worthy Patrokles; that will be done here immediately. Sarah and her father I can pay through that mangy Azarias—even better to pay them thus, for they would cheat the prince in reckoning.”
Rameses began to walk through the room impatiently.
“Then am I to give a note for thirty talents?”
“What note? why a note? what good would a note be to me? The prince will rent me for three years lands in the provinces of Takens, Ses, Neha-Chent, Neha-Pechu, in Sebt-Het, in Habu.”
“Rent them?” said the prince. “That does not please me.”
“Whence then am I to get back my money, my thirty talents?”
“Wait! I must ask the inspector of my granaries how much these properties bring me in yearly.”
“Why so much trouble, worthiness? What does the inspector know? He knows nothing; as I am an honest Phœnician, he knows nothing. Each year the harvest is different, and the income different also. I may lose in this business, and the inspector would make no return to me.”
“But seest thou, Dagon, it seems to me that those lands bring far more than ten talents yearly.”
“The prince is unwilling to trust me? Well, at command of the heir I will drop out the land of Ses. The prince is not sure of my heart yet? Well, I will yield Sebt-Het also. But what use for an inspector here? Will he teach the prince wisdom? O Astoreth! I should lose sleep and appetite if such an overseer, subject and slave, dared to correct my gracious lord. Here is needed only a scribe who will write down that my most worthy lord gives me as tenant for three years lands in suchand such a province. And sixteen witnesses will be needed to testify that such an honor from the prince has come to me. But why should servants know that their lord borrows money from Dagon?”
The wearied heir shrugged his shoulders.
“To-morrow,” said he, “thou wilt bring the money, and bring a scribe and witnesses. I do not wish to think of it.”
“Oh, what wise words!” cried the Phœnician. “Mayst thou live, worthiest lord, through eternity!”
ON the right bank of the Nile, on the edge of the northern suburb of Memphis, was that land which the heir to the throne had given as place of residence to Sarah the daughter of Gideon.
That was a possession thirty-five acres in area, forming a quadrangle which was seen from the house-top as something on the palm of the hand. The land was on a hill and was divided into four elevations. The two lowest and widest, which the Nile always flooded, were intended for grain and for vegetables. The third, which at times was untouched by the overflow, produced palms, figs, and other fruit-trees. On the fourth, the highest, was a garden planted with olives, grapes, nuts, and sweet chestnuts; in the middle garden stood the dwelling.
This dwelling was of wood, one story, as usual, with a flat roof on which was a tent made of canvas. On the ground dwelt the prince’s black slave; above Sarah with her relative and serving-woman Tafet. The place was surrounded by a wall of partially burnt brick, beyond which at a certain distance were houses for cattle, workmen, and overseers.
Sarah’s chambers were not large, but they were elegant. On the floor were divans, at the doors and windows were curtains with stripes of various colors. There were armchairs and a carved bed, inlaid boxes for clothing, three-legged and one-legged tables on which were pots with flowers, a slender pitcher for wine, boxes and bottles of perfume, golden and silver cupsand goblets, porcelain vases and dishes, bronze candlesticks. Even the smallest furniture or vessel was ornamented with carving or with a colored drawing; every piece of clothing with lace or bordering.
Sarah had dwelt ten days in this retreat, hiding herself before people from fear and shame, so that almost no one of the servants had seen her. In the curtained chamber she sewed, wove linen on a small loom, or twined garlands of living flowers for Rameses. Sometimes she went out on the terrace, pushed apart the sides of the tent with care, and looked at the Nile covered with boats in which oarsmen were singing songs joyfully. On raising her eyes she looked with fear at the gray pylons of the pharaoh’s palace, which towered silent and gloomy above the other bank of the river. Then she ran again to her work and called Tafet.
“Sit here, mother,” said she; “what art thou doing down there?”
“The gardener has brought fruit, and they have sent bread, wine, and game from the city; I must take them.”
“Sit here and talk, for fear seizes me.”
“Thou art a foolish child,” said Tafet, smiling. “Fear looked at me too the first day from every corner; but when I went out beyond the wall, there was no more of it. Whom have I to fear here? All fall on their knees before me. Before thee they would stand on their heads even! Go to the garden; it is as beautiful as paradise. Look out at the field, see the wheat harvest; sit down in the carved boat the owner of which is withering from anxiety to see thee and take thee out on the river.”
