{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16583/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16583","id":"gutenberg_16583","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16583","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. Old Testament -- History of Biblical events -- Fiction","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Romance","Egypt -- Civilization -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction","Jews -- History -- To 1200 B.C. -- Fiction","Moses (Biblical leader) -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Al Haines\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE YOKE\n\nA ROMANCE OF THE DAYS WHEN THE LORD REDEEMED THE CHILDREN OF ISRAEL\nFROM THE BONDAGE OF EGYPT\n\n\nBY\n\nELIZABETH MILLER\n\n\n\n\nGROSSET & DUNLAP\n\nPublishers  -:-  New York\n\n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1904\n\nTHE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY\n\n\nJANUARY\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nPERCY MILLER\n\nMY BROTHER\n\nWHO CONSTRUCTED\n\nTHE PLOT\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER\n\n       I  CHOOSING THE TENS\n      II  UNDER BAN OF THE RITUAL\n     III  THE MESSENGER\n      IV  THE PROCESSION OF AMEN\n       V  THE HEIR TO THE THRONE\n      VI  THE LADY MIRIAM\n     VII  ATHOR, THE GOLDEN\n    VIII  THE PUNISHMENT OF ATSU\n      IX  THE COLLAR OF GOLD\n       X  THE DEBT OF ISRAEL\n      XI  HEBREW CRAFT\n     XII  CANAAN\n    XIII  THE COMING OF THE PHARAOH\n     XIV  THE MARGIN OF THE NILE\n      XV  THE GODS OF EGYPT\n     XVI  THE ADVICE OF HOTEP\n    XVII  THE SON OF THE MURKET\n   XVIII  AT MASAARAH\n     XIX  IN THE DESERT\n      XX  THE TREASURE CAVE\n     XXI  ON THE WAY TO THEBES\n    XXII  THE FAN-BEARER'S GUEST\n   XXIII  THE TOMB OF THE PHARAOH\n    XXIV  THE PETITION\n     XXV  THE LOVE OF RAMESES\n    XXVI  FURTHER DIPLOMACY\n   XXVII  THE HEIR INTERVENES\n  XXVIII  THE IDOLS CRUMBLE\n    XXIX  THE PLAGUES\n     XXX  HE HARDENED HIS HEART\n    XXXI  THE CONSPIRACY\n   XXXII  RACHEL'S REFUGE\n  XXXIII  BACK TO MEMPHIS\n   XXXIV  NIGHT\n    XXXV  LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS\n   XXXVI  THE MURKET'S SACRIFICE\n  XXXVII  AT THE WELL\n XXXVIII  THE TRAITORS\n   XXXIX  BEFORE EGYPT'S THRONE\n      XL  THE FIRST-BORN\n     XLI  THE ANGEL OF DEATH\n    XLII  EXPATRIATION\n   XLIII  \"THE PHARAOH DREW NIGH\"\n    XLIV  THE WAY TO THE SEA\n     XLV  THROUGH THE RED SEA\n    XLVI  WHOM THE LADY MIRIAM SENT\n   XLVII  THE PROMISED LAND\n\n\n\n\nTHE YOKE\n\nA STORY OF THE EXODUS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nCHOOSING THE TENS\n\nNear the eastern boundary of that level region of northern Egypt, known\nas the Delta, once thridded by seven branches of the sea-hunting Nile,\nRameses II, in the fourteenth century B. C., erected the city of Pithom\nand stored his treasure therein.  His riches overtaxed its coffers and\nhe builded Pa-Ramesu, in part, to hold the overflow.  But he died\nbefore the work was completed by half, and his fourteenth son and\nsuccessor, Meneptah, took it up and pushed it with the nomad\nbond-people that dwelt in the Delta.\n\nThe city was laid out near the center of Goshen, a long strip of\nfertile country given over to the Israelites since the days of the\nHyksos king, Apepa, near the year 1800 B. C.\n\nMorning in the land of the Hebrew dawned over level fields, green with\nunripe wheat and meadow grass.  Wherever the soil was better for\ngrazing great flocks of sheep moved in compact clouds, with a lank dog\nand an ancient shepherd following them.\n\nThe low, shapeless tents and thatched hovels of the Israelites stood in\nthe center of gardens of lentils, garlic and lettuce, securely hedged\nagainst the inroads of hares and roving cattle.  Close to these were\ncompounds for the flocks and brush inclosures for geese, and cotes for\nthe pigeons used in sacrifice.  Here dwelt the aged in trusteeship over\nthe land, while the young and sturdy builded Pa-Ramesu.\n\nSunrise on the uncompleted city tipped the raw lines of her half-built\nwalls with broken fire and gilded the gear of gigantic hoisting cranes.\nScaffolding, clinging to bald facades, seemed frail and cobwebby at\ngreat height, and slabs of stone, drawn and held by cables near the\nsummit of chutes, looked like dice on the giddy slide.\n\nBelow in the still shadowy passages and interiors, speckled with fallen\nmortar, lay chains, rubble of brick and chipped stone; splinters,\nflinders and odd ends of timber; scraps of metal, broken implements and\nthe what-not that litters the path of construction.  Without, in the\navenues, vaguely outlined by the slowly rising structures on either\nside, were low-riding, long, heavy, dwarf-wheeled vehicles and sledges\nto which men, not beasts, had been harnessed.  Here, also, were great\ncords of new brick and avalanches of glazed tile where disaster had\novertaken orderly stacks of this multi-tinted material.  In the open\nspaces were covered heaps of sand, and tons of lime, in sacks; layers\nof paint and hogsheads of tar; ingots of copper and pigs of bronze.\nRoadways, beaten in the dust by a multitude of bare feet, led in a\nhundred directions, all merging in one great track toward the camp of\nthe laboring Israelites.\n\nThis was pitched in a vast open in the city's center, wherein Rameses\nII had planned to build a second Karnak to Imhotep.  Under the gracious\nfavor of this, the physician god, the great Pharaoh had regained his\nsight.  But death stayed his grateful hand and Meneptah forgot his\nfather's debt.  Here, then, year in and year out, an angular sea of low\ntents sheltered Israel.\n\nLet it not be supposed that all the sons of Abraham were here.\nThousands labored yet in the perfection of Pithom, on the highways of\nthe Lower country, and on the Rameside canal, and the greater number\nmade the brick for all Egypt in the clay-fields of the Delta.\nTherefore, within the walls of Pa-Ramesu there were somewhat more than\nthree thousand Hebrews, men, women and children.\n\nOn a slight eminence, overlooking the camp, were numerous small\nstructures of sun-dried brick, grouped about one of larger dimensions.\nAbove this was raised a military standard, a hawk upon a cross-bar,\nfrom which hung party-colored tassels of linen floss.  By this sign,\nthe order of government was denoted.  The Hebrews were under martial\nlaw.\n\nThe camp was astir.  Thin columns of blue smoke drifted up here and\nthere between the close-set tents, and the sibilant wearing of\nstone-mills, as they ground the wheat, was heard in many households.\nThe nutty aroma of parching lentils, and the savor of roasting papyrus\nroot and garlic told the stage of the morning meal.  The strong-armed\nwomen, rich brown in tint from the ardent sun, crowned with coil upon\ncoil of heavy hair, bent over the pungent fires.  Sturdy children,\ninnocent of raiment, went hither and thither, bearing well filled skins\nof water.  Apart from these were the men of Israel, bearded and grave,\nstalwart and scantily clad.  They repaired a cable or fitted an\nax-handle or mended a hoe.  But they were full of serious and absorbed\ndiscourse, for the great Hebrew, Moses, from the sheep-ranges of\nMidian, had been among them, showing them marvels of sorcery, preaching\nJehovah and promising freedom.  The first high white light of dawn was\nbreaking upon the century-long night of Israel.\n\nBefore one of the tents an old woman knelt beside a bed of live coals,\nturning a browning water-fowl upon a pointed stick.  She was a\nconsummate cook, and the bird was fat and securely trussed.  Now and\nagain she sprinkled a pinch of crude salt on the embers to suppress the\nodor of the burning drippings, and lifted the fowl out of the reach of\nthe pale flames that leaped up thereafter.  Presently she removed the\nfowl and forked it off the spit into a capacious earthenware bowl near\nby.  Then, with green withes as tongs, she drew forth a round tile from\nunder the coals and set it over the dish to complete the baking.  From\nanother tile-platter at hand she took several round slices of durra\nbread and proceeded to toast them with much skill, tilting the hot tile\nand casting each browned slice in on the fowl as it was done.  When she\nhad finished, she removed the cover and set the bowl on the large\nplatter, protecting her hands from its heat with a fold of her habit.\nWith no little triumph and some difficulty she got upon her feet and\ncarried the toothsome dish into her shelter, to place it beyond the\nreach of stealthy hands.  No such meal was cooked that morning,\nelsewhere, in Pa-Ramesu, except at the military headquarters on the\nknoll.\n\nThere was little inside the tent, except the meagerest essential\nfurnishing.  A long amphora stood in a tamarisk rack in one corner; a\nlinen napkin hung, pinned to the tent-cloth, over it; a glazed laver\nand a small box sat beside it.  A mat of braided reeds, the handiwork\nof the old Israelite, covered the naked earth.  This served as seat or\ntable for the occupants.  Several wisps of straw were scattered about\nand a heap of it, over which a cotton cloak had been thrown, lay in one\ncorner.\n\n\"Rachel,\" the old woman said briskly.\n\nEvidently some one slept under the straw, for the heap stirred.\n\n\"Rachel!\" the old woman reiterated, drawing off the cloak.\n\nWithout any preliminary pushing away of the straw, a young girl sat up.\nA little bewildered, she divested her head and shoulders of a frowsy\nstraw thatch and stood erect, shaking it off from her single short\ngarment.\n\nShe was not more than sixteen years old.  Above medium height and of\nnobler proportions than the typical woman of the race, her figure was\nremarkable for its symmetry and utter grace.  The stamp of the\ncountenance was purely Semitic, except that she was distinguished, most\nwondrously in color, from her kind.  Her sleep had left its exquisite\nheaviness on eyes of the tenderest blue, and the luxuriant hair she\npushed back from her face was a fleece of gold.  Hers was that rare\ncomplexion that does not tan.  The sun but brightened her hair and\nwrought the hue of health in her cheeks.  Her forehead was low, broad,\nand white as marble; her neck and arms white, and the hands, busied\nwith the hair, were strong, soft, dimpled and white.  The grace of her\nwomanhood had not been overcome by the slave-labor, which she had known\nfrom infancy.\n\n\"Good morning, Deborah.  Why--thy bed--have I slept under it?\" she\nasked.\n\n\"Since the middle of the last watch,\" the old woman assented.\n\n\"But why?  Did Merenra come?\" the girl inquired anxiously.\n\n\"Nay; but I heard some one ere the camp was astir and I covered thee.\"\n\n\"And thou hast had no sleep since,\" the girl said, with regret in her\nvoice.  \"Thou dost reproach me with thy goodness, Deborah.\"\n\nShe went to the amphora and poured water into the laver, drew forth\nfrom the box a horn comb and a vial of powdered soda from the Natron\nLakes, and proceeded with her toilet.\n\n\"Came some one, of a truth?\" she asked presently.\n\nDeborah pointed to the smoking bowl.  Rachel inspected the fowl.\n\n\"Marsh-hen!\" she cried in surprise.\n\n\"Atsu brought it.\"\n\n\"Atsu?\"\n\n\"Even so.  From his own bounty and for Rachel,\" Deborah explained.\n\nRachel smiled.\n\n\"Thou art beset from a new direction,\" the old woman continued dryly,\n\"but thou hast naught to fear from him.\"\n\n\"Nay; I know,\" Rachel murmured, arranging her dress.\n\nThe garb of the average bondwoman was of startling simplicity.  It\nconsisted of two pieces of stuff little wider than the greatest width\nof the wearer's body, tied by the corners over each shoulder, belted at\nthe waist with a thong and laced together with fiber at the sides, from\nthe hips to a point just above the knee.  It was open above and below\nthis simple seam and interfered not at all with the freedom of the\nwearer's movements.  But Rachel's habit was a voluminous surplice,\nfitting closely at the neck, supplied with wide sleeves, seamed, hemmed\nand of ample length.  Deborah was literally swathed in covering, with\nonly her withered face and hands exposed.  There was a hint of rank in\ntheir superior dress and more than a suggestion of blood in the bearing\nof the pair; but they were laborers with the shepherds and\nserving-people of Israel.\n\n\"He would wed thee, after the manner of thy people, and take thee from\namong Israel,\" Deborah continued.\n\nThe girl drooped her head over the lacing of her habit and made no\nanswer.  The old woman looked at her sharply for a moment.\n\n\"Well, eat; Rachel, eat,\" she urged at last.  \"The marsh-hen will stand\nthee in good stead and thou hast a weary day before thee.\"\n\nRachel looked at the old woman and made mental comparison between the\nancient figure and her strong, young self.  With great deliberation she\ndivided the fowl into a large and small part.\n\n\"This,\" she said, extending the larger to Deborah, \"is thine.  Take\nit,\" waving aside the protests of the old woman, \"or the first taste of\nit will choke me.\"\n\nDeborah submitted duly and consumed the tender morsel while she watched\nRachel break her fast.\n\n\"What said Atsu?\" Rachel asked, after the marsh-hen was less apparent.\n\n\"Little, which is his way.  But his every word was worth a harangue in\nweight.  Merenra and his purple-wearing visitor, the spoiler, the\npompous wolf, departed for Pithom last night, hastily summoned thither\nby a royal message.  But the commander returns to-morrow at sunset.\nThis morning, every tenth Hebrew in Pa-Ramesu is to be chosen and sent\nto the quarries.  Atsu will send thee and me, whether we fall among the\ntens of a truth or not.  So we get out of the city ere Merenra returns.\nHe called the ruse a cruel one and not wholly safe, but he would sooner\nsee thee dead than despoiled by this guest of Merenra's--or any other.\nI doubt not his heart breaketh for thy sake, Rachel, and he would rend\nhimself to spare thee.\"\n\n\"The Lord God bless him,\" the girl murmured earnestly.\n\n\"Where dost thou say we go?\" she asked after a little silence.\n\n\"To the quarries of Masaarah, opposite Memphis.\"\n\nThe color in the young Israelite's face receded a little.\n\n\"To the quarries,\" she repeated in a half-whisper.\n\n\"Fearest thou?\"\n\n\"Nay, not for myself, at all, but we may not have another Atsu over us\nthere.  I fear for thee, Deborah.\"\n\nThe old woman waved her hands.\n\n\"Trouble not concerning me.  I shall not die by heavy labor.\"\n\nBut the girl shook her head and gazed out of the low entrance of the\ntent.  Her face was full of trouble.  Once again the old woman looked\nat her with suspicion in her eyes.  Presently the girl asked, coloring\npainfully:\n\n\"Was Atsu commanded to hold me for this guest of Merenra's--ah!\" she\nbroke off, \"did Atsu name him?\"\n\n\"Not by the titles by which the man would as lief be known,\" Deborah\nanswered grimly, \"but I remember he called him 'the governor.'\"\n\nThere was a brief pause.\n\n\"Not so,\" she resumed, answering Rachel's first question.  \"Atsu but\noverheard him say to Merenra to see to it that thou wast taken from\ntoil and made ready to journey with him to Bubastis.\"\n\n\"He can not take me by right save by a document of gift from the\nPharaoh,\" Rachel protested indignantly.\n\n\"Of a truth,\" the old woman admitted; \"but Merenra is chief commander\nover Pa-Ramesu and how shall thine appeal to the Pharaoh pass beyond\nMerenra if he see fit to humor this ravening lord with a breach of the\nlaw?  The message summoning him in haste to Pithom before the order\ncould be fulfilled was all that saved thee.  And if Merenra return ere\nthou art safely gone, thou art of a surety undone.\"\n\nRachel moved away a little and stood thinking.  The old woman went on\nwith a note of despondency in her voice.\n\n\"Alas, Rachel! thou art in eternal peril because of thy lovely face.\nBeauty is a curse to a bondwoman.  What I beheld in truth yesterday I\nhave seen in dreams--the discourteous hand put forth to seize thee and\nthe power back of it to enforce its demand.  And yet, I would not wish\nthee old and uncomely, for that, too, is a curse to the bondwoman,\" she\nadded with a reflective shrug of the shoulders.\n\n\"If I but knew his name--\" Rachel pondered aloud.\n\n\"What matter?\" the old woman answered almost roughly.  \"Suffice it to\nknow that he is a knave and a noble and hath evil in his heart against\nthee.\"\n\n\"Now, if I might dye my hair or stain my face--\" Rachel began after a\npause.\n\n\"Thou foolish child!  It would not wear, nor hide thy charm at all!\"\n\n\"But I dread the quarries for thee, Deborah.  If only we might be\nhidden here, somewhere.\"\n\n\"Come, dost thou want to marry Atsu?\" the old woman demanded harshly.\n\nThe girl turned toward her, her face flushed with resentment.\n\n\"Nay!  And that thou knowest.  For this very mingling with Egypt is\nIsrael cursed.  The idolatrous have reached out their hands in marriage\nand wedded the Hebrews away from the God of Abraham.  When did an\nEgyptian desert his gods for the faith of the Hebrew he took in\nmarriage?  Not at any time.  Therefore have we fed the shrines of the\nidols and increased the numbers of the idolaters and behold, the hosts\nof Jehovah have dwindled to naught.  Therefore is He wroth with us, and\njustly.  For are there not pitiful shrines to Ra, Ptah and Amen within\nthe boundaries of Goshen?  Nay, I wed not with an idolater,\" she\nconcluded firmly.