[6]The spirits of the northern and eastern parts of the world.
[6]The spirits of the northern and eastern parts of the world.
“Thou hast come for money, though thou art not a merchant.Visit me this day after sunset.Thy wishes will be accomplished,” said she, aloud. “They should be accomplished.I live on the Street of Tombs in the house of the Green Star,” whispered she. “But beware of thieves who are watching for thy property,” finished she, seeing that the worthy Asarhadon was listening.
“There are no thieves in my house!” burst out the Phœnician. “None steal except those who come from the street.”
“Be not angry, old man,” replied the priestess, jeeringly,“or a red line will come out on thy neck right away; that means an unlucky death.”
When he heard this, Asarhadon spat three times, and in a low voice repeated a charm against evil predictions. When he had moved away to the depth of the gallery, the priestess began to coquet with the Harran man. She gave him a rose from her crown, embraced him at parting, and went to the other tables.
The traveller beckoned to the host.
“I wish,” said he, “that woman to come to me. Give command to conduct her to my chamber.”
Asarhadon looked into his eyes, clapped his hands, and burst out laughing.
“Typhon has possessed thee, O man of Harran!” cried he. “If anything of that sort happened in my house with an Egyptian priestess, they would drive me out of the city. Here it is permissible to receive only foreign women.”
“In that case I will go to her,” answered Phut, “for she is a wise and devout person, and has told me of many happenings. After sunset thou wilt give me a guide, so that I may not go astray.”
“All the evil spirits have entered thy heart,” said Asarhadon. “Dost thou know that this acquaintance will cost thee two hundred drachmas, perhaps three hundred, not counting that which thou must give the servants and the sanctuary. For such a sum, or say five hundred drachmas, thou mayst make the acquaintance of a young and virtuous woman, my daughter, who is now fourteen years of age, and like a prudent girl is collecting for herself a dowry. Do not wander in the night through a strange city, for thou wilt fall into the hands of the police or of thieves, but make use of that which the gods give thee at home. Dost thou wish?”
“But will thy daughter go with me to Harran?” inquired Phut.
The innkeeper looked at him with astonishment. All at once he struck his forehead, as if he had divined a secret, and seizing the traveller by the hand, he drew him to a quieter place at the window.
“I know all,” whispered he, excitedly. “Thou art dealing in women. But remember that for taking away one Egyptianwoman thou mayst lose thy property and go to the quarries. But—perhaps thou wilt take me into thy company, for here I know every road.”
“In that case show me the road to the priestess,” said Phut. “Remember that after sunset thou art to have a guide for me, and to-morrow my bags and casket, otherwise I shall complain to the court.”
Then Phut left the gallery and went to his chamber on a higher story.
Asarhadon with anger approached a table at which Phœnician merchants were drinking, and called aside one of them named Kush.
“Thou bringest beautiful guests to me!” said he, unable to restrain the quivering of his voice. “That Phut eats almost nothing, and now, as if to insult my house, he is going out to an Egyptian dancer instead of giving presents to my women.”
“What wonder in that?” answered Kush, smiling. “He could find a Phœnician woman in Sidon, but here he prefers an Egyptian. A fool is he who in Cyprus does not taste Cyprus wine, but Tyrian beer—”
“But I say,” broke in the host, “that that man is dangerous. He seems to be a citizen, though he looks like a priest.”
“Thou, Asarhadon, hast the look of a high priest, though thou art only an innkeeper. A bench does not cease to be a bench, though it has a lion’s skin on it.”
“But why does he go to priestesses? I would swear that that is a pretence, and that this churlish Hittite, instead of going to a feast with women, is going to some meeting of conspirators.”
“Anger and greed have darkened thy reason,” answered Kush, with impatience. “Thou art like a man who looking for melons on a fig-tree sees not the figs on it. It is clear to any merchant that if Phut is to collect five talents from a priest he must win favors from all who go around in the sanctuaries. But thou hast no understanding.”
“My heart tells me that this must be an Assyrian ambassador watching to destroy his holiness.”
Kush looked with contempt on Asarhadon.
“Watch him, then; follow every step of his. If thou discover anything, perhaps thou wilt get some part of his property.”
“Oh, now thou hast given wise counsel,” said the host. “Let that rat go to the priestesses, and from them to places unknown to me. But I will send after him my vision, from which nothing will be secret.”
ABOUT nine in the evening Phut left the inn “Under the Ship” in company with a negro who carried a torch. Half an hour earlier Asarhadon sent out a confidential servant, commanding him to observe carefully if the guest from Harran left the house of the “Green Star,” and if so to follow him.
A second confidential servant went at a certain distance behind Phut; in the narrower streets he hid among the houses, on the broader ones he feigned drunkenness.
The streets were empty; carriers and hucksters were sleeping. There was light only in the houses of artisans who were at work, or in those of rich people who were feasting on the terraces. In various houses were heard the sounds of harps and flutes, songs, laughter, the blows of hammers, the sound of saws in the hands of cabinet makers; at times the cry of a drunken man, or a call for assistance.
The streets along which Phut and the slave passed were narrow for the greater part, crooked and full of holes. As they approached the end of the journey, the stone houses were lower and lower, those of one story more frequent, and there were more gardens, or rather palms, fig-trees, and stunted acacias, which, inclining out from between the walls, seemed to have the intention to escape from their places. On the Street of Tombs the view changed on a sudden. In place of stone buildings there were broad gardens, and in the middle of them splendid villas. The negro stopped before one of the gates and quenched his torch.
“Here is the ‘Green Star,’” said he, and, making a low bow to Phut, he turned homeward.
The man of Harran knocked at the gate. After a while the gatekeeper appeared. He looked attentively at the stranger, and muttered,—
“Anael, Sachiel.”
“Amabiel, Abalidot,” answered Phut.
“Be greeted,” said the gatekeeper; and he opened quickly to the visitor.
When he had passed some tens of steps between trees, Phut found himself in the antechamber of the villa, where the priestess whom he knew greeted him. Farther in stood some man with black beard and hair; so much like the man of Harran was he, that Phut could not hide his astonishment.
“He will take thy place in the eyes of those who are spying thee,” said the priestess, smiling.
The man who was disguised as Phut put a garland of roses on his head, and in company with the priestess went to the first story, where the sound of flutes and the clatter of goblets were heard soon after. Meanwhile two inferior priests conducted Phut to a bath in the garden. After the bath they curled his hair and put white robes on him.
From the bath all three went out again among the trees, passed a number of gardens, and found themselves in an empty space finally.