“I am afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Do I know? While I am sewing, I think that I am in our valley and that my father will come right away; but when the wind pushes the curtain aside from the window and I look on this great country it seems to me,—knowest what?—that some mighty vulture has caught and borne me to his nest on a mountain, whence I have no power to save myself.”
“Ah, thou—thou! If thou hadst seen what a bathtub the prince sent this morning, a bronze one; and what a tripod forthe fire, what pots and spits! And if thou knew that to-day I have put two hens to set, and before long we shall have little chicks here.”
Sarah was more daring after sunset, when no one could see her. She went out on the roof and looked at the river. And when from afar a boat appeared, flaming with torches, which formed fiery and bloody lines along the dark water, she pressed with both hands her poor heart, which quivered like a bird caught that instant. Rameses was coming, and she could not tell what had seized her,—delight because that beautiful youth was approaching whom she had seen in the valley, or dread because she would see again a great lord and ruler who made her timid.
One Sabbath evening her father came for the first time since she had settled in that villa. Sarah rushed to him with weeping; she washed his feet herself, poured perfumes on his head, and covered him with kisses. Gideon was an old man of stern features. He wore a long robe reaching his feet and edged at the bottom with colored embroidery; over this he wore a yellow sleeveless kaftan. A kind of cape covered his breast and shoulders. On his head was a smallish cap, growing narrow toward the top.
“Thou art here! thou art here!” exclaimed Sarah; and she kissed his head again.
“I am astonished myself at being here,” said Gideon, sadly. “I stole to the garden like a criminal; I thought, along the whole way from Memphis, that all the Egyptians were pointing me out with their fingers and that each Jew was spitting.”
“But thou didst give me thyself to the prince, father.”
“I did, for what could I do? Of course it only seems to me that they point and spit. Of Egyptians, whoever knows me bows the lower the higher he is himself. Since thou art here our lord Sesofris has said that he must enlarge my house; Chaires gave me a jar of the best wine, and our most worthy nomarch himself has sent a trusty servant to ask if thou art well, and if I will not become his manager.”
“But the Jews?” inquired Sarah.
“What of the Jews! They know that I did not yield of my own will. Every one of them would wish to be constrained inlike manner. Let the Lord God judge us all. Better tell how thou art feeling.”
“In Abraham’s bosom she will not have more comfort,” said Tafet. “Every day they bring us fruit, wine, bread, meat, and whatever the soul wishes. And such baths as we have, all bronze, and such kitchen utensils!”
“Three days ago,” interrupted Sarah, “the Phœnician Dagon was here. I did not wish to see him, but he insisted.”
“He gave me a gold ring,” added Tafet.
“He told me,” continued Sarah, “that he was a tenant of my lord; he gave me two anklets, pearl earrings, and a box of perfumes from the land of Punt.”
“Why did he give them to thee?” asked her father.
“For nothing. He simply begged that I would think well of him, and tell my lord sometimes that Dagon was his most faithful servant.”
“Very soon thou wilt have a whole box of earrings and bracelets,” said Gideon, smiling. But after a moment he added: “Gather up a great property quickly and let us flee back to our own land, for here there is misery at all times, misery when we are in trouble, and still more of it when we are prosperous.”
“And what would my lord say?” asked Sarah, with sadness.
Her father shook his head.
“Before a year passes thy lord will cast thee aside, and others will help him. Wert thou an Egyptian, he would take thee to his palace; but a Jewess—”
“He will cast aside?” said Sarah, sighing.
“Why torment one’s self with days to come, which are in the hand of God? I am here to pass the Sabbath with thee.”
“I have splendid fish, meat, cakes, and wine of the Jews,” put in Tafet, quickly. “I have bought also, in Memphis, a seven-branched candlestick and wax tapers. We shall have a better supper than has Lord Chaires.”
Gideon went out on the flat roof with his daughter.
“Tafet tells me,” said he, when they were alone, “that thou art always in the house. Why is this? Thou shouldst look at least on the garden.”
“I am afraid,” whispered Sarah.
“Why be afraid of thy own garden? Here thou art mistress, a great lady.”
“Once I went out in the daytime. People of some sort stared at me, and said to one another, ‘Look! that is the heir’s Jewess; she delays the overflow.’”