\n\nDeborah's wrinkled face lighted and she put a tender arm about the girl.\n\n\"Of a truth, then, it is for me that thou wouldst avoid the quarries,\"\nshe said.  \"I did but try thee, Rachel.\"\n\nRachel looked at her reproachfully, but the old woman smiled and drew\nher out into the open.\n\nWithout, Israel of Pa-Ramesu made ready to surrender a tenth of her\nnumber to the newest task laid on it by the Pharaoh.  Quarrying was\nunusual labor for an Israelite and the name carried terror with it.\nLong had it meant heavy punishment for the malefactor and now was the\nHebrew to take up its bitter life.  The hard form of oppression\nfollowing so closely upon the promise of liberty by Moses had\ndiversified effects upon the camp.  There was rebellion among the\noptimists, and the less hopeful spirits were crushed.  There was the\nscoffer, who exasperates; the enthusiast, the over-buoyant, who could\npoint out favorable omens even in this bitter affliction; and it could\nnot be divined which of these troubled the people more.  But whatever\nthe individual temper, the entire camp was overhung with distress.\n\nIsrael had gathered in families before her tents--the mothers hovering\ntheir broods, the fathers tramping uneasily about them.  In the heart\nof each, perhaps, was an indefinable conviction that he should fall\namong the tens.  Since Israel had died in droves by hard labor in the\nbrick-fields and along the roadways and canals, in what numbers and\nwith what dire speed would not Israel perish in the dreaded stone-pits!\n\nJust outside the doorway of their shelter, Deborah and Rachel\noverlooked the troubled camp.\n\n\"Moses comes in time,\" Rachel said, speaking in a low tone, \"for Israel\nis in sore straits.  The hand of the oppressor assaileth with fury his\nbones and his sinews now.  How shall it be with him if he is bequeathed\nfrom Pharaoh to Pharaoh of an intent like unto the last three?  He\nshall have perished from the face of the earth, for the Hebrew bends\nnot; he breaks.\"\n\nDeborah did not answer at once.  Her sunken eyes were set and she\nseemed not to hear.  But presently she spoke:\n\n\"Thou hast said.  But the Hebrew droppeth out of the inheritance of the\nPharaohs in thy generation, Rachel.  The end of the bondage is at hand.\nThou shalt see it.  Of a truth Israel shall perish.  If its afflictions\nincrease for long.  But they shall not continue.  Have we entered\nCanaan as God sware unto Abraham we should?  Have we possessed the\ngates of our enemies?  Shall He stamp us out, with His promise yet\nunfulfilled?  Behold, we have gone astray from Him, but not utterly, as\nall the other peoples of the earth.  For centuries, amid the great\nclamor of prayers to the hollow gods, there arose only from this\ncompound of slaves, here, a call to Him.  Out of the reek of idolatrous\nsavors, drifted up now and again the straight column from the altar of\na Hebrew, sacrificing to the One God.  Where, indeed, are any faithful,\nsave in Israel?  Shall He condemn us who only have held steadfast?\nNay!  He hath but permitted the oppression that we may have our fill of\nthe glories of Egypt and be glad to turn our backs upon her.  He will\ncure us of idols by showing forth their helplessness when they are\ncried unto; and when Israel is in its most grievous strait and\ntherefore most prone to attach itself to whosoever helpeth it.  He will\nprove Himself at last by His power.  Aye, thou hast said.  Israel can\nsuffer little more without perishing.  Therefore is redemption at hand.\"\n\nRachel had turned her eyes away from the humiliation of Israel to its\nexaltation--from fact to prophecy.  She was looking with awed face at\nDeborah.  The prophetess went on:\n\n\"Israel hath been a green tree, carried hither in seed and grown in the\nwheat-fields of Mizraim.  The herds and the flocks of the Pharaoh\ngathered under its branches and were sheltered from the sun by day and\nfrom the wolves by night.  The early Pharaohs loved it, the later\nPharaohs used it and the last Pharaohs feared it.  For it grew\nexceedingly and overshadowed the wheat-fields and they said: 'It will\ncome between us and Ra who is our god and he will bless it instead of\nthe wheat.  Let us cut it down and build us temples of its timber.'\nBut the Lord had planted the tree in seed and in its youth it grew\nunder the tendance of the Lord's hand.  And in later years, though it\nlent its shadow as a grove for the idols and temples of gods, the most\nof it faced Heaven, and for that the Lord loves it still.  The Pharaohs\nhave lopped its branches, unmolested, but lo! now that the ax strikes\nat its girth, the Lord will uproot it and plant it elsewhere than in\nMizraim.  But the soil will not relinquish it readily, for it hath\nstruck deep.  There shall be a gaping wound in Mizraim where it stood\nand all the land shall be rent with the violence of the parting.\"\n\nThe prophetess paused, or rather her voice died away as if she actually\nbeheld the scene she foretold, and no more words were needed to make it\nplain.  Rachel's hands were clasped before her breast.  \"Sayest thou\nthese things in prophecy?\" she asked finally in an eager half-whisper.\nDeborah's eyes seemed to awaken.  She looked at Rachel a moment and\nanswered with a nod.  The girl's vision wandered slowly again toward\nthe camp, and the sorrowful unrest of Israel subdued the inspired\nelation that had begun to possess her.  Her face clouded once more.\nDeborah touched her.\n\n\"Trouble not thyself concerning these people.  They go forth to labor,\nbut their burdens shall be lightened ere long.  As for thee and me--\"\nshe paused and looked up toward the eminence on which the military\nheadquarters were built.\n\n\"As for thee and me--\" Rachel urged her.  Deborah motioned in the\ndirection she gazed.  \"Come, let us make ready,\" she said; \"they are\nbeginning.\"\n\nThe Egyptian masters over Israel of Pa-Ramesu were emerging from the\nquarters.  They were, almost uniformly, tall, slender and immature in\nfigure.  Dressed in the foot-soldier's tunic and coif, they looked like\nlong-limbed youths compared with the powerful manhood of the sons of\nAbraham.\n\nAmong them, in white wool and enameled aprons, was a number of scribes,\nwithout whom the official machinery of Egypt would have stilled in a\nsingle revolution.\n\nThe men advanced, sauntering, talking with one another idly, as if\nawaiting authority to proceed.\n\nThat came, presently, in the shape of an Egyptian charioteer.  The\nvehicle was heavy, short-poled, set low on two broad wheels of six\nspokes, and built of hard wood, painted in wedge-shaped stripes of\ngreen and red.  The end was open, the front high and curved, the side\nfitted with a boot of woven reeds for the ax and javelins of the\nwarrior.  Axle and pole were shod with spikes of copper and the joints\nwere secured with tongues of bronze.  The horses were bay, small,\nshort, glossy and long of mane and tail.  The harness was simple, each\npiece as broad as a man's arm, stamped and richly stained with many\ncolors.\n\nThe man was an ideal soldier of Egypt.  He was tall and\nbroad-shouldered, but otherwise lean and lithe.  In countenance, he was\ndark,--browner than most Egyptians, but with that peculiar ruddy\nswarthiness that is never the negro hue.  His duskiness was accentuated\nby low and intensely black brows, and deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes.\nAlthough his features were marked by the delicacy characteristic of the\nEgyptian face, there was none of the Oriental affability to be found\nthereon.  One might expect deeds of him, but never words or wit.\n\nHe wore the Egyptian smock, or kamis--of dark linen, open in front from\nbelt to hem, disclosing a kilt or shenti of clouded enamel.  His\nhead-dress was the kerchief of linen, bound tightly across the forehead\nand falling with free-flowing skirts to the shoulders.  The sleeves\nleft off at the elbow and his lower arms were clasped with bracelets of\nivory and gold.  His ankles were similarly adorned, and his sandals of\ngazelle-hide were beaded and stitched.  His was a somber and barbaric\npresence.  This was Atsu, captain of chariots and vice-commander over\nPa-Ramesu.\n\nHis subordinates parted and gave him respectful path.  He delivered his\norders in an impassive, low-pitched monotone.\n\n\"Out with them, and mark ye, no lashes now.  Leave the old and the\nnursing mothers.\"\n\nThe drivers disappeared into the narrow ways of the encampment, and\nAtsu, with the scribes at his wheels, drove out where the avenue of\nsphinxes would have led to the temple of Imhotep.  Here was room for\nthree thousand.  He alighted and, with the scribes who stood, tablets\nin hand, awaited the coming of the Israelites.\n\nThe camp emptied its dwellers in long wavering lines.  Into the open\nthey came, slowly, and with downcast eyes, each with his remnant of a\ntribe.  Though the columns were in order, they were ragged with many\nand varied statures--now a grown man, next to him a child, and then a\nwoman.  Here were the red-bearded sons of Reuben, shepherds in skins\nand men of great hardihood; the seafaring children of Zebulon; a\nhandful of submissive Issachar, and some of Benjamin, Levi, and Judah.\n\n\"Do we not leave the aged behind?\" the scribe asked, indicating Deborah\nwho came with Judah.\n\n\"Give her her way,\" Atsu replied indifferently, and the scribe subsided.\n\nThe lines advanced, filling up the open with moody humanity.  A scribe\nplaced himself at the head of each column, and as the hindmost\nIsraelite emerged into the field the movement was halted.\n\nIf an eye was lifted, it shifted rapidly under the stress of\ndesperation or suspense.  If any spoke, it was the rough and\nindifferent, whose words fell like blows on the distressed silence.\nMany were visibly trembling, others had whitened beneath the tropical\ntan, and the wondering faces of children, who feared without\nunderstanding, turned now and again to search for their elders up and\ndown the lines.\n\nThe drivers distributed themselves among the Israelites and each with a\nscribe went methodically along the files choosing every tenth.\n\n\"Get thee to my house and bring me my lists,\" Atsu said to the soldier\nwho was beginning on Judah.  \"I will look to thy work.\"  The man\ncrossed his left hand to his right shoulder and hastened away.\n\nOne by one nine Israelites dropped out of line as Atsu numbered them\nand returned to camp.  He touched the tenth.\n\n\"Name?\" the scribe asked.\n\n\"Deborah,\" was the reply.\n\nMeanwhile Atsu walked rapidly down the line to Rachel.  The Hebrews\nfell out as he passed, and the relief on the faces of one or two was\nmingled with astonishment.  He paused before the girl, hesitating.\nWords did not rise readily to his lips at any time; at this moment he\nwas especially at loss.\n\n\"Thou canst abide here, in perfect security--with me,\" he said at last.\nShe shook her head.  \"I thank thee, my good master.\"\n\n\"For thy sake, not mine own, I would urge thee,\" he continued with an\nunnatural steadiness.  \"Thou canst accept of me the safety of marriage.\nNothing more shall I offer--or demand.\"\n\nThe color rushed over the girl's face, but he went on evenly.\n\n\"A part go to Silsilis, another to Syene, a third to Masaarah.  If\nthine insulter asks concerning thy whereabouts I shall not trouble\nmyself to remember.  But what shall keep him from searching for\nthee--and are there any like to defend thee, if he find thee, seeing I\nam not there?  And even if thou art securely hidden, thou hast never\ndreamed how heavy is the life of the stone-pits, Rachel.\"\n\n\"Keep Deborah here,\" the girl besought him, distressed.  \"She is old\nand will perish--\"\n\n\"Nay, I will not send thee out alone,\" was the reply.  \"If thou goest,\nso must she.  But--hast thou no fear?\"\n\nOnce again she shook her head.\n\n\"I trust to the triumph of the good,\" she replied earnestly.\n\nThe sound of the scribe's approach behind him, moved him on.\n\n\"Farewell,\" he said as he went, and added no more, for his composure\nfailed him.\n\n\"The grace of the Lord God attend thee,\" she whispered.  \"Farewell.\"\n\nAll the morning the work went on, and when the Egyptian mid-winter noon\nlay warm on the flat country, three hundred Israelites were ready for\nthe long march to the Nile.  They left behind them a camp oppressed\nwith that heart-soreness, which affliction added to old afflictions\nbrings,--the numb ache of sorrow, not its lively pain.  Only Deborah,\nthe childless, and Rachel, the motherless, went with lighter\nhearts,--if hearts can be light that go forward to meet the unknown\nfortunes of bond-people.\n\nAs they moved out, one of the older Hebrews in the forward ranks began\nto sing, in a wild recitative chant, of Canaan and the freedom of\nIsrael.  The elders in the line near him took it up and every face in\nthe long column lighted and was lifted in silent concord with the\nsingers.  Atsu in his chariot, close by, scanned his lists absorbedly,\nbut one of the drivers hurried forward with a demand for silence.  A\nyoung Hebrew, who had tramped in agitated silence just ahead, worked up\ninto recklessness by the fervor of the singers, defied him.  His voice\nrang clear above the song.\n\n\"Go to, thou bald-faced idolater!  Israel will cease to do thy bidding\none near day.\"\n\nThe driver forced his way into the front ranks and began to lay about\nhim with his knout.  Instantly he was cast forth by a dozen brawny arms.\n\n\"Mutiny!\" he bawled.\n\nA group of drivers reinforced him at once.\n\n\"By Bast,\" the foremost cried, as he came running.  \"The sedition of\nthe renegade, Mesu,[1] bears early fruit!\"\n\nBut the spirit of rebellion became contagious and the men of Israel\nbegan to throw themselves out of line.  At this moment, Atsu seemed to\nbecome conscious of the riot and drove his horses between the\ncombatants.\n\n\"Into ranks with you!\" he commanded, pressing forward upon the Hebrews.\nThe men obeyed sullenly.\n\n\"I have said there was to be no use of the knouts,\" he said sharply,\nturning upon the drivers.  \"Forward with them!\"\n\nThe first driver muttered.\n\n\"What sayest thou?\" Atsu demanded.\n\nThe man's mouth opened and closed, and his eyes drew up, evilly, but he\nmade no answer.\n\n\"Forward with them,\" Atsu repeated, without removing his gaze from the\ndriver.\n\nSlowly, and now silently, the hereditary slaves of the Pharaoh moved\nout of Pa-Ramesu.  And of all the departing numbers and of all that\nremained behind, none was more stricken in heart than Atsu, the stern\ntaskmaster over Israel.\n\n\n[1] Moses.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nUNDER BAN OF THE RITUAL\n\nHoly Memphis, city of Apis, habitat of Ptah!\n\nNot idly was she called Menefer, the Good Place.  Not anywhere in Egypt\nwere the winds more gentle, the heavens more benign, the environs more\naugust.\n\nTo the south and west of her, the Libyan hills notched the horizon.  To\nthe east the bald summits of the Arabian desert cut off the traveling\nsand in its march on the capital.  To the north was a shimmering level\nthat stretched unbroken to the sea.  Set upon this at mid-distance, the\npyramids uplifted their stupendous forms.  In the afternoon they\nassumed the blue of the atmosphere and appeared indistinct, but in the\nmorning the polished sides that faced the east reflected the sun's rays\nin dazzling sheets across the valley.\n\nOut of a crevice between the heights to the south the broad blue Nile\nrolled, sweeping past one hundred and twenty stadia or sixteen miles of\nurban magnificence, and lost itself in the shimmering sky-line to the\nnorth.\n\nThe city was walled on the north, west, and south, and its river-front\nwas protected by a mighty dike, built by Menes, the first king of the\nfirst dynasty in the hour of chronological daybreak.  Within were\norderly squares, cross-cut by avenues and relieved from monotony by\nscattered mosaics of groves.  Out of these shady demesnes rose the\ngreat white temples of Ptah and Apis, and the palaces of the various\nMemphian Pharaohs.\n\nAbout these, the bazaars and residences, facade above facade, and tier\nupon tier, as the land sloped up to its center, shone fair and white\nunder a cloudless sun.\n\nMemphis was at the pinnacle of her greatness in the sixth year of the\nreign of the divine Meneptah.  She had fortified herself and resisted\nthe great invasion of the Rebu.  Her generals had done battle with him\nand brought him home, chained to their chariots.\n\nAnd after the festivities in celebration of her prowess, she laid down\npike and falchion, bull-hide shield and helmet, and took up the chisel\nand brush, the spindle and loom once more.\n\nThe heavy drowsiness of a mid-winter noon had depopulated her booths\nand bazaars and quieted the quaint traffic of her squares.  In the\nshadows of the city her porters drowsed, and from the continuous wall\nof houses blankly facing one another from either side of the streets,\nthere came no sound.  Each household sought the breezes on the\nbalconies that galleried the inner walls of the courts, or upon the\npillared and canopied housetops.\n\nMemphis had eaten and drunk and, sheltered behind her screens, waited\nfor the noon to pass.\n\nMentu, the king's sculptor, however, had not availed himself of the\nhour of ease.  He did not labor because he must, for his house stood in\nthe aristocratic portion of Memphis, and it was storied, galleried,\nscreened and topped with its breezy pavilion.  