“There,” said one of the priests, “are the ancient tombs; on that side is the city, and here the temple. Go whithersoever thou wishest. May wisdom point out the road to thee, and sacred words guard thee from perils.”
The two priests went back to the garden, and Phut was in solitude. The moonless night was rather clear. From afar, covered with mist, glittered the Nile; higher up gleamed the seven stars of the Great Bear. Over the head of the stranger was Orion, and above the dark pylons flamed the star Sirius.
“The stars shine in our land more brightly,” thought Phut.
He began to whisper prayers in an unknown tongue, and turned toward the temple.
When he had gone a number of steps, from one of the gardens a man pushed out and followed him. But almost at that very moment such a thick fog fell on the place that it was quite impossible to see aught save the roofs of the temple.
After a certain time the man of Harran came to a high wall. He looked up at the sky and began to go westward. From moment to moment night birds and great bats flew above him.The mist had become so dense that he was forced to touch the wall so as not to lose it. The journey had lasted rather long when all at once Phut found himself before a low door with a multitude of bronze nail heads. He fell to counting these from the left side on the top; at the same time he pressed some of them powerfully, others he turned.
When he had pressed the last nail at the bottom, the door opened. The man of Harran advanced a few steps, and found himself in a narrow niche where there was utter darkness.
He tried the ground carefully with his foot till he struck upon something like the brink of a well from which issued coolness. He sat down then and slipped fearlessly into the abyss, though he found himself in that place and in Egypt for the first time.
The opening was not deep. Phut stood erect on a sloping pavement, and began to descend along a narrow corridor with as much confidence as if he had known the passage for a lifetime.
At the end of the corridor was a door. By groping the stranger found a knocker, and struck three times with it. In answer came a voice, it was unknown from what direction.
“Hast thou, who art disturbing in a night hour the peace of a holy place, the right to enter?”
“I have done no wrong to man, child, or woman. Blood has not stained my hands. I have eaten no unclean food. I have not taken another’s property. I have not lied. I have not betrayed the great secret,” answered the man of Harran, calmly.
“Art thou he for whom we are waiting, or he who in public thou declarest thyself to be?” inquired the voice, after a while.
“I am he who was to come from brethren in the East; but that other name is mine also, and in the northern city I possess a house and land, as I have told other persons.”
The door opened, and Phut walked into a spacious cellar which was lighted by a lamp burning on a small table before a purple curtain. On the curtain was embroidered in gold a winged globe with two serpents.
At one side stood an Egyptian priest in a white robe.
“Dost thou who hast entered,” asked the priest, pointing at Phut, “know what this sign on the curtain signifies?”
“The globe,” answered the stranger, “is an image of the world on which we live; the wings indicate that it is borne through space like an eagle.”
“And the serpents?” asked the priest.
“The two serpents remind him who is wise that whoso betrays the great secret will die a double death,—he will die soul and body.”
After a moment of silence the priest continued,—
“If thou art in real fact Beroes” (here he inclined his head), “the great prophet of Chaldea” (he inclined his head a second time), “for whom there is no secret in heaven or on earth, be pleased to inform thy servant which star is the most wonderful.”
“Wonderful is Hor-set,[7]which encircles heaven in the course of twelve years; for four smaller stars go around it. But the most wonderful is Horka,[8]which encircles heaven in thirty years; for it has subject to it not only stars, but a great ring which vanishes sometimes.”
[7]Jupiter.[8]Saturn.
[7]Jupiter.
[8]Saturn.
On hearing this, the Egyptian priest prostrated himself before the Chaldean. Then he gave him a purple scarf and a muslin veil, indicated where the incense was, and left the cave with low obeisances.
The Chaldean remained alone. He put the scarf on his right shoulder, covered his face with the veil, and, taking a golden spoon sprinkled into it incense, which he lighted at the lamp before the curtain. Whispering, he turned three times in a circle, and the smoke of the incense surrounded him with a triple ring, as it were.
During this time a wonderful disturbance prevailed in the cave. It seemed as if the top were rising and the sides spreading out. The purple curtain at the altar quivered, as if moved by hidden fingers. The air began to move in waves, as if flocks of unseen birds were flying through it.
The Chaldean opened the robe on his bosom, and drew forth a gold medal covered with mysterious characters. The cavetrembled, the sacred curtain moved with violence, and little flames appeared in space at various points.
Then the seer raised his hands and began,—
“O Heavenly Father, gracious and merciful, purify my spirit. Send down on Thy unworthy servant a blessing, and extend Thy almighty arm against rebellious spirits, so that I may manifest Thy power.
“Here is the sign which I touch in thy presence. Here I am—I, leaning on the assistance of that God, the foreseeing and the fearless. I am mighty, and summon and conjure thee. Come hither with obedience,—in the name of Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye!”
At that moment from various sides were heard voices as of distant trumpets. Near the lamp some bird flew past, then a robe of ruddy color, afterward a man with a tail, finally a crowned cock which stood on the table before the curtain.
The Chaldean spoke again,—
“In the name of the Almighty and Eternal—Amorul, Taneha, Rabur, Latisten.”
Distant sounds of trumpets were heard for a second time.
“In the name of the just and ever-living Eloy, Archima, Rabu, I conjure and summon thee. In the name of the star, which is the sun, by this its sign, by the glorious and awful name of the living God.”
The trumpets sounded again, and stopped on a sudden. Before the altar appeared a crowned vision with a sceptre in its hand, and sitting on a lion.
“Beroes! Beroes!” cried the vision, with a restrained voice. “Why dost thou summon me?”
“I wish my brethren of this temple to receive me with sincere hearts, and incline their ears to the words which I bring them from brethren in Babylon,” said the Chaldean.
“Be it so,” said the vision, and vanished.
The Chaldean stood as motionless as a statue, with his head thrown back, with hands lifted upward. He stood thus half an hour in a position impossible for an ordinary person.
During this time a part of the wall which formed one side of the cave pushed back, and three Egyptian priests entered. At sight of the Chaldean, who seemed to lie in the air, resting hisshoulders on an invisible support, the priests looked at one another with amazement. The eldest said,—
“Long ago there were men like this among us, but no one has such power in our day.”
They walked around him on all sides, touched his stiffened members, and looked with fear at his face, which was bloodless and sallow, like that of a corpse.
“Is he dead?” asked the youngest.