“They are fools!” interrupted Gideon. “Is this the first time that the Nile is late in its overflow? But go out in the evening.”
Sarah shook her head with greater vigor.
“I do not wish, I do not wish. Another time I went out in the evening. All at once two women pushed out from a side path. I was frightened and wished to flee, when one of them, the younger and smaller, seized my hands, saying, ‘Do not flee, we must look at thee;’ the second, the elder and taller, stood some steps in front and looked me in the eyes directly. Ah, father, I thought that I should turn into stone. What a look, what a woman!”
“Who could she be?” asked Gideon.
“The elder woman looked like a priestess.”
“And did she say anything?”
“Nothing. But when going and they were hidden behind trees, I heard surely the voice of the elder say these words: ‘Indeed she is beautiful!’”
Gideon fell to thinking.
“Maybe they were great ladies from the court.”
The sun went down, and on both banks of the Nile dense crowds of people collected waiting impatiently for the signal of the overflow, which in fact was belated. For two days the wind had been blowing from the sea and the river was green; the sun had passed the star Sothis already, but in the well of the priest in Memphis the water had not risen even the breadth of a finger. The people were alarmed, all the more since in Upper Egypt, according to signals, the overflow proceeded with regular increase and even promised to be perfect.
“What detains it at Memphis then?” asked the anxious earth-tillers waiting for the signal in disquiet.
When the stars had appeared in the sky, Tafet spread a white cloth on the table, placed on it the candlestick with seven lighted torches, pushed up three armchairs, and announced that the Sabbath supper would be served immediately.
Gideon covered his head then, and raising both hands above the table, said with his eyes looking heavenward,—
“God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Thou who didst lead our people out of Egypt, who didst give a country to the slave and exile, who didst make with the sons of Judah an eternal covenant, O Jehovah, O Adonai, permit us to enjoy without sin the fruits of the enemies’ country. Bring us out of sorrow and fear in which we are buried, and restore us to the banks of the Jordan, which we left for Thy glory.”
At the moment a voice was heard from beyond the wall,—
“His worthiness Tutmosis, the most faithful servant of his holiness and of his son Prince Rameses!”
“May he live through eternity!” called a number of voices from the garden.
“His worthiness,” said a single voice again, “sends greeting to the most beautiful rose of Lebanon.”
When the voice ceased, the sound of harps and flutes was heard.
“That is music!” exclaimed Tafet, clapping her hands. “We shall pass the Sabbath with music.”
Sarah and her father, frightened at first, began to laugh, and sat down again at the table.
“Let them play,” said Gideon; “their music is not bad for the appetite.”
The flute and harp played, then a tenor voice sang,—
“Thou art more beautiful than all the maidens who look at themselves in the Nile. Thy hair is blacker than the feathers of a raven, thy eyes have a milder glance than the eyes of a deer which is yearning for its fawn. Thy stature is the stature of a palm, and the lotus envies thee thy charm. Thy bosoms are like grape clusters with the juice of which kings delight themselves.”
Again the flute and harp were heard, and next a song,—
“Come and repose in the garden. The servants which belong to thee will bring various vessels and beer of all kinds. Come, let us celebrate this night and the dawn which will follow it. In my shadow, in the shadow of the fig, giving sweet fruit, thy lover will rest at thy right hand; and thou wilt give him to drink and consent to all his wishes—”
Next came the flutes and harps, and after them a new song,—
“I am of a silent disposition, I never tell what I see, I spoil not the sweetness of my fruits with vain tattling.”[4]
[4]Authentic.
[4]Authentic.
THE song ceased, drowned by an uproar and by a noise as of many people running.
“Unbelievers! Enemies of Egypt!” cried some one. “Ye are singing when we are sunk in suffering, and ye are praising the Jewess who stops the flow of the Nile with her witchcraft.”
“Woe to you!” cried another. “Ye are trampling the land of Prince Rameses. Death will fall on you and your children.”
“We will go, but let the Jewess come out so that we may tell our wrongs to her.”
“Let us flee!” screamed Tafet.
“Whither?” inquired Gideon.
“Never!” said Sarah, on whose mild face appeared a flush of anger. “Do I not belong to the heir, before whose face those people all prostrate themselves?”