Within the hollow space,\nformed by the right and left wings of his house, the chamber of guests\nto the front, and the property wall to the rear, was a court of\nuncommon beauty.  Palm and tamarisk, acacia and rose-shrub, jasmine and\npurple mimosa made a multi-tinted jungle about a shadowy pool in which\na white heron stood knee-deep.  There were long stretches of sunlit\nsod, and walks of inlaid tile, seats of carved stone, and a single\nsmall obelisk, set on a circular slab, marked with measures for\ntime--the Egyptian sun-dial.  On every side were evidences of wealth\nand luxury.\n\nSo Mentu labored because he loved to toil.  In a land languorous with\ntropical inertia, an enthusiastic toiler is not common.  For this\nreason, Mentu was worth particular attention.  He towered a palm in\nheight over his Egyptian brethren, and his massive frame was entirely\nin keeping with his majestic stature.  He was nearly fifty years of\nage, but no sign of the early decay of the Oriental was apparent in\nhim.  His was the characteristic refinement of feature that marks the\nEgyptian countenance, further accentuated by self-content and some\nhauteur.  The idea of dignity was carried out in his dress.  The kilt\nwas not visible, for the kamis had become a robe, long-sleeved,\nhigh-necked and belted with a broad band of linen, encompassing the\nbody twice, before it was fastened with a fibula of massive gold.\n\nThat he was an artisan noble was another peculiarity, but it was proof\nof exceptional merit.  He had descended from a long line of royal\nsculptors, heightening in genius in the last three.  His grandsire had\nelaborated Karnak; his father had decorated the Rameseum, but Mentu had\nsurpassed the glory of his ancestors.  In the years of his youth, side\nby side with the great Rameses, he had planned and brought to\nperfection the mightiest monument to Egyptian sculpture, the\nrock-carved temple of Ipsambul.  In recognition of this he had been\ngiven to wife a daughter of the Pharaoh and raised to a rank never\nbefore occupied by a king's sculptor.  He was second only to the\nfan-bearers, the most powerful nobles of the realm, and at par with the\nmarket, or royal architect, who was usually chosen from among the\nprinces.  And yet he had but come again to his own when he entered the\nranks of peerage.  In the long line of his ancestors he counted a king,\nand from that royal sire he had his stature.\n\nHe sat before a table covered with tools of his craft, rolls of\npapyrus, pens of reeds, pots of ink of various colors, horns of oil,\nmolds and clay images and vessels of paint.  Hanging upon pegs in the\nwooden walls of his work-room were saws and the heavier drills, chisels\nof bronze and mauls of tamarisk, suspended by thongs of deer-hide.\n\nThe sculptor, rapidly and without effort, worked out with his pen on a\nsheet of papyrus the detail of a frieze.  Tiny profile figures, quaint\nborders of lotus and mystic inscriptions trailed after the swift reed\nin multitudinous and bewildering succession.  As he worked, a young man\nentered the doorway from the court and, advancing a few steps toward\nthe table, watched the development of the drawings with interest.\n\nThose were the days of early maturity and short life.  The Egyptian of\nthe Exodus often married at sixteen, and was full of years and ready to\nbe gathered to Osiris at fifty-five or sixty.  The great Rameses lived\nto the unheard-of age of seventy-seven, having occupied the throne\nsince his eleventh year.\n\nThis young Egyptian, nearly eighteen, was grown and powerful with the\nmight of mature manhood.  A glance at the pair at once established\ntheir relationship as father and son.  The features were strikingly\nsimilar, the stature the same, though the young frame was supple and\nlight, not massive.\n\nThe hair was straight, abundant, brilliant black and cropped midway\ndown the neck and just above the brows.  There was no effort at\nparting.  It was dressed from the crown of the head as each hair would\nnaturally lie and was confined by a circlet of gold, the token of the\nroyal blood of his mother's house.  The complexion was the hue of a\nhealthy tan, different, however, from the brown of exposure in that it\nwas transparent and the red in the cheek was dusky.  The face was the\nclassic type of the race, for be it known there were two physiognomies\ncharacteristic of Egypt.\n\nThe forehead was broad, the brows long and delicately penciled, the\neyes softly black, very long, the lids heavy enough to suggest serenity\nrather than languor.  The nose was of good length, aquiline, the\nnostril thin and sharply chiseled.  The cut of the mouth and the warmth\nof its color gave seriousness, sensitiveness and youthful tenderness to\nthe face.\n\nEgypt was seldom athletic.  Though running and wrestling figured much\nin the pastime of youths, the nation was languid and soft.  However,\nSeti the Elder demanded the severest physical exercise of his sons, and\nRameses II, who succeeded him, made muscle and brawn popular by\nexample, during his reign.  Here, then, was an instance of\nking-mimicking that was admirable.\n\nOriginally the young man had been gifted with breadth of shoulder,\ndepth of chest, health and vigor.  He would have been strong had he\nnever vaulted a pole or run a mile.  To these advantages were added the\nresults of wise and thorough training, so wise, so thorough, that\ndefects in the national physique had been remedied.  Thus, the calves\nwere stanch and prominent, whereas ancient Egypt was as flat-legged as\nthe negro; the body was round and tapered with proper athletic rapidity\nfrom shoulder to heel, without any sign of the lank attenuation that\nwas characteristic of most of his countrymen.\n\nThe suggestion of his presence was power and bigness, not the\ngood-natured size that is hulking and awkward, but bigness that is\nelegant and fine-fibered and ages into magnificence.\n\nHe wore a tunic of white linen, the finely plaited skirt reaching\nalmost to the knees.  The belt was of leather, three fingers in breadth\nand ornamented with metal pieces, small, round and polished.  His\nsandals were of white gazelle-hide, stitched with gold, and, by way of\nornament, he had but a single armlet, and a collar, consisting of ten\ngolden rings, depending by eyelets from a flexible band of the same\nmaterial.  The metal was unpolished and its lack-luster red harmonized\nwonderfully with the bronze throat it clasped.\n\nDiminutive Isis in profile had emerged part-way from the background of\npapyrus, and the sculptor lifted his pen to sketch in the farther\nshoulder as the law required.  The young man leaned forward and\nwatched.  But as the addition was made, giving to the otherwise shapely\nlittle goddess an uncomfortable but thoroughly orthodox twist, he\nfrowned slightly.  After a moment's silence he came to the bench.\n\n\"Hast thou caught some great idea on the wing or hast thou the round of\nactual labor to perform?\" he asked.\n\nHis attention thus hailed, the sculptor raised himself and answered:\n\n\"Meneptah hath a temple to Set[1] in mind; indeed he hath stirred up\nthe quarries for the stone, I am told, and I am making ready, for I\nshall be needed.\"\n\nThe older a civilization, the smoother its speech.  Age refines the\nvowels and makes the consonants suave.  They spoke easily, not hastily,\nbut as oil flows, continuously and without ripple.  The younger voice\nwas deep, soft enough to have been wooing and as musical as a chant.\n\n\"Would that the work were as probable as thou art hopeful,\" the young\nman said with a sigh.\n\n\"Out upon thee, idler!\" was the warm reply.  \"Art thou come to vex me\nwith thy doubts and scout thy sovereign's pious intentions?\"  The young\nman smiled.\n\n\"Hath the sun shone on architecture or sculpture since Meneptah\nsucceeded to the throne?\" he asked.\n\nMentu's eyes brightened wrathfully but the young man laid a soothing\npalm over the hand that gripped the reed.\n\n\"I do not mock thee, father.  Rather am I full of sympathy for thee.\nThou mindest me of a war-horse, stabled, with his battle-love\nunsatisfied, hearing in every whimper of the wind a trumpet call.  Nay,\nI would to Osiris that the Pharaoh's intents were permanent.\"\n\nSomewhat mollified, Mentu put away the detaining hand and went on with\nhis work.  Presently the young man spoke again.\n\n\"I came to speak further of the signet,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, but what signet, Kenkenes?\"\n\n\"The signet of the Incomparable Pharaoh.\"\n\n\"What! after three years?\"\n\n\"The sanctuary of the tomb is never entered and it is more than worth\nthe Journey to Tape[2] to search for the scarab again.\"\n\n\"But you would search in vain,\" the sculptor declared.  \"Rameses has\nreclaimed his own.\"\n\nKenkenes shifted his position and protested.\n\n\"But we made no great search for it.  How may we know of a surety if it\nbe gone?\"\n\n\"Because of thy sacrilege,\" was the prompt and forcible reply.  \"Osiris\nwith chin in hand and a look of mystification on his brow, pondering\nover the misdeeds of a soul!  Mystification on Osiris!  And with that,\nthou didst affront the sacred walls of the royal tomb and call it the\nJudgment of the Dead.  Not one law of the sculptor's ritual but thou\nhadst broken, in the sacrilegious fresco.  Gods!  I marvel that the\nrock did not crumble under the first bite of thy chisel!\"\n\nMentu fell to his work again.  While he talked a small ape entered the\nroom and, discovering the paint-pots, proceeded to decorate his person\nwith a liberal hand.  At this moment Kenkenes became aware of him and,\nby an accurately aimed lump of clay, drove the meddler out with a show\nof more asperity than the offense would ordinarily excite.  Meanwhile\nthe sculptor wetted his pen and, poising it over the plans, regarded\nhis drawings with half-closed eyes.  Then, as if he read his words on\nthe papyrus he proceeded:\n\n\"Thou wast not ignorant.  All thy life hast thou had the decorous laws\nof the ritual before thee.  And there, in the holy precincts of the\nIncomparable Pharaoh's tomb, with the opportunity of a lifetime at\nhand, the skill of thy fathers in thy fingers, thou didst execute an\nimpious whim,--an unheard-of apostasy.\"  He broke off suddenly,\nchanging his tone.  \"What if the priesthood had learned of the deed?\nThe Hathors be praised that they did not and that no heavier punishment\nthan the loss of the signet is ours.\"\n\n\"But it may have caught on thy chisel and broken from its fastening.\nThou dost remember that the floor was checkered with deep black\nshadows.\"\n\n\"The hand of the insulted Pharaoh reached out of Amenti[3] and stripped\nit off my neck,\" Mentu replied sternly.  \"And consider what I and all\nof mine who come after me lost in that foolish act of thine.  It was a\ntoken of special favor from Rameses, a mark of appreciation of mine\nart, and, more than all, a signet that I or mine might present to him\nor his successor and win royal good will thereby.\"\n\n\"That I know right well,\" Kenkenes interrupted with an anxious note in\nhis voice, \"and for that reason am I possessed to go after it to Tape.\"\n\nThe sculptor lifted a stern face to his son and said, with emphasis:\n\"Wilt thou further offend the gods, thou impious?   It is not there,\nand vex me no further concerning it.\"\n\nKenkenes lifted one of his brows with an air of enforced patience, and\nsauntered across the room to another table similarly equipped for\nplan-making.  But he did not concern himself with the papyrus spread\nthereon.  Instead he dropped on the bench, and crossing his shapely\nfeet before him, gazed straight up at the date-tree rafters and\npalm-leaf interbraiding of the ceiling.\n\nThough the law of heredity is not trustworthy in the transmission of\ngreatness, Kenkenes was the product of three generations of heroic\ngenius.  He might have developed the frequent example of decadence; he\nmight have sustained the excellence of his fathers' gift, but he could\nnot surpass them in the methods of their school of sculpture and its\nresults.  There was one way in which he might excel, and he was born\nwith his feet in that path.  His genius was too large for the limits of\nhis era.  Therefore he was an artistic dissenter, a reformer with noble\nideals.\n\nMimetic art as applied to Egyptian painting and sculpture was a curious\nmisnomer.  Probably no other nation of the world at that time was so\ndevoted to it, and certainly no other people of equal advancement of\nthat or any other time so wilfully ignored the simplest rules of\nproportion, perspective and form.  The sculptor's ability to suggest\nmajesty and repose, and at the same time ignore anatomical\nconstruction, was wonderful.  To preserve the features and individual\ncharacteristics of a model and obey the rules of convention was a feat\nto be achieved only by an Egyptian.  There was no lack of genius in\nhim, but he had been denied liberty of execution until he knew no other\nforms but those his fathers followed generations before.\n\nAll Egypt was but a padding that the structural framework of religion\nsupported.  Science, art, literature, government, commerce, whatever\nthe member, it was built upon a bone of religion.  The processes and\nuses of sculpture were controlled by the sculptor's ritual and woe unto\nhim who departed therefrom in depicting the gods!  The deed was\nsacrilege.\n\nIn the portrait-forms the limits were less severely drawn.  There were\na dozen permissible attitudes, and, the characteristic features might\nbe represented with all fidelity; but there were boundaries that might\nnot be overstepped.  The result was an artistic perversion that\nwell-nigh perpetrated a grotesque slander on the personal appearance of\nthe race.\n\nAfter the manner of Egyptians it was understood that Kenkenes was to\nfollow his father's calling, and ahead of him were years of labor laid\nin narrow lines.  If he rebelled, he incurred infinite difficulty and\nopposition, and yet he could not wholly submit.  He had been an apt and\nable pupil during the long process of his instruction, but when the\nmoment of actual practice of his art arrived, he had rebelled.  His\nfirst work had been his last and, in the estimation of his father, had\nentailed a grievous loss.  Thereafter he had been limited to copying\nthe great sculptor's plans, the work of scribes and underlings.\n\nThus, he had passed three years that chafed him because of their\ncomparative idleness and their implied rebuke.  The pressure finally\nbecame too great, and he began to weigh the matter of compromise.  If\nhe could secretly satisfy his own sense of the beautiful he might\nfollow the ritual with grace.\n\nHis cogitations, as he sat before his table, assumed form and purpose.\n\nPresently Mentu, raising his head, noted that the shadows were falling\naslant the court.  With an interested but inarticulate remark, he\ndropped his pen among its fellows in an earthenware tray, his plans\ninto an open chest, and went out across the court, entering an opposite\ndoor.\n\nWith his father's exit, Kenkenes shifted his position, and the\nexpression of deep thought grew on his face.  After a long interval of\nmotionless absorption he sprang to his feet and, catching a wallet of\nstamped and dyed leather from the wall, spread it open on the table.\nChisel, mallet, tape and knife, he put into it, and dropped wallet and\nall into a box near-by at the sound of the sculptor's footsteps.\n\nThe great artist reentered in court robes of creamy linen, stiff with\nembroidery and gold stitching.\n\n\"Har-hat passes through Memphis to-day on his way to Tape, where he is\nto be installed as bearer of the king's fan on the right hand.  He is\nat the palace, and nobles of the city go thither to wait upon him.\"\n\n\"The king was not long in choosing a successor to the lamented Amset,\"\nKenkenes observed.  \"Har-hat vaults loftily from the nomarchship of\nBubastis to an advisership to the Pharaoh.\"\n\n\"Rather hath his ascent been slower than his deserts.  How had the Rebu\nwar ended had it not been for Har-hat?  He is a great warrior, hath won\nhonor for Egypt and for Meneptah.  The army would follow him into the\njaws of Tuat,[4] and Rameses, the heir, need never take up arms, so\nlong as Har-hat commands the legions of Egypt.  But how the warrior\nwill serve as minister is yet to be seen.\"\n\n\"Who succeeds him over Bubastis?\"\n\n\"Merenra, another of the war-tried generals.  He hath been commander\nover Pa-Ramesu.  Atsu takes his place over the Israelites.\"\n\n\"Atsu?\" Kenkenes mused.  \"I know him not.\"\n\n\"He is a captain of chariots, and won much distinction during the Rebu\ninvasion.  He is a native of Mendes.\"\n\nLeft alone, Kenkenes crossed the court to the door his father had\nentered and emerged later in a street dress of mantle and close-fitting\ncoif.  He took up the wallet and quitted the room.  Passing through the\nintramural park and the chamber of guests, he entered the street.  It\nwas a narrow, featureless passage, scarcely wide enough to give room\nfor a chariot.  The brown dust had more prints of naked than of\nsandaled feet, for most men of the young sculptor's rank went abroad in\nchariots.\n\nOnce out of the passage, he turned across the city toward the east.\nMemphis had pushed aside her screens and shaken out her tapestries\nafter the noon rest and was deep in commerce once again.  