After these words the body of the Chaldean, which had been bent backward, returned to a perpendicular position. On his face appeared a slight flush, and his upraised hands dropped. He sighed, rubbed his eyes like a man roused from sleep, looked at the priests, and said after a while, turning to the eldest,—
“Thou art Mefres, high priest of the temple of Ptah in Memphis. Thou art Herhor, high priest of Amon in Thebes, the first dignity in this state after the pharaoh. Thou,” he indicated the youngest, “art Pentuer, the second prophet in the temple of Amon, and the adviser of Herhor.”
“Thou art undoubtedly Beroes, the high priest and sage of Babylon, whose coming was announced to us a year ago,” answered Mefres.
“Thou hast told truth,” said the Chaldean.
He embraced them in turn, and they inclined before him.
“I bring you great words from our common fatherland, which is Wisdom,” said Beroes. “Be pleased to listen and act as is needful.”
At a sign from Herhor, Pentuer withdrew to the rear of the cave and brought out three armchairs of light wood for his superiors, and a low stool for his own use. He seated himself near the lamp, and took from his bosom a small dagger and wax-covered tablets.
When all three had occupied their chairs, the Chaldean began,—
“Mefres, the highest college of priests in Babylon addresses thee: ‘The sacred order of priests in Egypt is falling. Many priests collect money and women, and pass their lives amid pleasure. Wisdom is neglected. Ye have no power over the world which is invisible. Ye have no powerover your own souls. Some of you have lost the highest faith, and the future is concealed from you. Things worse than this even happen; for many priests, feeling that their spiritual power is exhausted, have entered the way of falsehood and deceive simple people by cunning devices.’
“The highest college says this: ‘If ye wish to return to the good road, Beroes will remain some years with you, so as to rouse true light on the Nile by the aid of a spark brought from the high altar of Babylon.’”
“All is as thou sayest,” answered Mefres, confused. “Remain with us therefore a number of years, so that the youth growing up at present may remember thy wisdom.”
“And now, Herhor, to thee come words from the highest college.”
Herhor inclined his head.
“Because ye neglect the great secrets, your priests have not noted that evil years are approaching Egypt. Ye are threatened by internal disasters from which only virtue and wisdom can save you. But the worst is that if in the course of the coming decade ye begin war with Assyria, she will defeat your forces. Her armies will come to the Nile and destroy all that has existed here for ages.
“Such an ominous juncture of stars as is now weighing on Egypt happened first during the XIV. dynasty, when the Hyksos kings captured and plundered this country. It will come for the third time in five or six hundred years from Assyria and the people of Paras, who dwell to the east of Chaldea.”
The priests listened in terror. Herhor was pale; the tablets fell from Pentuer’s fingers; Mefres held the amulet hanging on his breast, and prayed while his lips were parching.
“Be on your guard then against Assyria,” continued the Chaldean, “for her hour is the present. The Assyrians are a dreadful people! They despise labor, they live by war. They conquer, they impale on stakes or flay living people, they destroy captured cities and lead away their inhabitants to bondage. For them to kill savage beasts is repose; to pierce prisoners with arrows or scoop out their eyes is amusement. Temples they turn into ruins, the vessels of the gods they useat their banquets, and make buffoons of priests and sages. They adorn their walls with skins torn from living people, and their tables with the blood-stained skulls of their enemies.”
When the Chaldean ceased speaking, the worthy Mefres answered,—
“Great prophet, thou hast cast fear on our souls, and dost not indicate a remedy. It may be true, and to a certainty is so, since thou hast said it, that the fates for a certain time will be against us, but how avoid this predicament? In the Nile there are dangerous places through which no boat can pass safely; so the wisdom of the helmsmen avoids deadly whirlpools. It is the same with misfortunes of nations. A nation is a boat, and an epoch is the river, which at certain periods has whirlpools. If the frail boat of a fisherman can avoid peril, why should not millions of people escape under similar conditions?”
“Thy words are wise,” replied Beroes, “but I can answer in part only.”
“Dost thou not know all that will happen?” asked Herhor.
“Ask me not touching that which I know, but which I may not disclose at this moment. Most important in your case is to keep peace for ten years with Assyria. Ye have power to do that. Assyria still dreads you; she knows not the juncture of evil fates above Egypt, and desires to wage war with northern and eastern nations who live near the seacoast. Ye might, therefore, conclude a treaty to-day with Assyria.”
“On what conditions?” asked Herhor.
“On very good ones. Assyria will yield to you the land of Israel as far as the city of Akko, and the land of Edom to the city of Elath. So your boundaries will be advanced ten days march toward the north without war, and ten days toward the east also.”
“But Phœnicia?” inquired Herhor.
“Approach not temptation!” exclaimed Beroes. “If the pharaoh were to stretch his hand to-day toward Phœnicia, in a month Assyrian armies intended for the north and east would turn southward, and a year hence or earlier their horses would be swimming in your sacred river.”
“Egypt cannot renounce influence over Phœnicia,” interrupted Herhor, with an outburst.
“Should she not renounce she would prepare her own ruin,” said the Chaldean. “Moreover, I repeat the words of the highest college: ‘Tell Egypt,’ declared the brothers in Babylon, ‘to cower to the earth for ten years, like a partridge, for the falcon of evil fate is watching her. Tell her that we Chaldeans hate Assyria more than do the Egyptians, for we endure the burden of its rule; but still we recommend to the Egyptians peace with that bloodthirsty nation. Ten years is a short period; after that not only can ye regain your ancient place, but ye can save us.’”
“That is true!” added Mefres.
“Only consider,” continued the Chaldean, “should Assyria begin war with you, she would involve also Babylon, which hates warfare. War will exhaust our wealth and stop the labor of wisdom. Even were ye not defeated your country would be ruined for a long period. Ye would lose not only people, but the fertile soil, which would be buried by sand in the absence of earth-tillers.”
“We understand that,” replied Herhor; “hence we have no thought of attacking Assyria. But Phœnicia—”
“What harm will it be to you,” asked Beroes, “if the Assyrian robber squeezes the Phœnician thief? Your merchants and ours will gain by such action. But if ye want Phœnicians, let them settle on your shores. I am sure that the richest and most adroit of them would flee from Assyrian conquest.”
“What would happen to our fleet, if the Assyrians settled in Phœnicia?” inquired Herhor.
“That is not your fleet, but the Phœnician,” replied Beroes. “When Tyrian and Sidonian ships are lost to you, ye will build your own, and exercise Egyptians in navigation. If ye have mind and a practical character, ye will drive out Phœnician commerce from western regions.”
Herhor waved his hand.