And before her father and the old woman had regained their senses, she, all in white, had run out on the roof and called to the throng beyond the wall,—
“Here I am! What do ye want of me?”
The uproar was stilled for a moment, but again threatening voices were raised,—
“Be accursed, thou strange woman whose sin stops the Nile in its overflow!”
A number of stones hurled at random whistled through the air; one of them struck Sarah’s forehead.
“Father!” cried she, seizing her head.
Gideon caught her in his arms and bore her from the terrace. In the night were visible people, in white caps and skirts, who climbed over the wall below.
Tafet screamed in a heaven-piercing voice, the black slaveseized an axe, took his place in the doorway, and declared that he would split the head of any man daring to enter.
“Stone that Nubian dog!” cried men from the wall to the crowd of people.
But the people became silent all at once, for from the depth of the garden came a man with shaven head; from this man’s shoulders depended a panther skin.
“A prophet! A holy father!” murmured some in the crowd. Those sitting on the wall began now to spring down from it.
“People of Egypt,” said the priest, calmly, “with what right do ye raise hands on the property of the erpatr?”
“The unclean Jewess dwells here, who stops the rise of the Nile. Woe to us! misery and famine are hanging over Lower Egypt.”
“People of weak mind or of evil faith,” said the priest, “where have ye heard that one woman could stop the will of the gods? Every year in the month Thoth the Nile begins to increase and rises till the month Choeak. Has it ever happened otherwise, though our land has been full at all times of strangers, sometimes foreign priests and princes, who groaning in captivity and grievous labor might utter the most dreadful curses through sorrow and anger? They would have brought on our heads all kinds of misfortune, and more than one of them would have given their lives if only the sun would not rise over Egypt in the morning, or if the Nile would not rise when the year began. And what came of their prayers? Either they were not heard in the heavens, or foreign gods had no power in presence of the gods of Egypt. How then is a woman who lives pleasantly among us to cause a misfortune which is beyond the power of our mightiest enemies?”
“The holy father speaks truth. Wise are the words of the prophet!” said people among the multitude.
“But Messu (Moses), the Jewish leader, brought darkness and death into Egypt!” said one voice.
“Let the man who said that step forth,” cried the priest. “I challenge him, let him come forward, unless he is an enemy of the Egyptian people.”
The crowd murmured like a wind from afar blowing between trees, but no man came forward.
“I speak truth,” continued the priest; “evil men are moving among you like hyenas in a sheepfold. They have no pity on your misery, they urged you to destroy the house of the heir and to rebel against the pharaoh. If their vile plan had succeeded and blood had begun to flow from your bosoms, they would have hidden before spears as they hide now before my challenge.”
“Listen to the prophet! Praise to thee, man of God!” cried the people, inclining their foreheads.
The most pious fell to the earth.
“Hear me, Egyptian people. In return for your faith in the words of a priest, for your obedience to the pharaoh and the heir, for the honor which ye give to a servant of the god, a favor will be shown you. Go to your houses in peace, and even before ye have left this hill the Nile will be rising.”
“Oh, may it rise!”
“Go! The greater your faith and piety the more quickly will ye see the sign of favor.”
“Let us go! Let us go! Be blessed, O prophet, thou son of prophets!”
They began to separate, kissing the robe of the priest. With that some one shouted,—
“The miracle, the miracle is accomplished.”
On the tower in Memphis a light flamed up.
“The Nile is rising! See, more and more lights! Indeed a mighty saint spoke to us. May he live through eternity!”
They turned toward the priest, but he had vanished among shadows.
The throng raging a little while earlier, amazed and filled now with gratitude, forgot both its anger and the wonder-working priest. It was mastered by a wild delight; men rushed to the bank of the river, on which many lights were burning and where a great hymn was rising from the assembled people,—
“Be greeted, O Nile, sacred river, which appearest on this country! Thou comest in peace, to give life to Egypt. O hidden deity who scatterest darkness, who moistenest the fields, to bring food to dumb animals, O thou the precious one, descending from heaven to give drink to the earth, O friend of bread, thou who gladdenest our cottages! Thou art the masterof fishes; when thou art in our fields no bird dares touch the harvest. Thou art the creator of grain and the parent of barley; thou givest rest to the hands of millions of the unfortunate and for ages thou securest the sanctuary.”[5]