From the low\nbalconies overhead the Damascene carpets swung, lending festivity to\nthe energetic traffic below.  The pillars of stacked ware flanking the\nfronts of pottery shops were in a constant state of wreckage and\nreconstruction; the stalls of fruiterers perfumed the air with crushed\nand over-ripe produce; litters with dark-eyed occupants and fan-bearing\nattendants stood before the doorways of lapidaries and booths of\nstuffs; venders of images, unguents, trinkets and wines strove to\noutcry one another or the poulterer's squawking stall.  Kenkenes met\nfrequent obstructions and was forced to reduce his rapid pace.\nCurricles and chariots and wicker chairs halted him at many crossings.\nCarriers took up much of the narrow streets with large burdens;\nnotaries and scribes sat cross-legged on the pavement, surrounded by\ntheir patrons and clients, and beggars and fortune-tellers strove for\nthe young man's attention.  The crowd thickened and thinned and grew\nagain; pigeons winnowed fearlessly down to the roadway dust, and a\ndistant yapping of dogs came down the slanting street.  At times\nKenkenes encountered whole troops of sacred cats that wandered about\nthe city, monarchs over the monarch himself.  By crowding into doorways\nhe allowed these pampered felines to pass undisturbed.\n\nIn the district near the lower edge of the city he met the heavy carts\nof rustics, laden with cages of geese and crates of produce, moving\nslowly in from the wide highways of the Memphian nome.  The broad backs\nof the oxen were gray with dust and their drivers were masked in grime.\n\nThe smell of the river became insistent.  In the open stalls the\nfishmongers had their naked brood keeping the flies away from the stock\nwith leafy branches.  The limits of Memphis ended precipitately at a\nsudden slope.  In the long descent to the Nile there were few permanent\nstructures.  Half-way down were great lengths of high platform built\nupon acacia piling.  This was the flood-tide wharf, but it was used now\nonly by loiterers, who lay upon it to bask dog-like in the sun.  The\nlong intervening stretch between the builded city and the river was\ncovered with boats and river-men.  Fishers mending nets were grouped\ntogether, but they talked with one another as if each were a furlong\naway from his fellow.  Freight bearers, emptying the newly-arrived\nvessels of cargo, staggered up toward the city.  Now and again sledges\nladen with ponderous burdens were drawn through the sand by yokes of\noxen, oftener by scores of men, on whom the drivers did not hesitate to\nlay the lash.\n\nRiver traffic was carried on far below the flood-tide wharf.  Here the\nlong landings of solid masonry, covered with deep water four months of\nthe year, were lined with vessels.  Between yard-arms hanging aslant\nand over decks, glimpses of the Nile might be caught.  It rippled\npassively between its banks, for it was yet seven months before the\nfirst showing of the June rise.  Here were the frail papyrus bari,\nconstructed like a raft and no more concave than a long bow; the huge\ncedar-masted cangias, flat-bottomed and slow-moving; the ancient dhow\nwith its shapeless tent-cabin aft; the ponderous cattle barges and\nfreight vessels built of rough-hewn logs; the light passenger skiffs;\nand lastly, the sumptuous pleasure-boats.  These were elaborate and\nbeautiful, painted and paneled, ornamented with garlands and sheaves of\ncarved lotus, and spread with sails, checkered and embroidered in many\ncolors.  From these emerged processions of parties returning from\npleasure trips up the Nile.  They came with much pomp and following,\nasserting themselves and proceeding through paths made ready for them\nby the obsequious laboring classes.\n\nPresently there approached a corps of servants, bearing bundles of\nthrow-sticks, nets, two or three fox-headed cats, bows and arrows,\nstrings of fish and hampers of fowl.  Behind, on the shoulders of four\nstalwart bearers, came a litter, fluttering with gay-colored hangings.\nBeside it walked an Egyptian of high class.  Suddenly the bearers\nhalted, and a little hand, imperious and literally aflame with jewels,\nbeckoned Kenkenes from the shady interior of the litter.\n\nHe obeyed promptly.  At another command the litter was lowered till the\npoles were supported in the hands of the bearers.  The curtains were\nwithdrawn, revealing the occupant--a woman.\n\nThis, to the glory of Egypt!  Woman was defended, revered, exalted\nabove her sisters of any contemporary nation.  No haremic seclusion for\nher; no semi-contemptuous toleration of her; no austere limits laid\nupon her uses.  She bared her face to the thronging streets; she\nreveled beside her brother; she worshiped with him; she admitted no\nsubserviency to her lord beyond the pretty deference that it pleased\nher to pay; she governed his household and his children; she learned,\nshe wrote, she wore the crown.  She might have a successor but no\nsupplanter; an Egyptian of the dynasties before the Persian dominance\ncould have but one wife at a time; none but kings could be profligate,\nopenly.  So, while Babylonia led her maidens to a market, while\nEthiopia ruled hers with a rod, while Arabia numbered hers among her\nshe-camels, Egypt gloried in national chivalry and spiritual love.\n\nThis was the sentiment of the nation, by the lips of Khu-n-Aten, the\nartist king:\n\n\"Sweet love fills my heart for the queen; may she ever keep the hand of\nthe Pharaoh.\"\n\nWhatever Egypt's mode of worshiping Khem and Isis, nothing could set at\nnaught this clean, impulsive, sincere avowal.\n\nHere, then, openly and in perfect propriety was a woman abroad with her\nsuitor.\n\nShe might have been eighteen years old, but there was nothing girlish\nin her gorgeous beauty.  She was a red rose, full-blown.\n\nHer robes were a double thickness of loose-meshed white linen, with a\ndelicate stripe of scarlet; her head-dress a single swathing of scarlet\ngauze.  She wore not one, but many kinds of jewels, and her anklets and\narmlets tinkled with fringes of cats and hawks in carnelian.  Her hair\nwas brilliant black and unbraided.  Her complexion was transparent, and\nthe underlying red showed deeply in the small, full-lipped mouth; like\na stain in the cheeks; like a flush on the brow, and even faintly on\nthe dainty chin.  Her eyes were large and black, with the amorous lid,\nand lined with kohl beneath the lower lash.  Her profile showed the\nexquisite aquiline of the pure-blooded Egyptian.\n\nAside from the visible evidences of charm there was an atmosphere of\nfemininity that permeated her immediate vicinity with a witchery little\nshort of enchantment.  She was the Lady Ta-meri, daughter of Amenemhat,\nnomarch[5] of Memphis.\n\nThe Egyptian accompanying the litter was nearly thirty years of age.\nHe was an example of the other type of the race, differing from the\nclassic model of Kenkenes.  The forehead retreated, the nose was long,\nlow, slightly depressed at the end; the mouth, thick-lipped; the eye,\nnarrow and almond-shaped; the cheek-bones, high; the complexion, dark\nbrown.  Still, the great ripeness of lip, aggressive whiteness of teeth\nand brilliance of eye made his face pleasant.  He wore a shenti of\nyellow, over it a kamis of white linen, a kerchief bound with a yellow\ncord about his head, and white sandals.\n\nHe was the nephew of the king's cup-bearer, who had died without issue\nat Thebes during the past month.  His elder brother had succeeded his\nfather to a high office in the priesthood, but he, Nechutes, was a\ncandidate for the honors of his dead uncle.\n\nKenkenes gave the man a smiling nod and bent over the lady's fingers.\n\n\"Fie!\" was her greeting.  \"Abroad like the rabble, and carrying a\nburden.\"  She filliped the wallet with a pink-stained finger-nail.\n\n\"Sit here,\" she commanded, patting the cushioned edge of the litter.\n\nThe sculptor declined the invitation with a smile.\n\n\"I go to try some stone,\" he explained.\n\n\"Truly, I believe thou lovest labor,\" the lady asserted accusingly.\n\"Ah, but punishment overtakes thee at last.  Behold, thou mightst have\ngone with me to the marshes to-day, but I knew thou wouldst be as deep\nin labor as a slave.  And so I took Nechutes.\"\n\nKenkenes shot an amused glance at her companion.\n\n\"I would wager my mummy, Nechutes, that this is the first intimation\nthou hast had that thou wert second choice,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, thou hast said,\" Nechutes admitted, his eyes showing a sudden\nlight.  He had a voice of profound depth and resonance, that rumbled\nlike the purring of the king's lions.  \"And not a moment since she\nswore that it was I who made her sun to move, and that Tuat itself were\nsweet so I were there.\"\n\n\"O Ma[6],\" the lady cried, threatening him with her fan.  \"Thou\nDefender of Truth, smite him!\"\n\nKenkenes laughed with delight.\n\n\"Nay, nay, Nechutes!\" he cried.  \"Thou dost betray thyself.  Never\nwould Ta-meri have said anything so bald.  Now, when she is moved to\ngive me a honeyed fact, she laps it with delicate intimation, layer on\nlayer like a lotus-bud.  And only under the warm interpretation of my\nheart will it unfold and show the gold within.\"\n\nNechutes stifled a derisive groan, but the lady's color swept up over\nher face and made it like the dawn.\n\n\"Nay, now,\" she protested, \"wherein art thou better than Nechutes, save\nin the manner of telling thy calumny?  But, Kenkenes,\" she broke off,\n\"thou art wasted in thy narrow realm.  They need thy gallant tongue at\ncourt.\"\n\nThe young sculptor made soft eyes at her.\n\n\"If I were a courtier,\" he objected, \"I must scatter my small eloquence\namong many beauties that I would liefer save for one.\"\n\nShe appropriated the compliment at once.\n\n\"Thou dost not hunger after even that opportunity,\" she pouted.  \"How\nlong hath it been since the halls of my father's house knew thy steps?\nA whole moon!\"\n\n\"I feared that I should find Nechutes there,\" Kenkenes explained.\n\nDuring this pretty joust the brows of the prospective cup-bearer had\nknitted blackly.  The scowl was unpropitious.\n\n\"Thou mayest come freely now,\" he growled, \"The way shall be clear.\"\n\nThe lady looked at him in mock fear.\n\n\"Come, Nechutes,\" the sculptor implored laughingly, \"be gracious.\nBeing in highest favor, it behooves thee to be generous.\"\n\nBut the prospective cup-bearer refused to be placated.  He rumbled an\norder to the slaves and they shouldered the litter.\n\nTa-meri made a pretty mouth at him, and turned again to Kenkenes.\n\n\"Nay, Kenkenes,\" she said.  \"It was mine to say that the way shall be\nclear--but I promise it.\"\n\nShe nodded a bright farewell to him, and they moved away.  The\nsculptor, still smiling, continued down to the river.\n\nAt the landing he engaged one of the numerous small boats awaiting a\npassenger, and directed the clout-wearing boatman to drop down the\nstream.\n\nDirectly opposite his point of embarkation there were farm lands,\nfertile and moist, extending inland for a mile.  But presently the\nfrontier of the desert laid down a gray and yellow dead-line over which\nno domestic plant might strike its root and live.\n\nBut the arable tracts were velvet green with young grain, the verdant\nlevel broken here and there by a rustic's hut, under two or three\nclose-standing palms.  Even from the surface of the Nile the checkered\nappearance of the country, caused by the various kinds of products, was\nnoticeable.  Egypt was the most fertile land in the world.\n\nHowever, as the light bari climbed and dipped on the little waves\ntoward the north the Arabian hills began to approach the river.  Their\nfronts became abrupt and showed the edges of stratum on stratum of\nwhite stone.  About their bases were quantities of rubble and gray dust\nslanting against their sides in slides and drifts.  Across the\nnarrowing strip of fertility square cavities in rows showed themselves\nin the white face of the cliffs.  The ruins of a number of squat hovels\nwere barely discernible over the wheat.\n\n\"Set me down near Masaarah,\" Kenkenes said, \"and wait for me.\"  The\nboatman ducked his head respectfully and made toward the eastern shore.\nHe effected a landing at a bedding of masonry on which a wharf had once\nbeen built.  The rock was now over-run with riotous marsh growth.\n\nThe quarries had not been worked for half a century.  The thrifty\nhusbandman had cultivated his narrow field within a few feet of the\nNile, and the roadway that had once led from the ruined wharf toward\nthe hills was obliterated by the grain.\n\nKenkenes alighted and struck through the wheat toward the pitted front\nof the cliffs.  Before him was a narrow gorge that debouched into the\ngreat valley over a ledge of stone three feet in height.  After much\nwinding the ravine terminated in a wide pocket, a quarter of a mile\ninland.  Exit from this cul-de-sac was possible toward the east by a\nsteep slope leading to the top of one of the interior ridges of the\ndesert.  Kenkenes did not pause at the cluster of houses.  The roofs\nhad fallen in and the place was quite uninhabitable.  But he leaped up\ninto the little valley and followed it to its end.  There he climbed\nthe sharp declivity and turned back in the direction he had come, along\nthe flank of the hill that formed the north wall of the gorge.  The\nsummit of the height was far above him, and the slope was covered with\nlimestone masses.  There had been no frost nor rain to disturb the\noriginal rock-piling.  Only the agencies of sand and wind had\ndisarranged the distribution on which the builders of the earliest\ndynasty had looked.  And this was weird, mysterious and labyrinthine.\n\nAt a spot where a great deal of broken rock encumbered the ground,\nKenkenes unslung his wallet and tested the fragments with chisel and\nmallet.  It was the same as the quarry product--magnesium limestone,\nwhite, fine, close-grained and easily worked.  But it was broken in\nfragments too small for his purpose.  Above him were fields of greater\nmasses.\n\n\"Now, I was born under a fortunate sign,\" he said aloud as he scaled\nthe hillside; \"but I fear those slabs are too long for a life-sized\nstatue.\"\n\nOn reaching them he found that those blocks which appeared from a\ndistance to weigh less than a ton, were irregular cubes ten feet high.\n\nHe grumbled his disappointment and climbed upon one to take a general\nsurvey of his stoneyard.  At that moment his eyes fell on a block of\nproper dimensions under the very shadow of the great cube upon which he\nstood.  It was in the path of the wind from the north and was buried\nhalf its height in sand.\n\nKenkenes leaped from his point of vantage with a cry of delight.\n\n\"Nay, now,\" he exclaimed; \"where in this is divine disfavor?\"  He\ninspected his discovery, tried it for solidity of position and purity\nof texture.  Its location was particularly favorable to secrecy.\n\nIt stood at the lower end of an aisle between great rocks.  All view of\nit was cut off, save from that position taken by Kenkenes when he\ndiscovered it.  A wall built between it and the north would bar the\nsand and form a nook, wholly closed on two sides and partly closed at\neach end by stones.  All this made itself plain to the mind of the\nyoung sculptor at once.  With a laugh of sheer content, he turned to\nretrace his steps and began to sing.\n\nThen was the harsh desolation of the hills startled, the immediate\nechoes given unaccustomed sound to undulate in diminishing volume from\none to another.  He sang absently, but his preoccupation did not make\nhis tones indifferent.  For his voice was soft, full, organ-like,\nflexible, easy with illimitable lung-power and ineffable grace.  When\nhe ceased the silence fell, empty and barren, after that song's\nunaudienced splendor.\n\n\n[1] Set--the war-god.\n\n[2] Thebes.\n\n[3] Amenti--The realm of Death.\n\n[4] Tuat--The Egyptian Hades.\n\n[5] Nomarch--governor of a civil division called a nome.  A high office.\n\n[6] Ma--The goddess of truth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE MESSENGER\n\nMentu returned from the session at the palace, uncommunicative and\nmoody.  When, after the evening meal, Kenkenes crossed the court to\ntalk with him, he found the elder sculptor feeding a greedy flame in a\nbrazier with the careful plans for the new temple to Set.  Kenkenes\nretired noiselessly and saw his father no more that night.\n\nThe next day Mentu was bending over fresh sheets of papyrus, and when\nhis son entered and stood beside him he raised his head defiantly.\n\n\"I have another royal obelisk to decorate,\" he said, fixing the young\nman with a steady eye, \"of a surety,--without doubt,--inevitably,--for\nthe thing is all but ready to be set up at On.\"\n\n\"I am glad of that,\" Kenkenes replied gravely.  \"Let me make clean\ncopies of these which are complete.\"\n\nHe gathered up the sheets and took his place at the opposite table.\nThen ensued a long silence, broken only by the loud and restless\ninvestigations of the omnipresent and unabashed ape.\n\nAt last the elder sculptor spoke.\n\n\"The eye of heaven must be unblinkingly upon the divine Meneptah,\" he\nobserved, as though he had but thought aloud.\n\nKenkenes gazed at his father with the inquiry on his face that he did\nnot voice.  The sculptor had risen from his bench and was searching a\nchest of rolled plans near him.  He caught his son's look and closed\nhis mouth on an all but spoken expression.  