“I have told that which was commanded me,” said Beroes, “and do ye that which pleaseth you. But remember that ten evil years are impending.”
“It seems to me, holy father,” said Pentuer, “that thou didst speak of internal troubles which threaten Egypt in the future. What will they be, if it please thee to answer thy servant?”
“Do not ask. Those are things which ye ought to know better than I, who am a stranger. Clear sight will discover the disease, and experience will give the remedy.”
“Our working people are terribly oppressed by the great,” whispered Pentuer.
“Devotion has decreased,” added Mefres.
“There are many who sigh for a foreign war,” began Herhor. “I have seen this long time that we cannot carry on one, unless ten years hence—”
“Then will ye conclude a treaty with Assyria?” inquired the Chaldean.
“Amon, who knows my heart,” answered Herhor, “knows how repugnant that treaty is to me. It is not so long since those vile Assyrians paid us tribute. But if thou, holy father, and the highest college say that the fates are against us, we must make the treaty.”
“We must indeed,” added Mefres.
“In that case inform the priests in Babylon of your decision, and they will arrange that King Assar shall send an embassy to Egypt. This treaty, believe me, is of great advantage; without war ye will increase your possessions. Indeed our priesthood have given deep thought to this question.”
“May all blessings fall on you, wealth, power, and wisdom,” said Mefres. “Yes, we must raise our priestly order, and do thou, holy Beroes, assist us.”
“There is need, above all, to assuage the suffering of the people,” put in Pentuer.
“The priests! the people!” said Herhor, as if to himself. “Above all, it is needful in this case to restrain those who wish war. It is true that his holiness the pharaoh is with me, and I think I have gained influence over the heir,—may he live through eternity! But Nitager, to whom war is as water to a fish; but the leaders of our mercenary forces, who only in war have significance; but our aristocracy, who think that war will pay Phœnician debts and give them property—”
“Meanwhile earth-tillers are fainting beneath an avalanche of labor, and public workmen are revolting against demands of overseers,” added Pentuer.
“He is always expressing his thought!” said Herhor, in meditation. “Think thou, Pentuer, of earth-tillers and laborers; thou, Mefres, of the priests. I know not what ye will effect, but I swear that if my own son favored war I would bind and destroy him.”
“Act in this way,” said Beroes,—“let him carry on war who wishes, but not in those regions where he can meet Assyria.”
With this the session ended. The Chaldean put his scarf on his shoulder and the veil on his face; Mefres and Herhor, one on each side of him, and behind him Pentuer, all turned toward the altar.
When Beroes had crossed his hands on his breast, he whispered, and again subterranean disturbance set in, and they heard as it were a distant uproar, which astonished the assistants.
“Baralanensis, Baldachiensis, Paumachiæ,” said the seer, aloud, “I summon thee to witness our stipulations and support our wishes.”
The sound of trumpets was heard so distinctly that Mefres bowed to the earth, Herhor looked around in astonishment, while Pentuer knelt, fell to trembling, and covered his ears.
The purple curtain at the altar shook, and its folds took such a form as if a man were behind who wished to pass through it.
“Be witnesses,” cried the Chaldean, in a changed voice, “ye powers above and ye powers beneath! And cursed be he who observes not this treaty or betrays its secret.”
“Cursed!” repeated some voice.
“And destroyed!”
“And destroyed.”
“In this visible and in that invisible life. By the ineffable name of Jehovah, at the sound of which the earth trembles, the sea draws back, fire quenches, and the elements of nature become evident.”
A real tempest rose in the cave. The sound of trumpets was mingled with voices, as it were, of distant thunders.
The curtain of the altar rose almost horizontally, and behindit, amid glittering lightning, appeared wonderful creatures, half human, half plant and animal, crowded and mingled together.
Suddenly all was silent, and Beroes rose slowly in the air, higher than the heads of the priests there attending.
At eight o’clock next morning Phut of Harran returned to the Phœnician inn “Under the Ship” to which his bags and casket stolen by thieves had been returned safely. A few minutes later came Asarhadon’s confidential servant, whom the innkeeper took to the cellar and examined briefly,—
“Well?”
“I was all night on the square where the temple of Set is,” answered the servant. “At ten in the evening out of the garden which lies about four places farther than the house of the ‘Green Star,’ came three priests. One of them, with black beard and hair, turned his steps through the square toward the temple of Set. I ran after him, but mist fell, and he vanished from my eyes. Whether he returned to the ‘Green Star’ or when, I know not.”
The innkeeper, when he had heard this account, struck his forehead and muttered to himself,—
“So my man from Harran, if he dresses as a priest and goes to a temple, must be a priest; and if he wears beard and hair, he must be a Chaldean priest. But if he meets priests here in secret, there must be some rogue’s tricks. I will not tell the police, for I might be caught. But I will inform some great man from Sidon, for there may be profit in this, if not for me, for our people.”
Soon the other messenger returned. Asarhadon went down to the cellar with this one also, and heard the following narrative,—
“I stood all night in front of the ‘Green Star.’ The man of Harran was there; he got drunk and raised such shouts that the policeman warned the doorkeeper.”
“Did he?” inquired the innkeeper. “The man of Harran was at the ‘Green Star’ all night, and thou didst see him?”
“Not only I, but the policeman.”
Asarhadon brought down the first servant, and commandedeach to repeat his story. They repeated the stories faithfully, with the utmost conviction. It appeared then that Phut of Harran had remained all night at the “Green Star” without leaving the place for a moment; at the same time he went to the temple of Set, and did not return from it.
“Oh,” muttered Asarhadon, “in all this there is some very great villany. I must inform the elders of the Phœnician society, as quickly as possible, that this Hittite knows how to be in two places at once. I shall also beg him to move out of my inn. I do not take people who have two forms,—one their own, the other in supply. For a man of that kind is a great criminal, a wizard, or a conspirator.”
Asarhadon was afraid of such things; so he secured himself against enchantment by prayers to all the gods which adorned his inn. Then he hurried to the city, where he notified the elder of the Phœnician society and the elder of the guild of thieves of what had happened. Then, returning home, he summoned the decurion of police, and informed him that Phut might be a dangerous person. Finally he asked the man of Harran to leave the inn, to which he brought no profit, nothing but loss and suspicion.
Phut agreed to the proposition willingly, and informed the innkeeper that he intended to sail for Thebes that same evening.
“May thou never return!” thought the hospitable host. “May thou rot in the quarries, or fall into the river to be eaten by crocodiles.”