Kenkenes continued to gaze\nat him in some astonishment, and the elder man muttered to himself:\n\n\"I like him not, though if Osiris should ask me why, I could not tell.\nBut he hath a too-ready smile, and by that I know he will twirl\nMeneptah like a string about his finger.\"\n\nThe eyes of the young man widened.  \"The new adviser?\" he asked.\n\n\"Even so,\" was the emphatic reply.\n\nBefore Kenkenes could ask for further enlightenment a female slave\nbowed in the doorway.\n\n\"The Lady Senci sends thee greeting and would speak with thee.  She is\nat the outer portal in her curricle,\" she said, addressing Mentu.\n\nThe great man sprang to his feet, glanced hurriedly at his ink-stained\nfingers, at his robe, and then fled across the court into the door he\nhad entered to change his dress the day before.\n\nKenkenes smiled, for Mentu had been a widower these ten Nile floods.\n\nThe slave still lingered.\n\n\"Also is there a messenger for thee, master,\" she said, bowing again.\n\n\"So?  Let him enter.\"\n\nThe man whom the slave ushered in a few minutes later was old, spare\nand bent, but he was alert and restless.  His eyes were brilliant and\nover them arched eyebrows that were almost white.  He made a jerky\nobeisance.\n\n\"Greeting, son of Mentu.  Dost thou remember me?\"\n\nThe young man looked at his visitor for a moment.\n\n\"I remember,\" he said at last.  \"Thou art Ranas, courier to Snofru,\npriest of On.  Greeting and welcome to Memphis.  Enter and be seated.\"\n\n\"Many thanks, but mine errand is urgent.  I have been a guest of my\nson, who abideth just without Memphis, and this morning a messenger\ncame to my son's door.  He had been sent by Snofru to Tape, but had\nfallen ill on the river between On and Memphis.  As it happened, the\nhouse of my son was the nearest, and thither he came, in fever and\nbeyond traveling another rod.  As the message he bore concerned the\npriesthood, I went to Asar-Mut and I am come from him to thee.  He bids\nthee prepare for a journey before presenting thyself to him, at the\ntemple.\"\n\nKenkenes frowned in some perplexity.\n\n\"His command is puzzling.  Am I to become a messenger for the gods?\"\n\n\"The first messenger was a nobleman,\" the old courier explained in a\nconciliatory tone, \"and the holy father spoke of thy fidelity and\ndespatch.\"\n\n\"Mine uncle is gracious.  Salute him for me and tell him I obey.\"\n\nThe old man bowed once more and withdrew.\n\nWhen Kenkenes crossed the court a little time later he met his father.\n\n\"The Lady Senci brings me news that makes me envious,\" Mentu began at\nonce, \"and shames me because of thee!\"\n\nKenkenes lifted an expressive brow at this unexpected onslaught.  \"Nay,\nnow, what have I done?\"\n\n\"Nothing!\" Mentu asserted emphatically; \"and for that reason am I\nwroth.  The Lady Senci's nephew, Hotep, is the new chief of the royal\nscribes.\"\n\n\"I call that good tidings,\" Kenkenes replied, a cheerful note in his\nvoice, \"and worth greeting with a health to Hotep.  But thou must\nremember, my father, that he is older than I.\"\n\n\"How much?\" the elder sculptor asked.\n\n\"Three whole revolutions of Ra.\"\n\nThe artist regarded his son scornfully for a moment.\n\n\"The Lady Senci wishes me to prepare plans for the further elaboration\nof her tomb,\" he went on, at last, \"but the work on the obelisk may not\nbe laid aside.  If I might trust you to go on with them, the Lady Senci\nneed not wait.\"\n\n\"But I have, this moment, been summoned by my holy uncle, Asar-Mut, to\ngo on a journey, and I know not when I return,\" Kenkenes explained.\n\nMentu gazed at him without comprehending.\n\n\"A messenger on his way to Tape from Snofru was overtaken with\nmisfortune here, and Asar-Mut, getting word of it, sent for me,\" the\nyoung man continued.  \"I can only guess that he wishes me to carry on\nthe message.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" the elder sculptor remarked.  \"Asar-Mut has kingly tastes.\nThe couriers of priests are not usually of the nobility.  But get thee\ngone.\"\n\nThe pair separated and the young man passed into the house.  The ape\nunder the bunch of leaves in a palm-top looked after him fixedly for a\nmoment, and then sliding down the tree, disappeared among the flowers.\n\nWhen, half an hour later, Kenkenes entered a cross avenue leading to a\ngreat square in which the temple stood, he found the roadway filled\nwith people, crowding about a group of disheveled women.  These were\nshrieking, wildly tearing their hair, beating themselves and throwing\ndust upon their heads.  Kenkenes immediately surmised that there was\nsomething more than the usual death-wail in this.\n\nHe touched a man near him on the shoulder.\n\n\"Who may these distracted women be?\" he asked.\n\n\"The mothers of Khafra and Sigur, and their women.\"\n\n\"Nay!  Are these men dead?  I knew them once.\n\n\"They are by this time.  They were to be hanged in the dungeon of the\nhouse of the governor of police at this hour,\" the man answered with\nmorbid relish in his tone.  Kenkenes looked at him in horror.\n\n\"What had they done?\" he asked.  The man plunged eagerly into the\nnarrative.\n\n\"They were tomb robbers and robbed independently of the brotherhood of\nthieves.[1]  They refused to pay the customary tribute from their spoil\nto the chief of robbers, and whatsoever booty they got they kept, every\njot of it.  Innumerable mummies were found rifled of their gold and\ngems, and although the chief of robbers and the governor of police\nsought and burrowed into every den in the Middle country, they could\nnot find the missing treasure.  Then they knew that the looting was not\ndone by any of the licensed robbers.  So all the professional thieves\nand all the police set themselves to seek out the lawless plunderers.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" interpolated Kenkenes expressively.\n\n\"Aye.  And it was not long with all these upon the scent until Khafra\nand Sigur were discovered coming forth from a tomb laden with spoil,\nand in the struggle which ensued they did murder.  But the constabulary\nhave not found the rest of the booty, though they made great search for\nit and may have put the thieves to torture.  Who knows?  They do dark\nthings in the dungeon under the house of the governor of police.\"\n\n\"And so they hanged them speedily,\" said Kenkenes, desirous of ending\nthe grisly tale.\n\n\"And so they hanged them.  I could not get in to see, and these\nscreaming mothers attracted me, so I am here.  But my neighbor's son is\na friend of the jailer, and I shall know yet how they died.\"\n\nBut Kenkenes was stalking off toward the temple, his shoulders lifted\nhigh with disgust.\n\n\"O, ye inscrutable Hathors,\" he exclaimed finally; \"how ye have\ndisposed the fortunes of four friends!  Two of us hanged, a third in\nroyal favor, a fourth an--an--an offender against the gods.\"\n\nPresently the avenue opened into the temple square.  With reverential\nhand Memphis put back her dwellings and her bazaars, that profane life\nmight not press upon the sacred precincts of her mighty gods.  Here was\na vast acreage, overhung with the atmosphere of sanctity.  The grove of\nmysteries was there, dark with profound shadow, and silent save for a\nlonesome bird song or the suspirations of the wind.  The great pool in\nits stone basin reflected a lofty canopy of sunlit foliage, and the\nshaggy peristyle of palm-tree trunks.\n\nThe shadow of the great structure darkened its approaches before it was\nclearly visible through the grove.  The devotee entered a long avenue\nof sphinxes--fifty pairs lining a broad highway paved with polished\ngranite flagging.\n\nAt its termination the two truncated pyramids that formed the entrance\nto the temple towered upward, two hundred feet of massive masonry.\nEgypt had dismantled a dozen mountains to build two.\n\nWhen he reached the gateway that opened like a tunnel between the\nponderous pylons, he was delayed some minutes waiting till the porter\nshould admit him through the wicket of bronze.  At last, a lank youth,\nthe son of the regular keeper, appeared, and, with an inarticulate\napology, bade him enter.\n\nWithin the overarching portals he was met by a novice, a priest of the\nlowest orders, to whom he stated his mission.  With a sign to the young\nman to follow, the priest passed through the porch into the inner court\nof the temple.  This was simply an immense roofless chamber.  Its sides\nwere the outer walls of the temple proper, reinforced by stupendous\npilasters and elaborated with much bas-relief and many intaglios.  The\nends were formed by the inner pylons of the porch and outer pylons of\nthe main temple.  The latter were guarded by colossal divinities.  Down\nthe center of the court was a second aisle of sphinxes.  They had\nentered this when the priest, with a startled exclamation, sprang\nbehind one of the recumbent monsters in time to avoid the frolicsome\nsalutation of an ape.\n\n\"Anubis!  Mut, the Mother of Darkness, lends you her cloak!  Out!\"\nKenkenes cried, striking at his pet.  The wary animal eluded the blow\nand for a moment revolved about another sphinx, pursued by his master,\nand then fled like a phantom out of the court by the path he came.  By\nthis time the priest had emerged from his refuge and was attempting to\nprevent the young man's interference with the will of the ape.\n\n\"Nay, nay; I am sorry!\" the priest exclaimed as Anubis disappeared.\n\"It is an omen.  Toth[2] visiteth Ptah; Wisdom seeketh Power!  Came he\nby divine summons or did he seek the great god?  It is a problem for\nthe sorcerers and is of ominous import!\"\n\n\"The pestiferous creature followed me unseen from the house,\" Kenkenes\nexplained, rather flushed of countenance.  \"To me it is an omen that\nthe idler who keeps the gate is not vigilant.\"\n\nThe priest shook his head and led the way without further words into\nthe temple.  Here the young sculptor was conducted through a wilderness\nof jacketed columns, over pavements that rang even under sandaled feet,\nto the center of a vast hall.  The priest left him and disappeared\nthrough the all-enveloping twilight into the more sacred part of the\ntemple.\n\nIn a moment, Asar-Mut, high priest to Ptah, appeared, approaching\nthrough the dusk.  He wore the priestly habiliments of spotless linen,\nand, like a loose mantle, a magnificent leopard-skin, which hung by a\nclaw over the right shoulder and, passing under the left arm, was\nfastened at the breast by a medallion of gold and topaz.  He was a\ntypical Egyptian, but thinner of lip and severer of countenance than\nthe laity.  The wooden dolls tumbled about by the children of the realm\nwere not more hairless than he.  His high, narrow head was ghastly in\nits utter nakedness.\n\nKenkenes bent reverently before him and was greeted kindly by the\npontiff.\n\n\"Hast thou guessed why I sent for thee?\" he asked at once.\n\n\"I have guessed,\" Kenkenes replied, \"but it may be wildly.\"\n\n\"Let us see.  I would have thee carry a message for the brotherhood.\"\n\nKenkenes inclined his head.\n\n\"Good.  Be thy journey as quick as thy perception.  I ask thy pardon\nfor laying the work of a temple courier upon thy shoulders, but the\nmessage is of such import that I would carry it myself were I as young\nand unburdened with duty as thou.\"\n\n\"I am thy servant, holy Father, and well pleased with the opportunity\nthat permits me to serve the gods.\"\n\n\"I know, and therefore have I chosen thee.  My trusted courier is dead;\nthe others are light-minded, and Tape is in the height of festivity.\nThey might delay--they might be lured into forgetting duty, and,\" the\npontiff lowered his voice and drew nearer to Kenkenes, \"and there are\nthose that may be watching for this letter.  A nobleman would not be\nthought a messenger.  Thou dost incur less danger than the\nclout-wearing runner for the temple.\"\n\nA light broke over Kenkenes.\n\n\"I understand,\" he said.\n\n\"Go, then, by private boat at sunset, and Ptah be with thee.  Make all\nspeed.\"  He put a doubly wrapped scroll into Kenkenes' hands.  \"This is\nto be delivered to our holy Superior, Loi, priest of Amen.  Farewell,\nand fail not.\"\n\nKenkenes bowed and withdrew.\n\nIt was long before sunset, and he had an unfulfilled promise in mind.\nHe crossed the square thoughtfully and paused by the pool in its\ncenter.  The surface, dark and smooth as oil, reflected his figure and\nface faithfully and to his evident satisfaction.  He passed around the\npool and walked briskly in the direction of another narrow passage\nlined by rich residences.\n\nHe knocked at a portal framed by a pair of huge pilasters, which\ntowered upward, and, as pillars, formed two of the colonnade on the\nroof.  A portress admitted him with a smile and led him through the\nsumptuously appointed chamber of guests into the intramural park.\nThere she indicated a nook in an arbor of vines and left him.\n\nWith a silent foot he crossed the flowery court and entered the bower.\nThe beautiful dweller sat in a deep chair, her little feet on a carved\nfootstool, a silver-stringed lyre tumbled beside it.  She was alone and\nappeared desolate.  When the tall figure of the sculptor cast a shadow\nupon her she looked up with a little cry of delight.\n\n\"Oh,\" she exclaimed, \"a god led thee hither to save me from the\nsolitude.  It is a moody monster not catalogued in the list of\nterrors.\"  She thrust the lyre aside with her sandal and pushed the\nfootstool, only a little, away from her.\n\n\"Sit there,\" she commanded.  Kenkenes obeyed willingly.  He drew off\nhis coif and tossed it aside.\n\n\"Thou seest I am come in the garb of labor,\" he confessed.\n\n\"I see,\" she answered severely.  \"Am I no longer worthy the robe of\nfestivity?\"\n\n\"Ah, Ta-meri, thou dost wrong me,\" he said.  \"Chide me, but impugn me\nnot.  Nay, I am on my way to Tape.  I was summoned hurriedly and am\nalready dismissed upon mine errand, but I could not use myself so ill\nas to postpone my visit for eighteen days.\"\n\nShe jeered at him prettily.\n\n\"To hear thee one would think thou hadst been coming as often as\nNechutes.\"\n\n\"How often does Nechutes come?\"\n\n\"Every day.\"\n\n\"Of late?\" he asked, with a laugh in his eyes.\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered sulkily.  \"Not since the day--that day!\"\n\nKenkenes was silent for a moment.  Then he put his elbow on the arm of\nher chair and leaned his head against his hand.  The attitude brought\nhim close to her.\n\n\"All these days,\" he said at length, \"he has been unhappy among the\nhappy and the unhappiest among the sad.  He has summoned the shuddering\nPantheon, to hear him vow eternal unfealty to thee, Ta-meri--and lo!\nwhile they listened he begged their most potent charm to hold thee to\nhim still.  Poor Nechutes!\"\n\n\"Thou dost treat it lightly,\" she reproached him, her eyes veiled, \"but\nit is of serious import to--to Nechutes.\"\n\n\"Nay, I shall hold my tongue.  I efface myself and intercede for him,\nand thou dost call it exulting.  And when I am fallen from thy favor\nthere will be none to plead my cause, none to hide her misty eyes with\ncontrite lashes.\"\n\n\"Mine eyes are not misty,\" she retorted.\n\n\"Thou hast said,\" he admitted, in apology.  \"It was not a happy term.\nI meant bejeweled with repentant dew.\"\n\nShe shook her little finger at him.\n\n\"If thou dost persist in thy calumny of me, thou mayest come to test\nthy dismal augury,\" she warned.\n\nHe dropped his eyes and his mouth drooped dolorously.\n\n\"I come for comfort, and I get Nechutes and all the unpropitious\npossibilities that his name suggests.\"\n\n\"Comfort?  Thou, in trouble?  Thou, the light-hearted?\" she laughed.\n\n\"Nay; I am discontented, but I might as well hope to heave the skies\naway with my shoulders as to rebel against mine oppression.  So I came\nto be petted into submission.\"\n\n\"Nay, dost thou hear him?\" the lady cried.  \"And he came, because he\nwas sure he would get it!\"\n\n\"And he will go away because the Lady Ta-meri means he shall not have\nit,\" he exclaimed.  He reached toward his coif and immediately a\npanic-stricken little hand stayed him.\n\n\"Nay,\" she said softly.  \"I was but retaliating.  Hast thou not plagued\nme, and may I not tease thee a little in revenge?  Say on.\"\n\n\"My--but now I bethink me, I ought not to tell thee.  It savors of that\nwhich so offends thy nice sense of gentility--labor,\" he said, sinking\nback in his easy attitude again.\n\n\"Fie, Kenkenes,\" she said.  \"Hath some one put thy slavish love of toil\nunder ban?  Does that oppress thee?\"  He reproved her with a pat on the\nnearest hand.\n\n\"The king toils; the priests toil; the powers of the world labor.  None\nbut the beautiful idle may be idle, and that for their beauty's sake.\nNay, it is not that I may not work, but I may not work as I wish and I\nam heart-sick therefore.\"\n\nHis last words ended in a tone of genuine dejection.  His eyes were\nfixed on the grass of the nook and his brows had knitted slightly.  The\nexpression was a rare one for his face and in its way becoming--for the\nmoment at least.  The hand he had patted drew nearer, and at last,\nafter a little hesitancy, was laid on his black hair.  He lifted his\nface and took cheer, from the light in her eyes, to proceed.\n\n\"Since I may speak,\" he began, \"I shall.  Ta-meri, thou knowest that as\na sculptor I work within limits.  The stature of mine art must crouch\nunder the bounds of the ritual.  