PRINCE Rameses began his journey in the most beautiful season of the year, during the month Phamenoth (end of December and beginning of January). The river had fallen to half its height, laying bare new strips of land day by day. From Thebes many barges with wheat were sailing down toward the sea; in Lower Egypt clover and beans had been harvested. Orange and pomegranate trees were covered with blossoms; in the fields earth-tillers had sown lupines, flax,barley, and had planted various beans, cucumbers, and other garden products.
Escorted to the landing of Memphis by priests, the highest dignitaries of the state, the guards of his holiness the pharaoh, the heir entered a gilded barge about ten in the morning. Under the bridge, on which were costly tents, twenty soldiers worked the oars, at the mast and at both ends of the boat the best naval engineers had taken their places. Some looked after the sails, others commanded the rowers, while still others steered the vessel.
Rameses had invited to his boat the most worthy high priest Mefres and the holy father Mentezufis, who were to be with him on the journey and in governing. The prince had invited also the worthy nomarch of Memphis, who conducted him to the boundary of his province.
Some hundreds of yards in front of the viceroy sailed the beautiful boat of the worthy Otoes, nomarch of Aa, a province adjoining the capital. Behind the prince came countless barges occupied by the court, by priests, by officials and officers.
Provisions and servants had been despatched earlier.
The Nile flows to Memphis between two lines of mountains. Farther the mountains turn eastward and westward, and the river divides into a number of arms in which the water flows through a broad plain to the Mediterranean.
When the barge had pushed away from the landing, the prince wished to converse with Mefres, the high priest. But at that moment such a shout broke forth that he was forced to leave his tent and show himself to the people.
The uproar grew greater, however, instead of subsiding. On both shores stood and increased every moment throngs of half-naked laborers, or people of the city dressed in holiday garments. Very many had garlands on their heads, almost all held green branches in their hands. Some groups sang; among others were heard the beating of drums and the sound of flutes.
Well-sweeps planted thickly along the river with buckets stood idle, but on the Nile circled a swarm of small boats, the occupants of which cast flowers at the barge of the viceroy. Some of them sprang into the water and swam after the vessel.
“They greet me as they would his holiness,” thought the viceroy.
And great pride possessed his heart at sight of so many stately barges which he could detain at one sweep of the hand, and those thousands who had left their occupations and ran the risk even of death just to see his divine countenance.
Rameses was delighted, especially by that immense shout which rose from the people without ceasing for an instant. That shout filled his breast, rose to his head, exalted him. It seemed to the prince that if he should spring from the barge he would not touch water, for the enthusiasm of the multitude would seize him and bear him aloft above the earth, as a bird is borne in flying.
The barge approached the left bank somewhat; the forms of people were outlined more clearly, and the prince saw something which he had not expected. While persons in the first ranks were clapping their hands and singing, in farther ones clubs were visible falling thickly and swiftly on backs that were hidden.
The astonished heir turned to the nomarch of Memphis.
“But look, worthiness, sticks are at work there.”
The nomarch shaded his eyes with his hand, his neck became red. “Pardon, most worthy prince, but I see badly.”
“They are beating—surely they are beating!”
“That is possible,” answered the nomarch. “Undoubtedly the priests have caught a band of thieves there.”
Not over-pleased with this conversation, the heir went toward the stern to the engineers, who turned the barge suddenly toward the middle of the river, and from that point he looked back at Memphis.
Both banks higher up the Nile were almost deserted, the boats had disappeared, the well-sweeps were moving as if nothing had happened.
“Is the solemnity over?” inquired the prince of an engineer, pointing to a higher place on the river.
“It is. The people have returned to their work,” said the engineer.
“Very quickly.”
“They must recover lost time,” said the engineer, incautiously.
The heir quivered, and looked at the man sharply. But he calmed himself soon and returned to the tent. For him shouts were of no further interest. He was gloomy and silent. After an outburst of pride, he felt contempt for that throng which passed so promptly from enthusiasm to well-sweeps and baling up muddy water.
At that point the Nile begins to separate into branches. The barge of the chief of Aa turned toward the west, sailed an hour, and stopped at the river bank. The crowds were still greater than at Memphis. A multitude of pillars had been set up with banners and triumphal arches entwined with green garlands. Among the people foreign faces and garments were more and more frequent.
When the prince landed, the priests approached with a baldachin, and the worthy nomarch Otoes began,—
“Be greeted, viceroy of the divine pharaoh, within the borders of Aa. As a sign of thy favor, which for us is as heavenly dew, be pleased to make an offering to the god Ptah, who is our patron, and take under thy protection and control this province, with its temples, officials, people, cattle, grain, and all that is here existent.”
Then he presented a group of young exquisites, fragrant, rouged, arrayed in gold-embroidered garments. Those were the remoter and nearer relatives of the nomarch, the local aristocracy.
Rameses looked at them with attention.
“Aha!” said he. “It seemed to me that these gentlemen lacked something, and now I see what it is,—they have no wigs.”
“Because thou, most worthy prince, dost not wear wigs, our young men have vowed not to wear them,” replied the nomarch.
After this explanation one of the young men stood behind the prince with a fan, another with a shield, a third with a dart, and the procession began. The heir walked under the baldachin, before him a priest with a tube in which incense was burning; there were maidens also who scattered roses on the path over which the prince was to travel.
The people in holiday garments, with branches in their hands, formed a line and shouted; they sang songs, or prostratedthemselves before the lieutenant of the pharaoh. But the prince saw that in spite of the loud sounds of joy their faces were unenlivened and anxious. He saw also that the crowd was divided into groups which people of some sort were directing, and that the rejoicing took place by command. And again he felt in his heart a chill of contempt for that throng which knew not how to rejoice even.
Gradually the retinue approached the walled column which indicated the boundary between Aa and Memphis. On three sides of the column were inscriptions describing the extent of the province, its population, and the number of its cities; on the fourth side was a statue of Ptah, surrounded from foot to breast with an envelope; he had the usual cap on his head and a staff in his hand.
One of the priests gave the prince a golden spoon with burning incense. The heir uttered prescribed prayers, whirled the censer to the height of the divinity’s head, and bowed low a number of times in succession.
The shouts of the people and of the priests rose ever higher, though among youthful exquisites smiles and jests were observable. Since his reconciliation with Herhor the prince had shown great respect for gods and priests; so he frowned somewhat. In one moment the young men changed their bearing. All became serious, while some fell on their faces before the column.
“Indeed,” thought the prince, “people of noble birth are better than that rabble. Whatever nobles do they do it with spirit, not like those who make an uproar in my honor but are glad to hurry back to their workshops and stables.”
Now he measured better than ever the distance between him and the lowest people, and he understood that the aristocracy was the only class to which he was bound by a community of feeling. If suddenly they should vanish, those stately young men and beautiful women whose flashing glances followed every one of his movements, so as to serve him straightway and carry out his orders,—if they should vanish, the prince would feel more alone among the countless throngs of people than in a desert.
Eight negroes brought a litter adorned above the baldachinwith ostrich feathers; the prince took his place in it, and advanced to the capital of Sochem, where he dwelt in a government palace.
The prince’s stay in that province, which was only a few miles from Memphis, lasted a month. All this time he passed in receiving petitions, in accepting homage, in official receptions, and at feasts.
The feasts were of two kinds,—one in the palace, at which the aristocracy were present; the other in the outer court, where whole oxen were roasted, loaves of bread were eaten by the hundred, and hundreds of pitchers of beer drunk. At these appeared servants of the prince and the lower officials of the province.
Rameses admired the munificence of the nomarch, and the affection of the great lords around him, alert to every beck of his and ready to carry out his orders.
Wearied at last by amusements, Rameses declared to the worthy Otoes that he wished to become more nearly acquainted with the management of the province, for he had received a command from his holiness the pharaoh to study it.
His desire was satisfied. The nomarch requested the prince to sit in a litter borne by only two men, and with a great retinue escorted him to the temple of Hator. There the retinue remained in the antechamber, but the nomarch commanded the bearers to carry the prince to the summit of a pylon, which he himself ascended.
From the summit of a tower, ninety feet high, whence priests observed the sky and communicated through colored flags with the neighboring temples in Memphis, Atribis, and Anu, the eye surveyed in the radius of some miles almost a whole province.
From that place, too, the worthy Otoes showed Rameses the fields and vineyards of the pharaoh; he showed what canal they were clearing, what sluice they were repairing; he showed furnaces for smelting copper; he showed where the royal granaries stood, where the lotus and papyrus swamps were, what fields were covered with sand, and so on till he had finished.
Rameses was charmed with the beautiful view, and thanked Otoes warmly for the pleasure which he experienced. But whenhe returned to the palace, and, according to the advice of the pharaoh, noted impressions, he convinced himself that his knowledge of the economic conditions of Aa had not widened.
After some days he asked explanations again of Otoes touching the administration of the province. The worthy lord commanded all the officials to assemble and pass before the prince, who sat in the main court on an elevation.
Before the viceroy moved great and petty treasurers; scribes of grain, wine, cattle, woollen stuffs; chief masons, ditch diggers, naval and land engineers, healers of various diseases, officers over regiments of laborers, police scribes, judges, inspectors of prisons, even executioners and dissectors. After them the worthy nomarch presented the prince’s own officials in that province to him. Rameses learned therefore, with no small astonishment, that in Aa and in the city of Sochem he had his own personal charioteer, torch-bearer, shield-bearer, dart-bearer, mace-bearer, some tens of litter-bearers, a number of cooks, cup-bearers, barbers, and many other servitors distinguished for attachment and faithfulness, though he had not even heard their names and did not know them.
Tortured and tired by a barren review of officials, the prince’s courage fell. He was terrified by the thought that he understood nothing, hence was unfitted to rule; but he feared to confess this even to himself.
If Rameses could not rule Egypt, and others were able to rule it, what remained to him? Nothing but death. Without the throne he could have no happiness. He felt that for him life would be impossible unless he had power.
But when he had rested a few days, in so far as rest was attainable in that chaos of court life, he summoned Otoes, and said to him,—
“Worthiness, I have begged thee to acquaint me with the secret of governing Aa. Thou hast done so, thou hast shown me the country and the officials, but still I know nothing. On the contrary. I am like a man in the underground divisions of a temple who sees so many passages about him that he is unable at last to find his way out into daylight.”
The nomarch was confused.
“What am I to do?” asked he. “What dost thou wish ofme, O ruler? Only say the word and I will yield to thee office, property, even life.”
And, seeing that the prince received this assurance with graciousness, he continued,—
“During thy journey thou hast seen the people of this province. Thou wilt say that all were not present. Agreed. I will command all to assemble, and they are, men, women, old men, and children, about two hundred thousand. From the summit of the pylon thou wert pleased to survey our whole province. But if it be thy wish, we can examine from near by every field, every village, and every street of the city of Sochem. Finally I have shown thee the officials; it is true, the very lowest were absent. But command and all will stand before thee to-morrow and fall on their faces. What am I to do more? Tell me, most worthy lord.”
“I believe that thou art most faithful,” answered Rameses. “Therefore explain to me two things: first, why has the income of his holiness diminished? second, what art thou doing thyself in the province?”
Otoes was confused, and the prince added quickly,—
“I wish to know what thou art doing here, and by what methods, since I am young and only commencing to govern.”
“Thou hast the wisdom of a century,” whispered the nomarch.
“Therefore it is proper,” continued the prince, “that I should ask men of experience and that thou shouldst give me knowledge.”
“I will show thee all, and give every explanation,” said Otoes. “But we should go to a place where there is no uproar.”
In fact, in the palace which the prince occupied as many people thronged in the inner and outer court as at a fair. They ate, drank, sang, raced or rested, and all this to enhance the glory of the viceroy whom they were serving.
About three in the afternoon, the nomarch gave command to bring two horses, and with the prince he rode forth from the city westward. The court remained in the palace and amused itself with still greater gladness.
The day was beautiful, cool; the earth was covered withplants and flowers. Over the heads of the horsemen were heard the songs of birds, the air was full of fragrance.
“How pleasant it is here!” exclaimed Rameses. “Now I am able to collect my thoughts for the first time in a month. I had begun to think that a whole regiment of chariots had assembled in my head, and that from morning till evening reviews were held there.”
“Such is the fate of a ruler in this world,” said the nomarch.
They halted on an eminence. At their feet lay an immense meadow, cut through by a blue stream. On the north and on the south were white walls of towns; beyond the meadow on the rim of the horizon extended the reddish sands of the western desert, from which came an occasional breath of heated air, as if from a furnace.
On the meadow were countless herds of animals,—horned and hornless oxen, sheep, goats, asses, antelopes, even rhinoceroses.
Here and there were visible swampy places covered with water plants and reeds in which were teeming wild geese, ducks, doves, storks, pelicans, and ibises.