It is not boasting if I say that I\nsee, with brave eyes, that Egypt insults herself when she creates\nhorrors in stone and says, 'This is my idea of art.'  And these things\nare not human; neither are they beasts--they are grotesques that verge\nso near upon a semblance of living things as to be piteous.  They\nthwart the purpose of sculpture.  Why do we carve at all, if not to\nshow how we appear to the world or the world appears to us?  Now for my\nrebellion.  I would carve as we are made; as we dispose ourselves; aye,\nI would display a man's soul in his face and write his history on his\nbrow.  I would people Egypt with a host of beauty, grace and\nnaturalness--\"\n\n\"Just as if they were alive?\" Ta-meri inquired with interest.\n\n\"Even so--of such naturalness that one could guess only by the hue of\nthe stone that they did not breathe.\"\n\nThe lady shrugged her shoulders and laughed a little.\n\n\"But they do not carve that way,\" she protested.  \"It is not sculpture.\nThou wouldst fill the land with frozen creatures--ai!\" with another\nlittle shrug.  \"It would be haunted and spectral.  Nay, give me the old\nforms.  They are best.\"\n\nKenkenes fairly gasped with his sudden descent from earnest hope to\ndisappointment.  A flood of half-angry shame dyed his face and the\nwound to his sensibilities showed its effect so plainly that the beauty\nnoted it with a sudden burst of compunction.\n\n\"Of a truth,\" she added, her voice grown wondrous soft, \"I am full of\nsympathy for thee, Kenkenes.  Nay, look up.  I can not be happy if thou\nart not.\"\n\n\"That suffices.  I am cheered,\" he began, but the note of sarcasm in\nhis voice was too apparent for him to permit himself to proceed.  He\ncaught up the lyre, and drawing up a diphros--a double seat of fine\nwoods--rested against it and began to improvise with an assumption of\ncarelessness.  Ta-meri sank back in her chair and regarded him from\nunder dreamy lids--her senses charmed, her light heart won by his\ncomeliness and talent.  Kenkenes became conscious of her inspection, at\nlast, and looked up at her.  His eyes were still bright with his recent\nfeeling and the hue in his cheeks a little deeper.  The admiration in\nher face became so speaking that he smiled and ran without pausing into\none of the love-lyrics of the day.  Breaking off in its midst, he\ndropped the lyre and said with honest apology in his voice:\n\n\"I crave thy pardon, Ta-meri.  What right had I to weight thee with my\ncares!  It was selfish, and yet--thou art so inviting a confidante,\nthat it is not wholly my fault if I come to seek of thee, my oldest and\nsweetest friend, the woman comfort that was bereft me with my rightful\ncomforter.\"\n\n\"Neither mother nor sister nor lady-love,\" she mused.  He nodded, but\nthe slight interrogative emphasis caught him, and he looked up at her.\nHe nodded again.\n\n\"Nay, nor lady-love, thanks to the luck of Nechutes.\"\n\n\"Nechutes is no longer lucky,\" she said deliberately.\n\n\"No matter,\" Kenkenes insisted.  \"I shall be gone eighteen days, and\nhis luck will have changed before I can return.\"\n\n\"Thine auguries seem to please thee,\" she pouted.\n\nHe put the back of her jeweled hand against his cheek.\n\n\"Nay, I but comfort thee at the sacrifice of mine own peace.\"\n\n\"A futile sacrifice.\"\n\n\"What!\"\n\n\"A futile sacrifice!\"\n\n\"Ah, Ta-meri, beseech the Goddess Ma to forget thy words!\" he cried in\nmock horror.  She tossed her head, and instantly he got upon his feet,\ncatching up his coif as he did so.\n\n\"Come, bid me farewell,\" he said putting out his hand, \"and one of\ndouble sweetness, for I doubt me much if Nechutes will permit a welcome\nwhen I return.\"\n\n\"Nechutes will not interfere in mine affairs,\" she said, as she rose.\n\n\"Nay, I shall know if that be true when I return,\" he declared.\n\nShe stamped her foot.\n\n\"Fie!\" he laughed.  \"Already do I begin to doubt it.\"\n\nShe turned from him and kept her face away.  Kenkenes went to her and,\ntaking both her hands in his, drew her close to him.  She did not\nresist, but her face reproached him--not for what he was doing, but for\nwhat he had done.  With his head bent, he looked down into her eyes for\na moment.  Her red mouth with its sulky pathos was almost irresistible.\nBut he only pressed one hand to his lips.\n\n\"I must wait until I return,\" he said from the doorway, and was gone.\n\nOn the broad bosom of the Nile at sunset, four strong oarsmen were\nspeeding him swiftly up to Thebes.  Off the long wharves at the\nsouthernmost limits of the city, the rapid boat overtook and passed\nlow-riding, slowly moving stone-barges laden with quarry slaves.  The\nunwieldy craft progressed heavily, nearer and within the darkening\nshadow of the Arabian hills.  Kenkenes watched them as long as they\nwere in sight, an unwonted pity making itself felt in his heart.  For\neven in the dusk he distinguished many women and the immature figures\nof children; and none knew the quarry life better than he, who was a\nworker in stone.\n\n\n\n[1] In ancient Egypt burglary was reduced to a system and governed by\nlaw.  The chief of robbers received all the spoil and to him the\nvictimized citizen repaired and, upon payment of a certain per cent. of\nthe value of the object stolen, received his property again.  The\noriginal burglar and the chief of robbers divided the profits.  This\ntraffic was countenanced in Egypt until the country passed into British\nhands.\n\n[2] The ape was sacred to and an emblem of Toth, the male deity of\nWisdom and Law.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE PROCESSION OF AMEN\n\nThebes Diospolis, the hundred-gated, was in holiday attire.  The great\nsuburb to the west of the Nile had emptied her multitudes into the\nsolemn community of the gods.  Besides her own inhabitants there were\nthousands from the entire extent of the Thebaid and visitors even from\nfar-away Syene and Philae.  It was an occasion for more than ordinary\npomp.  The great god Amen was to be taken for an outing in his ark.\n\nEvery possible manifestation of festivity had been sought after and\ndisplayed.  The air was a-flutter with party-colored streamers.\nGarlands rioted over colossus, peristyle, obelisk and sphinx without\nconserving pattern or moderation.  The dromos, or avenue of sphinxes,\nwas carpeted with palm and nelumbo leaves, and copper censers as large\nas caldrons had been set at equidistance from one another, and an\nunceasing reek of aromatics drifted up from them throughout the day.\n\nFor once the magnificence of the wondrous city of the gods was set down\nfrom its usual preeminence in the eyes of the wondering spectator, and\nthe vastness of the multitude usurped its place.  The bari of Kenkenes\nseeking to round the island of sand lying near the eastern shore\nopposite the village of Karnak, met a solid pack of boats.  The young\nsculptor took in the situation at once, and, putting about, found a\nlanding farther to the north.  There he made a portage across the flat\nbar of sand to the arm of quiet water that separated the island from\nthe eastern shore.  Crossing, he dismissed his eager and excited\nboatmen and struck across the noon-heated valley toward the temple.\nThe route of the pageant could be seen from afar, cleanly outlined by\nhumanity.  It extended from Karnak to Luxor and, turning in a vast loop\nat the Nile front, countermarched over the dromos and ended at the\ntremendous white-walled temple of Amen.  Between the double ranks of\nsightseers there was but chariot room.  The side Kenkenes approached\nsloped sharply from the dromos toward the river, and the rearmost\nspectators had small opportunity to behold the pageant.  The multitude\nhere was less densely packed.  Kenkenes joined the crowd at this point.\n\nHere was the canaille of Thebes.\n\nThey wore nothing but a kilt of cotton--or as often, only a cincture\nabout the loins, and their lean bodies were blackened by the terrible\nsun of the desert.  They were the apprentices of paraschites,[1]\nbrewers, professional thieves, slaves and traffickers in the unclean\nnecessities of a great city, and only their occasional riots, or such\nevents as this, brought them into general view of the upper classes.\nThey had nothing in common with the gentry, whom they were willing to\nrecognize as creatures of a superior mold.  Among themselves there were\nestablished castes, and members of each despised the lower and hated\nthe upper.  Kenkenes slackened his pace when he recognized the\ncharacter of these spectators, and after hesitating a moment, he hung\nthe flat wallet containing the message around his neck inside his kamis\nand pushed on.  Every foot of progress he essayed was snarlingly\ndisputed until the rank of the aggressive stranger was guessed by his\nsuperior dress, when he was given a moody and ungracious path.  But he\nfinally met an immovable obstacle in the shape of a quarrel.\n\nThe stage of hostilities was sufficiently advanced to be menacing, and\nthe young sculptor hesitated to ponder on the advisability of pressing\non.  While he waited, several deputies of the constabulary,\nmethodically silencing the crowd, came upon these belligerents in turn\nand belabored the foremost into silence.  The act decided the young\nman.  The feelings of the rabble were now in a state sufficiently\nwarlike to make them forget their ancient respect for class and turn\nsavagely upon him, should he show any desire to force his way through\ntheir lines.  Therefore he gave up his attempt to reach the temple and\nmade up his mind to remain where he was.  At that moment, several\ngorgeous litters of the belated wealthy rammed a path to the very front\nand were set down before the rabble.  Kenkenes seized upon their\nadvance to proceed also, and, dropping between the first and second\nlitter, made his way with little difficulty to the front.  With the\ncomplacency of a man that has rank and authority on his side he turned\nup the roadway and continued toward the temple.  He was halted before\nhe had proceeded ten steps.  A litter richly gilded and borne by four\nmen, came pushing through the crowd and was deposited directly in his\npath.\n\nBut for the unusual appearance of the bearers, Kenkenes might have\npassed around the conveyance and continued.  Instead, he caught the\ncontagious curiosity of the crowd and stood to marvel.  The men were\nstalwart, black-bearded and strong of feature, and robed in no Egyptian\ngarb.  They were draped voluminously in long habits of brown linen,\nfringed at the hem, belted by a yellow cord with tasseled ends.  The\nsleeves were wide and showed the wristbands of a white under-garment.\nThe head-dress was a brown kerchief bound about the brow with a cord,\nalso yellow.\n\nWhile Kenkenes examined them in detail, a long, in-drawn breath of\nwonder from the circle of spectators caused him to look at the\nalighting owner of the litter.\n\nHe took a backward step and halted, amazed.\n\nBefore him was a woman of heroic proportions, taller, with the\nexception of himself, than any man in the crowd.  Upon her, at first\nglance, was to be discerned the stamp of great age, yet she was as\nstraight as a column and her hair was heavy and midnight-black.  Hers\nwas the Semitic cast of countenance, the features sharply chiseled, but\nwithout that aggressiveness that emphasizes the outline of a withered\nface.  Every passing year had left its mark on her, but she had grown\nold not as others do.  Here was flesh compromising with age--accepting\nits majesty, defying its decay--a sublunar assumption of immortality.\nThere was no longer any suggestion of femininity; the idea was dread\npower and unearthly grace.  Of such nature might the sexless archangels\npartake.\n\n\"Holy Amen!\" one of the awed bystanders exclaimed in a whisper to his\nneighbor.  \"Who is this?\"\n\n\"A princess from Punt,\" [2] the neighbor surmised.\n\n\"A priestess from Babylon,\" another hazarded.\n\n\"Nay, ye are all wrong,\" quavered an old man who had been looking at\nthe new-comers under the elbows of the crowd.  \"She is an Israelite.\"\n\n\"Thou hast a cataract, old man,\" was the scornful reply from some one\nnear by.  \"She is no slave.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" went on the unsteady voice, \"I know her.  She was the favorite\nwoman of Queen Neferari Thermuthis.  She has not been out of the Delta\nwhere her people live since the good queen died forty years ago.  She\nmust be well-nigh a hundred years old.  Aye, I should know her by her\nstature.  It is of a truth the Lady Miriam.\"\n\nAt the sound of his mistress' name one of the bearers turned and shot a\nsharp glance at the speaker.  Instantly the old man fell back, saying,\nas a sneer of contempt ran through the rabble at the intelligence his\nwords conveyed: \"Anger them not.  They have the evil eye.\"\n\nKenkenes had guessed the nationality of the strangers immediately, but\nhad doubted the correctness of his surmise, because of their noble\nmien.  If he suffered any disappointment in hearing proof of their\nidentity, it was immediately nullified by the joy his artist-soul took\nin the stately Hebrew woman.  He forgot the mission that urged him to\nthe temple and, permitting the shifting, restless crowd to surround\nhim, he lingered, thinking.  This proud disdain must mark his goddess\nof stone in the Arabian hills, this majesty and power; but there must\nbe youth and fire in the place of this ancient calm.\n\nA porter that stood beside him, emboldened by barley beer and the\ngrowing disapproval among the on-lookers, cried:\n\n\"Ha! by the rags of my fathers, she outshines her masters, the\nbrickmaking hag!\"\n\nKenkenes, who towered over the ruffian, became possessed of a sudden\nand uncontrollable indignation.  He pecked the man on the head with the\nknuckle of his forefinger, saying in colloquial Egyptian:\n\n\"Hold thy tongue, brawler, nor presume to flout thy betters!\"\n\nThe stately Israelite, who had taken no notice of any word against her,\nnow turned her head toward Kenkenes and slowly inspected him.  He had\nno opportunity to guess whether her gaze was approving, for the crowd\nabout him, grown weary of waiting, had become quarrelsome and was\nloudly resenting his defense of the Hebrews.  The porter, supported by\nseveral of his brethren, was already menacing the young sculptor when\nsome one shouted that the procession was in sight.\n\nFrom his position Kenkenes commanded a long view of the street that\ndeclined sharply toward the river.  As yet there was nothing to be seen\nof the pageant, but the dense crowds far down the highway swayed\nbackward from the narrow path between them.  Presently, scantily-clad\nrunners were distinguished coming in a slow trot between the\nmultitudes.  The lane widened before the swing of their maces and there\nwere cries of alarm as the spectators in the middle were pressed\nbetween the retreating forward ranks and the immovable rear.  Running\nwater-bearers pursued the couriers with gurglets, sprinkling the way.\nDirectly after these, slim bare-limbed youths came in a rapid pace\nstrewing the path with flowers and palm-leaves.  By this time the\nintermittent sound of music had grown insistent and continuous.  Solemn\nbodies of priests approached, series after series of the shaven,\nwhite-robed ministers of Amen.  The murmur had grown to an uproar.  The\nwild clamor of trumpet, pipe, cymbal and sistrum, with the long drone\nof the arghool as undertone, drifted by.  The upper orders of priests\nfollowed in the vibrating wake of the musicians.  Then came Loi,\nhigh-priest to the patron god of Thebes, walking alone, his ancient\nfigure most pitifully mocked by the richness of his priestly robes.\n\nAfter him the great god, Amen, in his ark.\n\nThe air was rent with acclaim.  The crowd was too dense for any one to\nprostrate himself, but every Egyptian, potentate or slave, assumed as\nnearly as possible the posture of humility.  Kenkenes bent reverently,\nbut he lifted his eyes and looked long at the passing ark.  Six priests\nbore it upon their shoulders.  It was a small boat, elaborately carved,\nand the cabin in the center--the retreat of the deity--was picketed\nwith a cordon of sacred images.  The entire feretory was overlaid with\ngold and crusted with gems.\n\nMentu, his father, had planned one for Ptah, and a noble work it\nwas,--quite equal to this, Kenkenes thought.\n\nHis artistic deliberations were interrupted by an angry tone in the\nclamor about him.  The Israelites had called out a demonstration of\ncontempt before, and he guessed at once that they had further\ndispleased the rabble.  It was even as he had thought.  The four\nbearers with folded arms contemplated the threatening crowd with a\nsidelong gaze of contempt.  The stately Israelite stood in a dream, her\nbrilliant eyes fixed in profound preoccupation on the distance.\nKenkenes knew by the present attitude of the group that they had made\nno obeisance to Amen.  Hence the mutterings among the faithful.  Few\nhad seen the offense at first, but the demonstration spread\nnevertheless, and assumed ominous proportions.\n\n\"Nay, now,\" Kenkenes thought impatiently, \"such impiety is foolhardy.\"\nBut he drifted into the group of Hebrews and stood between the woman of\nIsrael and her insulters.  The bearers glanced at him, at one another,\nand closed up beside him, but he had eyes only for the majestic\nIsraelite.  Not till he saw her bend with singular grace did he look\nagain on the pageant, interested to know what had won her homage.\n\nShe had done obeisance before the crown prince of Egypt.  He stood in a\nsumptuous chariot drawn by white horses and driven by a handsome\ncharioteer.  The princely person was barely visible for the pair of\nfeather fans borne by attendants that walked beside him.  Through\ncontinuous cheering he passed on.  Seti, the younger, followed, driving\nalone.  His eyes wandered in pleased wonder over the multitude which\nhowled itself hoarse for him.\n\nClose behind him was a chariot of ebony drawn by two plunging,\ncoal-black horses.  A robust Egyptian, who shifted from one foot to the\nother and talked to his horses continually, drove therein alone.  As he\napproached, the Hebrew woman raised herself so suddenly that one of the\nnervous animals side-stepped affrighted.  The swaggering Egyptian, with\na muttered curse, struck at her with his whip.  The four bearers sprang\nforward, but she quieted them with a few words in Hebrew.  Reentering\nher litter she was borne away, while the Thebans were still lost in the\ndelights of the procession.\n\nIn the few strange words of the woman of Israel, Kenkenes had caught\nthe name of Har-hat.  This then was the bearer of the king's fan--this\ninsulter of age and womanhood.  And the words of Mentu seemed very\nfitting,--\"I like him not.\"\n\nThe Thebans were in raptures.  The splendors of the pageant had far\nsurpassed their expectations.  Priests, soldiers and officials came in\ncompanies, rank upon rank, of exalted and ornate dignity.  Chariots and\nhorses shone with gilding, polished metal and gay housings, while the\nmarching legions clanked with pike and blade and shield.  Now that the\nchief luminaries of the procession had passed, the rich and lofty\ndeparted with a great show of indifference to the rest of the parade.\nBut the humbler folk, all unlearned in the art of assumption, had not\nreached that nice point of culture, and lingered to see the last\nfoot-soldier pass.\n\nKenkenes, urged by his mission, was departing with the rich and lofty,\nwhen his attention was attracted by the chief leading the section of\nroyal scribes now passing.  His was a compact, plump figure, amply\nrobed in sheeny linen, and he balanced himself skilfully in his light\nshell of a chariot, which bumped over the uneven pavement.  He was not\na brilliant mark in the long parade, but something other than his mere\nappearance made him conspicuous.  Behind him, walking at a respectful\ndistance, was his corps of subordinates--all mature, many of them aged,\nbut the years of their chief were fewer than those of the youngest\namong them.  From the center of the crowd his face appeared boyish, and\nthe multitude hailed him with delight.  But the crown prince himself\nwas not more unmoved by their acclaim.  His silent dignity,\nmisunderstood, brought forth howls of genuine pleasure, and groups of\nyoung noblemen, out of the great college of Seti I, saluted him by\nname, adding thereto exalted titles in good-natured derision.\n\n\"Hotep!\" ejaculated Kenkenes aloud, catching the name from the lips of\nthe students.  \"By Apis, he is the royal scribe!\"\n\nNot until then had he realized the extent of his friend's exaltation.\n\nHe turned again toward the temple, walking between the crowds and the\nmarching soldiers, indifferent to the shouts of the spectators--lost in\ncontemplation.  But the procession moved more swiftly than he and the\nlast rank passed him with half his journey yet to complete.  Instantly\nthe vast throng poured out into the way behind the rearmost soldier and\nswallowed up the sculptor in a shifting multitude.  For an hour he was\nhurried and halted and pushed, progressing little and moving much.\nBefore he could extricate himself, the runners preceding the pageant\nreturning the great god to his shrine, beat the multitude back from the\ndromos and once again Kenkenes was imprisoned by the hosts.  And once\nagain after the procession had passed, he did fruitless battle with a\ntossing human sea.  But when the street had become freer, he stood\nbefore the closed portal of the great temple.  The solemn porter\nscrutinized the young sculptor sharply, but the display of the\nlinen-wrapped roll was an efficient passport.  In a little space he was\nconducted across the ringing pavements, under the vaulted shadows, into\nthe presence of Loi, high priest to Amen.\n\nThe ancient prelate had just returned from installing the god in his\nshrine and was yet invested in his sacerdotal robes.  At one time this\nsplendid raiment had swathed an imposing figure, but now the frame was\nbowed, its whilom comfortable padding fallen away, its parchment-like\nskin folded and wrinkled and brown.  He was trembling with the long\nfatigue of the spectacle.\n\nHe spelled the hieratic writings upon the outer covering of the roll\nwhich the young man presented to him, and asked with some eagerness in\nhis voice:\n\n\"Hast thou traveled with all speed?\"\n\n\"Scarce eight days have I been on the way.  Only have I been delayed a\nfew hours by the crowds of the festival.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" replied the pontiff.  \"Wait here while I see what says my\nbrother at On.\"\n\nHe motioned Kenkenes to a seat of inlaid ebony and retired into a\ncurtained recess.\n\nThe apartment into which Kenkenes had been conducted was small.  It was\nevidently the study of Loi, for there was a small library of papyri in\ncases against the wall; a deep fauteuil was before a heavy table\ncovered with loosely rolled writings.  The light from a high slit under\nthe architrave sifted down on the floor strewn with carpets of\nDamascene weave.  Two great pillars, closely set, supported the\nceiling.  They were of red and black granite, and each was surmounted\nby a foliated encarpus of white marble.  The ceiling was a marvelous\nmarquetry of many and wondrously harmonious colors.\n\nIn one wall was the entrance leading to another chamber.  It was\nscreened by a slowly swaying curtain of broidered linen, which was tied\nat its upper corners to brass rings sunk in the stone frame of the\ndoor.  This frame attracted the attention of the young sculptor.  It\nconsisted of two caryatides standing out from the square shaft from\nwhich they were carved, their erect heads barely touching the ceiling.\nThe figures were of heroic size and wore the repose and dignity of\ncountenance characteristic of Egyptian statues.  The sculptor had been\nso successful in bringing out this expression that Kenkenes stood\nbefore them and groaned because he had not followed nature to the\nexquisite achievement he might have attained.\n\nHe was deeply interested in his critical examination of the figures\nwhen the old priest darted into the apartment, his withered face\nworking with excitement.\n\n\"Go!  Go!\" he cried.  \"Eat and prepare to return to Memphis with all\nspeed.  Thine answer will await thee here to-night at the end of the\nfirst watch,--and Set be upon thee if thou delayest!\"\n\nKenkenes, startled out of speech, did obeisance and hastened from the\ntemple.\n\nThe outside air was thick with dust and intensely hot under the\nreddening glare of the sun.  It was late afternoon.  The city was still\ncrowded, the river front lined with a dense jam of people awaiting\ntransportation to the opposite shore.  Kenkenes knew that many would\nstill be there on the morrow, since the number of boats was inadequate\nto carry the multitude of passengers.\n\nHe began to think with concern upon the security of his own bari, left\nin the marsh-growth by the Nile side, north of Karnak.  He left the\nshifting crowd behind and struck across the sandy flat toward the arm\nof quiet water.  Straggling groups preceded and followed him and at the\nNile-side he came upon a number contending for the possession of his\nboat.  They were image-makers and curriers, equally matched against one\nanother, and a Nubian servitor in a striped tunic, who remained neutral\nthat he might with safety join the winning party.  The appearance of\nthe nobleman checked hostilities and the contestants, recognizing the\npaternalism of rank after the manner of the lowly, called upon him to\narbitrate.\n\n\"The boat is mine, children,\" [3] was his quiet answer.  He pushed it\noff, stepped into it, and turned it broadside to them.\n\n\"See here, the scarab of Ptah,\" he said, tapping the bow with a paddle,\n\"and the name of Memphis?\"  With that he drew away to the sandbar\nbefore the astonished men had realized the turn of events.  Then they\nlooked at one another in silence or muttered their disgust; but the\nNubian went into transports of rage, making such violent demonstrations\nthat the image-makers and curriers turned on him and bade him cease.\n\nAt the Libyan shore Kenkenes gave his bari into the hands of a\nriver-man and by a liberal fee purchased its security from\nconfiscation.  Then he turned his face toward the center of the western\nsuburb of Thebes Diospolis.  He had the larger palace of Rameses II in\nview and he walked briskly, as one who goes forward to meet pleasure.\nOnly once, when he passed the palace and temple of the Incomparable\nPharaoh, which stood at the mouth of the Valley of the Kings, he\nfrowned in discontent.  Far up the tortuous windings of this gorge was\nthe tomb of the great Rameses and there had the precious signet been\nlost.  As he looked at the high red ridge through which this crevice\nled, he remembered his father's emphatic prohibition and bit his lip.\nThereafter, throughout a great part of his walk, he railed mentally\nagainst the useless loss of a most propitious opportunity.\n\nTo the first resplendent member of the retinue at Meneptah's palace,\nwho cast one glance at the fillet the sculptor wore, and bent suavely\nbefore him, Kenkenes stated his mission.  The retainer bowed again and\ncalled a rosy page hiding in the dusk of the corridor.\n\n\"Go thou to the apartments of my Lord Hotep and tell him a visitor\nawaits him in his chamber of guests.\"\n\nThe lad slipped away and the retainer led Kenkenes into a long chamber\nnear the end of the corridor.  The hall had been darkened to keep out\nthe glare of the day, air being admitted only through a slatted blind\nagainst which a shrub in the court outside beat its waxen leaves.\nBefore his eyes had become accustomed to the dusk Kenkenes heard\nfootsteps coming down the outer passage, with now and then the light\nand brisk scrape of the sandal toe on the polished floor.  The young\nsculptor smiled at the excited throb of his heart.  The new-comer\nentered the hall and drew up the shutter.  The brilliant flood of light\nrevealed to him the tall figure of the sculptor rising from his\nchair--to the sculptor the trim presence of the royal scribe.\n\nThe friends had not met in six years.\n\nFor a space long enough for recognition to dawn upon the scribe, he\nstood motionless and then with an exclamation of extravagant delight he\nseized his friend and embraced him with woman-like emotion.\n\n\n[1] Undertakers--embalmers, an unclean class.\n\n[2] Punt--Arabia.\n\n[3] The oriental master calls his servants \"children.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE HEIR TO THE THRONE\n\nLoi was not present at the sunset prayers in Karnak.  An hour before he\nhad summoned the trustiest priest in the brotherhood of ministers to\nAmen and bade him conduct the ceremonies of the evening.  Then he sent\nto the temple stores, put into service another boat and was ferried\nover to the Libyan suburb of Thebes.  He had himself borne in a litter\nto the greater palace of Rameses II, and asked an audience with\nMeneptah.\n\nThe king was at prayers in the temple of his father, close to the\npalace, and the dusk of twilight was settling on the valley of the\nNile, before Loi was summoned to the council chamber.\n\nThe hall he entered was vast and full of deep shadows.  The two windows\nset in one wall, many feet above the floor, showed two spaces of\ndarkening sky.  A single torch of aromatics flared and hissed beside\nthe throne dais.  Tremendous wainscoting covered the base of the walls,\nmore than a foot above a man's height.  It was massively carved with\ncolossal sheaves of lotus-blooms and sword-like palm-leaves.  Columns\nof great girth, bouquets of conventional stamens, ending in foliated\ncapitals, supported by the lofty ceiling.  The few men gathered in\ncouncil were surrounded, over-shadowed, and dwarfed by monumental\nstrength and solemnity.\n\nBehind a solid panel of carved cedar, which hedged the royal dais,\nstood Meneptah.  Above his head were the intricate drapings of a canopy\nof gold tissue.  On a level with his eyes, at his side, was the single\ntorch.  His vision, like his father's, was defective.  He was forty\nyears old, but appeared to be younger.  His person was plump, and in\nstature he was shorter than the average Egyptian.  His coloring was\nhigh and of uniform tint.  The arch of the brow, and the conspicuous\ndistance between it and the eye below, the disdainful tension of the\nnostril and the drooping corners of the mouth, gave his face the\ninjured expression of a spoiled child.  The lips were of similar\nfullness and the chin retreated.  There was refinement in his face, but\nno force nor modicum of perception.\n\nBelow, with the light of the torch wavering up and down his robust\nfigure, was Har-hat, Meneptah's greatest general and now the new\nfan-bearer.  In repose his face was expressive of great good-humor.\nMerriment lighted his eyes and the cut of his mouth was for laughter.\nBut the smile seemed to be set and, furthermore, indicated that the\nfan-bearer found much mirth in the discomfiture of others.  Aside from\nthis undefined atmosphere of heartlessness, it can not be said that\nthere was any craft or wickedness patent on his face, for his features\nwere good and indicative of unusual intelligence.  To the unobservant,\nhe seemed to be a lovable, useful, able man.  However, we have seen\nwhat Mentu thought of him, and Mentu's estimation might have\nrepresented that of all profound thinkers.  But to the latter class,\nmost assuredly, Meneptah did not belong.\n\nHar-hat, taking the place of the king during the Rebu war, had\ndisplayed such generalship that the Pharaoh had rewarded him at the\nfirst opportunity with the highest office, except the regency, at his\ncommand.\n\nTo the king's right, beside the dais, with a hand resting on the back\nof a cathedra, or great chair, was the crown prince, Rameses.  The old\ncourtiers of the dead grandsire, visiting the court of Meneptah, flung\nup their hands and gasped when they beheld the heir to the double crown\nof Egypt.  They looked upon the old Pharaoh, renewed in youth and\nstrength.  There were the same narrow temples with the sloping brow,\nthe same hawked nose, the same full lips, the same heavy eye with the\nsmoldering ember in its dusky depths.  The only radical dissimilarity\nwas the hue of the prince's complexion.  It was a strange, un-Egyptian\npallor, an opaque whiteness with dark shadows that belied the testimony\nof vigor in his sinewy frame.\n\nThe old courtiers that were still attached to the court of Meneptah\nwatched with fascination the development of the heir's character.  He\nwas twenty-two years old now and had proved that no alien nature had\nbeen housed in the old Pharaoh's shape.  If any pointed out the\nprince's indolence as proving him unlike his grandsire the old\ncourtiers shook their heads and said: \"He does not reign as yet and he\nbut saves his forces till the crown is his.\"  So Egypt, stagnated at\nthe pinnacle of power by the accession of Meneptah, began to look\nforward secretly to the reign of Rameses the Younger, with a hope that\nwas half terror.\n\nTo-night he stood in semi-dusk robed in festal attire, for somewhere a\nrout awaited him.  And of the groups of power and rank about him, none\nseemed to fit that majestic council chamber so well as he.  It was not\nthe robe of costly stuffs he wore, nor the trappings of jewels, which\nif he moved never so slightly emitted a shower of frosty sparks--but a\npeculiar emanation of magnetism that at once repelled and attracted,\nand made him master over the monarch himself.  He had never met repulse\nor defeat; he had never entered the presence of his peer; he had never\nloved, he had never prayed.  He was a solitary power, who admitted\ndeath as his only equal, and defied even him.\n\nThe other counselors were minor members of the cabinet, who had been\nsummoned, but expected only to hear and keep silence while the great\npowers--the king, the prince, the priest and the fan-bearer--conferred.\n\nLoi entered, bowing and walking with palsied step.  At one time the\nthree central figures of the hall had been his pupils.  He had taught\nthem from the simplest hieratic catechism to the initiation into the\nmysteries.  As novices they had kissed his hand and borne him\nreverence.  Now as the initiated, exalted through the acquisition of\npower, it lay with them to reverse conditions if they pleased.  But as\nthe old prelate prepared to do obeisance before Meneptah, he was stayed\nwith a gesture, and after a word of greeting was dismissed to his\nplace.  Rameses saluted him with a motion of his hand and Har-hat bowed\nreverently.  The pontiff backed away to the great council table set\nopposite the throne and was met there by a courtier with a chair.\n\nAt a sign from the king, who had already sunk into his throne, the old\nman sat.\n\n\"Thou bringest us tidings, holy Father?\"\n\n\"Even so, O Son of Ptah.