“Behold, lord,” said Otoes, “a picture of our country, Queneh, Egypt. Osiris fell in love with this strip of land in the midst of deserts; he covered it with plants and living creatures, so as to have from them profit. Then the kindly god took a human form and became the first pharaoh. When he felt that his body was withering, he left it and entered into his son, and later on into his son’s son.
“Thus Osiris lives among us, since the beginning of ages, as pharaoh, and he gains profit from Egypt and its wealth which he himself created. The lord has extended like a mighty tree. All the pharaohs are his roots, the nomarchs and priests his larger branches, the nobles the smaller branches. The visible god sits on the throne of the earth and receives the income which belongs to him from Egypt; the invisible god receives offerings in the temples, and declares his will through the lips of the priesthood.”
“Thou utterest truth,” said the viceroy. “Thus is it written.”
“Since Osiris the pharaoh,” continued the nomarch, “cannot himself be occupied in the management of the country, hehas appointed us nomarchs, who come of his blood, to watch over his property.”
“That is true,” said Rameses. “Sometimes even the sun god becomes incarnate in a nomarch and begins a new dynasty. Thus rose the dynasties of Memphis, Elephantina, Thebes, and Ksoi.”
“Thou hast said it,” continued Otoes. “But now I will answer that which thou hast asked of me.
“Thou hast asked what I do in this province? I guard the property of Osiris, the pharaoh, and my own part in it. Look at those flocks; thou seest various animals. Some give milk, others flesh, others wool and skins. The people of Egypt give wheat, wine, woollen stuffs, vessels, houses. My affair is to take from each what he should give, and lay it down at the feet of the pharaoh.
“In watching over the numerous herds I could not succeed alone; so I have chosen watchful dogs and wise shepherds. Some of my servants milk animals, shear them, remove their skins; others watch them so that thieves may not steal or the plunderer injure. So with the province. I could not collect all the taxes and guard men from evil; hence I have officials who do what is proper, and render account of their action—”
“All this is true,” interrupted the prince. “I know and understand what thou sayest. But I cannot comprehend why the income of his holiness decreases, though guarded well, as thou hast told me.”
“Be pleased to remember,” continued the nomarch, “that Set, though a full brother of the radiant Osiris, hates that god, wars with him, and deforms all his labors. He sends deadly diseases on beasts and on men; he causes the overflow of the Nile to be scant or over-violent, and he hurls clouds of sand in time of heat upon Egypt.
“When a year is good, the Nile reaches the desert; when it is bad, the desert comes down to the Nile, and then the royal income decreases.
“Look!” continued he, pointing at the meadow. “The flocks there are numerous, but in my youth they were greater in number. But who is the cause of this? No other than Set, whom human power cannot vanquish. This meadow, greatto-day, was once greater, and from this spot they could not see the desert, which now is a terror.
“When the gods are battling, men can do nothing; where Set conquers Osiris, who can bar the way to him?”
The worthy Otoes finished; the prince hung his head. In school he had heard not a little about the love of Osiris and the malice of Set, and while still a child he was angry that no one had forced Set to a final reckoning.
“When I grow up,” thought he at that time, “and carry a javelin, I will seek out Set and we will make a trial.”
And he was looking now at that measureless sand space, that kingdom of the ominous godhead which was decreasing the income of Egypt; but he had no thought to do battle with Set. For how can man fight with the desert? Man can only avoid it or perish.
HIS stay in Aa had so wearied Rameses that to seek rest and rally his thoughts he commanded to stop all solemnities in his honor, and directed that during his journey people should never come forth to greet him.
The prince’s retinue were astonished, even somewhat offended; but they carried out the command, and Rameses again found some quiet. He had time to review his troops, which was his most agreeable occupation, and he could collect his scattered thoughts in some measure.
Shut up in the remotest corner of the palace, the prince began to consider how far he had carried out the commands of the pharaoh his father.
He had surveyed Aa with his own eyes,—its fields, towns, population, officials. He had verified the fact that the eastern edge of the province was yielding to the advance of the desert. He had observed that laborers were indifferent and stupid; that they did only what was commanded, and that with unwillingness. Finally, he had convinced himself that really faithful and loving subjects were to be found only among the aristocracy, for they were related to the family of the pharaohs, orwere of the noble order, and were grandsons of the men who had fought under the great Rameses.
In every case those people rallied to the dynasty heartily, and were ready to serve it with genuine readiness; not like the low people, who when they had shouted a greeting ran back with all speed to their pigs and their oxen.
But the chief object of his mission was not explained yet. Rameses not only did not see clearly causes for the decrease of the royal income, but he did not know how to formulate this question: Why is there evil, and how can we correct it? He only felt that the legendary war of the god Set with Osiris furnished no true explanation, and gave no means of cure whatever.
But the prince, as the coming pharaoh, wished to have a great income, like that of former rulers in Egypt. He was boiling with anger at the very thought that when he had mounted the throne he would be as poor as his father and perhaps even poorer.
“Never!” cried the prince, balling his fists.
To increase the royal property he was ready to rush sword in hand against Set and hew that god into pieces, as Set had hewn his own brother Osiris. But instead of the cruel divinity and his legions he saw around him ignorance, the desert, and silence.
Under the influence of these struggles with his own thoughts, he seized once the high priest Mefres.
“Tell me, holy father, to whom all wisdom is familiar, why does the income of the state decrease, and in what manner can we add to it?”
Mefres raised his hands.
“May the spirit be blessed, worthy lord,” cried the priest, “which whispered such thoughts to thee. Oh, mayest thou follow in the steps of mighty pharaohs who built temples in all parts of Egypt, and through canals and sluices increased the area of fertile land in this country.”
The old man was so moved that he fell to weeping.
“First of all,” said the prince, “answer what I ask; for how think of temples and canals when the treasury is empty? The greatest misfortune has befallen Egypt: its rulers arethreatened with indigence. We must examine this, first of all, and cure it; after that the rest will come easily.”
“This, prince, thou wilt learn only in temples, at the foot of the altar,” said the high priest. “There alone can thy noble curiosity be pacified.”
Rameses started up with impatience.
“Before thy eyes, worthy father, the temple hides the whole country, even the treasury of the pharaoh. I am, for that matter, a priestly pupil. I was reared in the shadow of a temple, I know the secret of the spectacles in which the malice of Set is represented, with the death and re-birth of Osiris, and what does that profit me? When my father asks how to replenish the treasury, I can give him no answer. Should I persuade him to pray longer and oftener than he does at the present?”
“Prince, thou art blaspheming, thou knowest not the high ceremonies of religion. If thou knew them thou couldst answer many questions which torment thee; and hadst thou seen that which I have, thou wouldst know that the highest interest of Egypt is to support priests and temples.”
“Men in old age become children,” thought Rameses; and he stopped the conversation.
Mefres had been very pious at all times, but he had then grown eccentric.
“I should end well,” thought Rameses, “if I yielded to priests and assisted at puerile ceremonies. Perhaps Mefres would even command me to stand for whole hours at an altar, as he himself does, beyond doubt, while expecting a miracle.”
In the month Pharmuthi (end of January and beginning of February) the prince took leave of Otoes, before starting for Hak, the next province. He thanked the nomarchs and lords for their splendid reception, but at heart he was sad, for he knew that he had not mastered the problem put forth by his father.
Escorted by the family and court of Otoes, the prince with his retinue crossed to the right bank of the river, where he was greeted by Ranuzer, the worthy nomarch, together with the lords and the priests of his province.
When the prince reached the land of Hak, the priests raiseda statue of Atmu, patron god of the province, and the officials fell prostrate; then the nomarch brought a golden sickle to Rameses, and begged him to open the harvest as viceroy of the pharaoh, that being the time to gather in barley.
Rameses took the sickle, cut a couple of handfuls of ears, and burnt them with incense before the god the guardian of the boundaries. After him the nomarch and the great lords cut barley also, and at last harvesters fell to reaping. They cut only ears, which they packed into bags; the straw remained on the field behind them.
When he had heard a tedious service before the god, the prince mounted a two-wheeled car, a division of the army moved on, and the priests followed. Two lords led the horses of the heir by the bridles. After the heir, on a second car, rode the nomarch, and next an immense train of lords and court servitors. The people, agreeable to the will of Rameses, did not present themselves, but laborers in the fields, at sight of the procession, fell on their faces.
In this manner when he had passed a number of pontoon bridges thrown over arms of the Nile and canals, the prince reached toward evening the city of Anu, the capital.
For some days feasts of greeting continued; they rendered homage to the heir, and presented officials. At last Rameses begged to interrupt the festivities, and requested the nomarch to acquaint him with the wealth of the province.
Next morning the review began, and lasted a fortnight. Every day in the court of that palace where the heir had his residence appeared various guilds of craftsmen. These came under command of guild officers, to exhibit their productions. In turn came armorers and swordsmiths, makers of spears and axes, manufacturers of musical instruments,—fifes, trumpets, drums, harps. After these came the great guild of cabinetmakers, who exhibited armchairs, tables, couches, litters, and carriages, ornamented with rich drawings, made of various wood, mother-of-pearl, and ivory; then they brought kitchen utensils, things for the fire,—spits, two-eared pots, and flat pans with covers; jewellers rivalled one another with gold rings of wonderful beauty, amber bracelets and anklets, or chains made of gold mixed with silver. All these were carved withartistic skill, and inlaid with precious stones or enamel of various colors.
The procession was closed by potters who carried more than a hundred kinds of earthen vessels. They brought vases, pots, plates, pitchers, and jugs of the most varied forms and sizes, covered with paintings ornamented with beast and bird heads.
Each guild made an offering to the prince of its most beautiful productions. These filled a large hall, though among them no two things were similar.
At the end of the curious but interesting exhibition, his worthiness Ranuzer asked the prince if he was satisfied.
The heir thought awhile.
“More beautiful things I have not seen except in the temples or in the palaces of my father. But since only rich people can buy them, I do not see how the state treasury can have much profit from those objects.”
The nomarch was astonished at the young lord’s indifference, and was alarmed by his anxiety about income; but wishing to satisfy Rameses, he began then to conduct him through the royal factories.
One day they went to buildings where slaves were grinding flour in many hundred hand-mills and in mortars. They went to bakeries where men were baking bread and rusks to feed the army, and to places where preserved fish and meat were in course of preparation. They examined great tanneries, and shops where sandals were made, foundries where copper was cast into arms and utensils. After that, brickyards, guilds of weavers and tailors.
These establishments were situated in the eastern part of the city. Rameses at first looked at them with interest, but very soon he was disgusted with the sight of laborers who were timid, lean, sickly in complexion, and who had scars left by sticks on their shoulders. Thenceforth he stopped only briefly at factories. He preferred to look at the environs of the city of Anu. Far to the east he could see the desert where a year earlier the manœuvres had taken place between his corps and Nitager’s. He saw, like a thing on the palm of his hand, the road by which his regiments had marched, the place where because of the beetles the military engines had to turn to thedesert, and perhaps even the tree on which the canal digger had hanged himself.
From that elevation over there in company with Tutmosis he had looked at the blooming land of Goshen and cursed the priesthood. And there among the hills he had met Sarah, toward whom his heart had flamed up on a sudden.
To-day what changes! He had ceased to hate the priests from the hour that by the influence of Herhor he had received the army corps and the office of viceroy. He had become indifferent to Sarah, but that child whose mother she would be grew to him more and more important.
“What is she doing there?” thought the prince. “I have not had news from her this long time.”
While he was looking on those eastern hills in this way, and thinking of the recent past, Ranuzer at the head of his escort felt certain that the prince had observed abuses in the factories and was meditating over means of punishment.
“I am curious to know what he discovered,” thought the worthy nomarch. “Is it that half the bricks are sold to the Phœnicians, or that ten thousand sandals are lacking in the factory, or perhaps some low wretch has whispered to him about the foundries?”
And the nomarch’s heart was anxious.
Suddenly the prince turned toward the escort and called Tutmosis, who was bound to be at all times near his person.
Tutmosis ran up. The heir went to one side with him.
“Hear me,” said he, pointing toward the desert. “Dost thou see those hills?”
“We were there last year,” sighed the courtier.
“I remember Sarah.”
“I will burn incense to the gods at once,” cried Tutmosis, “for I thought that your worthiness had forgotten faithful servants since becoming viceroy.”
The prince looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.
“Select,” said he, “from the gifts brought me, some of the most beautiful vessels, utensils, stuffs, and, above all, chains and bracelets, and take them to Sarah.”
“Live through eternity, O Rameses!” exclaimed the exquisite, “for thou art high-minded.”
“Tell her,” continued the prince, “that for her my heart is always full of favor. Say that I wish her to care for her health. Tell Sarah that when the time of freedom comes and I have carried out the commands of my father, she will come to me and live in my house. I cannot endure that the mother of my child should be grieving in loneliness. Go, do as I have said, and return with pleasant tidings.”