\"\n\n\"Say on.\"\n\nThe priest moved a little uncomfortably and glanced at the ministers\ngrouped in the shadows.\n\n\"Save for the worthy Har-hat and our prince, O my King, thou hast no\nneed of great council,\" he said.\n\nMeneptah raised his hand and the supernumerary ministers left the\nchamber.  When they were gone, Loi unwrapped the roll Kenkenes had\nbrought and began to read:\n\n\n\"To Loi, the most high Servant of Amen, Lord of Tape, the Servant of\nRa, at On, sends greeting:\n\n\"The gods lend me composure to speak calmly with thee, O Brother.  And\nlet the dismay which is mine explain the lack of ceremony in this\nwriting.\n\n\"It is not likely that thou hast forgotten the good Queen Neferari\nThermuthis' foster-son--the Hebrew Mesu, whom she found adrift in a\nbasket on Nilus.  But lest the years have driven the memory of his\nmisdeeds from thy mind, I tell again the story.  Thou knowest he was\ninitiated a priest of Isis, and scarce had the last of the mysteries\nbeen disclosed to him, ere it was seen that the brotherhood had taken\nan apostate unto itself.\n\n\"By the grace of the gods, he interfered in a brawl at Pithom and\nkilled an Egyptian.  Before he could be taken he fled into Midian, and\nthe secrets of our order were safe, for a time.\n\n\"One by one our fellows have entered Osiris.  The young who knew not\nhave filled their places.  Thou and I, only, are left--and the Hebrew!\n\n\"He hath returned!\n\n\"The gods make strong our hands against him!  He went away as a menace,\nbut he returneth as a pestilence.  The demons of Amend are with him,\nand his hour is most propitious.  He hath sunk himself in the\nIsraelitish pool here in the north, and he will breathe therefrom such\nvapors as may destroy Egypt--faith--state--all!\n\n\"The bond-people are already in ferment.  There was mutiny at Pa-Ramesu\nrecently, when three hundred were chosen to work the quarries.\nMoreover, the taskmasters are corrupt.  The commander, one Atsu by\nname, appointed when the chief Merenra became nomarch over Bubastis,\nhath disarmed the under-drivers, removed the women from toil and\nrestored many privileges which are ruinous to law and order.  The whole\nDelta is in commotion.  The nomad tribes near the Goshen country are\nagitated; communities of Egyptian shepherds have been won over to the\nHebrew's cause, and now the Israelitish renegade needs but to betray\nthe secrets to bring such calamity upon Egypt as never befell a nation.\n\n\"But, Brother, he is within reach of an avenging hand!  Commission us,\nI pray thee, to protect the mysteries after any manner that to us\nseemeth good.\n\n\"Despatch is urgent.  He may fly again.  Give us thine answer as we\nhave sent this to thee--by a nobleman--a swift and trusty one, and the\nblessings of the Radiant Three be upon thy head.\n\n\"Thy servant, the Servant of Ra,\n\n\"Snofru.\"\n\n\nWhen the priest finished, the king was sitting upright, his face\nflushed with feeling.\n\n\"Sedition!\" he exclaimed; \"organized rebellion in the very heart of my\nrealm!\"\n\nHe paused for a space and thrust back the heavy fringes of his cowl\nwith a gesture of peevish impatience.\n\n\"What evil humor possesses Egypt?\" he burst forth irritably.  \"Hardly\nhave I overthrown an invader before my people break out.  I quiet them\nin one place and they revolt in another.  Must I turn a spear upon mine\nown?\"\n\n\"Well,\" he cried, stamping his foot, when the three before him kept\nsilence, \"have ye no word to say?\"\n\nHis eyes rested on Har-hat, with an imperious expectation in them.  The\nfan-bearer bent low before he answered.\n\n\"With thy gracious permission, O Son of Ptah,\" he said, \"I would\nsuggest that it were wise to cool an insurrection in the simmering.\nThe disaffection seems to be of great extent.  But the Rameside army\nassembled on the ground might check an open insurrection.  Furthermore,\nthou hast seen the salutary effect of thy visit to Tape when she forgot\nher duty to her sovereign.  Thy presence in the Delta would undoubtedly\nexpedite the suppression of the rebellion likewise.\"\n\n\"O, aye,\" Meneptah declared.  \"I must go to Tanis.  It seems that I\nmust hasten hither and thither over Egypt pursuing sedition like a\nscent-hunting jackal.  Mayhap if I were divided like Osiris[1] and a\nbit of me scattered in each nome, I might preserve peace.  But it goes\nsore against me to drag the army with me.  Hast thou any simpler plan\nto offer, holy Father?\"\n\nThe old priest shifted a little before he answered.\n\n\"The mysteries of the faith are in possession of Mesu,\" he began at\nlast.  \"The writing saith he hath exerted great influence over the\nbond-people--in truth he hath entered a peaceful land and stirred it\nup--and time is but needed to bring the unrest to open warfare.  Thou,\nO Meneptah, and thou, O Rameses, and thou, O Har-hat, each being of the\nbrotherhood--ye know that we hold the faith by scant tenure in the\nrespect of the people.  Ye know the perversity of humanity.  Obedience\nand piety are not in them.  Though they never knew a faith save the\nfaith of their fathers, we must pursue them with a gad, tickle them\nwith processions and awe them with manifestations.  So if it were to\ncome over the spirit of this Hebrew to betray the mysteries, to scout\nthe faith and overturn the gods, he would have rabble Egypt following\nat his heels.\n\n\"As the writing saith, he hath the destruction of the state in mind,\nand his own aggrandizement.  He but beginneth on the faith because he\nseeth in that a rift wherein to put the lever that shall pry the whole\nstate asunder.  So with two and a half millions of Hebrews and a horde\nof renegade Egyptians to combat, I fear the Rameside army might spill\nmore good blood than is worth wasting on a mongrel multitude.  The\nrabble without a leader is harmless.  Cut off the head of the monster,\nand there is neither might nor danger in the trunk.  Put away Mesu, and\nthe insurrection will subside utterly.\"\n\nThe priest paused and Meneptah stroked the polished coping of the panel\nbefore him with a nervous hand.  There was complete silence for a\nmoment, broken at last by the king.\n\n\"Mesu, though a Hebrew, an infidel and a malefactor, is a prince of the\nrealm, my foster-brother--Neferari's favorite son.  I can not rid\nmyself of him on provocation as yet misty and indirect.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" he added after another pause, \"he shall not die by hand of\nmine.\"  The prelate raised his head and met the eyes of the king.\nAfter he read what lay therein, the dissatisfaction that had begun to\nshow on his ancient face faded.\n\nThe Pharaoh settled back into his seat and his brow cleared as if the\nproblem had been settled.  But suddenly he sat up.\n\n\"What have I profited by this council?  Shall I take the army or leave\nit distributed over Egypt?\"  He stopped abruptly and turned to the\ncrown prince.  \"Help us, my Rameses,\" he said in a softer tone.  \"We\nhad well-nigh forgotten thee.\"\n\nRameses raised himself from the back of his cathedra, against which he\nlounged, and moved a step forward.\n\n\"A word, my father,\" he said calmly.  \"Thy perplexity hath not been\nuntangled for thee, nor even a thread pulled which shall start it\nraveling.  The priesthood can kill Mesu,\" he said to Loi, \"and it will\ndo them no hurt.  And thou, my father, canst countenance it and seem no\nworse than any other monarch that loved his throne.  Thus ye will\ndecapitate the monster.  But there be creatures in the desert which,\nlosing one head, grow another.  Mesu is not of such exalted or\nsupernatural villainy that they can not fill his place.  Wilt thou\nexecute Israel one by one as it raises up a leader against thee?  Nay;\nand wilt thou play the barbarian and put two and a half million at once\nto the sword?\"\n\nThe trio looked uncomfortable, none more so than the Pharaoh.  The\nprince went on mercilessly.\n\n\"Are the Hebrews warriors?  Wouldst thou go against a host of\ntrowel-wielding slaves with an army that levels lances only against\nfree-born men?  And yet, wilt thou wait till all Israel shall crowd\ninto thy presence and defy thee before thou actest?  And again, wilt\nthou descend on them with arms now when they may with Justice cry 'What\nhave we done to thee?'  Thou art beset, my father.\"\n\nThe Pharaoh opened his lips as if to answer, but the level eye of the\nprince silenced him.\n\n\"Thou hast not fathomed the Hebrew's capabilities, my father,\" Rameses\ncontinued.  \"In him is a wealth, a power, a magnificence that thy\nfathers and mine built up for thee, and the time is ripe for the\ngarnering of thy profit.  What monarch of the sister nations hath two\nand a half millions of hereditary slaves--not tributary folk nor\nprisoners of war--but slaves that are his as his cattle and his flocks\nare his?  What monarch before thee had them?  None anywhere, at any\ntime.  Thou art rich in bond-people beyond any monarch since the gods\nreigned.\"\n\nThe chagrin died on the Pharaoh's face and he wore an expectant look.\nThe prince continued in even tones.\n\n\"By use, they have fitted themselves to the limits laid upon them by\nthe great Rameses.  The feeble have died and the frames of the sturdy\nhave become like brass.  They have bred like beetles in the Nile mud\nfor numbers.  Ignorant of their value, thou hast been indifferent to\ntheir existence.  Forgetting them was pampering them.  They have lived\non the bounty of Egypt for four hundred years and, save for the wise\ninflictions of a year or two by the older Pharaohs, they have\nflourished unmolested.  How they repay thee, thou seest by this\nwriting.  Now, by the gods, turn the face of a master upon them.\nRemove the soft driver, Atsu, and put one in his stead who is worthy\nthe office.  Tickle them to alacrity and obedience with the lash--yoke\nthem--load them--fill thy canals, thy quarries, thy mines with them--\"\nHe broke off and moved forward a step squarely facing the Pharaoh.\n\n\"Thou hast thine artist--that demi-god Mentu, in whom there is\nsupernatural genius for architecture as well as sculpture.  Make him\nthy murket[2] as well, and with him dost thou know what thou canst do\nwith these slaves?  Thou canst rear Karnak in every herdsman's village;\nthou canst carve the twin of Ipsambul in every rock-front that faces\nthe Nile; thou canst erect a pyramid tomb for thee that shall make an\ninfant of Khufu; thou canst build a highway from Syene to Tanis and\nline it with sisters of the Sphinx; thou canst write the name of\nMeneptah above every other name on the world's monuments and it shall\nendure as long as stone and bronze shall last and tradition go on from\nlip to lip!\"\n\nThe prince paused abruptly.  Meneptah was on his feet, almost in tears\nat the contemplation of his pictured greatness.\n\n\"Mark ye!\" the prince began again.  His arm shot out and fell and the\nflash of its jewels made it look like a bolt of lightning.  \"I would\nnot fall heir to Israel--and if these things are done in thy lifetime I\nmust build my monuments with prisoners of war!\"\n\nThe old hierarch, who had been nervously rubbing the arm of his chair\nduring the last of the prince's speech, broke the dead silence with an\nawed whisper.\n\n\"Ah, then spake the Incomparable Pharaoh!\"\n\nMeneptah put out his hand, smiling.\n\n\"No more.  The way is shown, I follow, O my Rameses!\"\n\n\n\n[1] Osiris--the great god of Egypt, was overcome by Set, his body\ndivided and scattered over the valley of the Nile.  Isis, wife of\nOsiris, gathered up the remains and buried them at This or Abydos.\n\n[2] Murket--the royal architect, an exalted office usually held by\nprinces of the realm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE LADY MIRIAM\n\nMeanwhile the scribe of the \"double house of life,\" and the son of the\nroyal sculptor were taking comfort on the palace-top beneath the subdued\nlight of a hooded lamp.\n\nThe pair had spoken of all Memphis and its gossip; had given account of\nthemselves and had caught up with the present time in the succession of\nevents.\n\n\"Hotep, at thy lofty notch of favor, one must have the wisdom of Toth,\"\nKenkenes observed, adding with a laugh, \"mark thou, I have compared thee\nwith no mortal.\"\n\nHotep shook his head.\n\n\"Nay, any man may fill my position so he but knows when to hold his\ntongue and what to say when he wags it.\"\n\n\"O, aye,\" the sculptor admitted in good-natured irony.  \"Those be simple\nqualifications and easy to combine.\"\n\nThe scribe smiled.\n\n\"Mine is no arduous labor now.  During my years of apprenticeship I was\nsorely put to it, but now I have only to wait upon the king and look to\nit that mine underlings are not idle.  If another war should come--if any\nmanner of difficulty should arise in matters of state, I doubt not mine\nwould be a heavy lot.\"\n\nThe young man spoke of war and fellowship with a monarch as if he had\nbeen a lady's page and gossiped of fans and new perfumes.\n\nKenkenes looked at him with a full realization of the incongruity of the\nyouth of the man and the weight of the office that was his.\n\nBut at close range the scribe's face was young only in feature and tint.\nHe was born of an Egyptian and a Danaid, and the blond alien mother had\nimpressed her own characteristics very strongly on her son.\n\nHe had a plump figure with handsome curves, waving, chestnut hair and a\nfair complexion.  Nose and forehead were in line.  The eyes were of that\ntype of gray that varies in shade with the mental state.  His temper\ndisplayed itself only in their sudden hardening into the hue of steel;\ncontent and happiness made them blue.  They were always steady and\ncomprehending, so that whoever entered his presence for the first time\nsaid to himself: \"Here is a man that discovers my very soul.\"\n\nWhatever other blunder Meneptah might have made, he had redeemed himself\nin the wisdom he displayed in choosing his scribe.  Kenkenes had been led\nto ask how Hotep had come to his place.\n\n\"My superior, Pinem, died without a son,\" the scribe had explained; \"and\nas my record was clean, and the princes had ever been my patrons, the\nPharaoh exalted me to the scribeship.\"\n\nKenkenes had then set down a mark in favor of the princes.\n\n\"I doubt not,\" the scribe observed at last, \"that my time of ease is\nshort-lived.\"\n\nThe sculptor looked at him with inquiry in his eyes.\n\n\"When sedition arises and defies the Pharaoh in his audience chamber,\"\nHotep went on, \"it has reached the stage of a single alternative--success\nor death.  Dost know the Lady Miriam?\"\n\n\"The Israelite?\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"I saw her this day.\"\n\n\"Good.  Now, look upon the scene.  Thou knowest she is the sister of\nPrince Mesu, and the favorite waiting-woman of the good Queen Thermuthis.\nShe has lived in obscurity for forty years, but this morning she swept\ninto the audience chamber, did majestic obeisance and besought a word\n'with him who was an infant in her maturity,' she said.  The council\nchamber was filled with those gathered to welcome Har-hat.  Meneptah bade\nher speak.  Hast thou ever heard an Israelitish harangue?\" he broke off\nsuddenly.\n\nKenkenes shook his head.\n\n\"Ah, theirs is pristine oratory--occult eloquence,\" the scribe said\nearnestly, \"and she is mistress of the art.  She told the history of\nIsrael and catalogued its wrongs in a manner that lacked only measure and\nmusic to make it a song.  But, Kenkenes, she did not move us to\ncompunction and pity.  When she had done, we had not looked on a picture\nof suffering and oppression, but of insulted pride and rebellion.\nInstead of compunction, she awakened admiration, instead of pity,\nrespect.  For the moment she represented, not a multitude of complaining\nslaves, but a race of indignant peers.\n\n\"Meneptah--ah! the good king,\" the scribe went on, \"was impressed like\nthe rest of us.  But finally he showed her that the Israelites were what\nthey were by the consent of the gods; that their unwillingness but\nincreased the burden.  He pointed out the example of his illustrious\nsires as justification for his course; enumerated some of their\nprivileges,--the fertile country given them by Egypt, and the freedom\nthat was theirs to worship their own God,--and summarily refused to\nindulge them further.\n\n\"Then she became ominous.  She bade him have a care for the welfare of\nEgypt before he refused her.  Her words were dark and full of evil\nportent.  The air seemed to winnow with bat-wings and to reek with vapors\nfrom witch-potions and murmur with mystic formulas.  Every man of us\ncrept, and drew near to his neighbor.  When she paused for an answer, the\nking hesitated.  She had menaced Egypt and it stirreth the heart of the\nfather when the child is threatened.  He turned to Har-hat in his\nperplexity and craved his counsel.  The fan-bearer laughed good-naturedly\nand begged the Pharaoh's permission to send her to the mines before she\nbewitched his cattle and troubled him with visions.  Har-hat's unconcern\nmade men of us all once more, but Meneptah shook his head.  'The name of\nNeferari Thermuthis defends her,' he said; 'let her go hence'.\"\n\n\"'And I take no amelioration to my people?' she demanded.  'Nay,' he\nreplied, 'not in the smallest part shall their labor be lessened.'\n\n\"Holy Isis, thou shouldst have seen her then, Kenkenes!\n\n\"She approached the very dais of the throne and, throwing up her arms,\nflung her defiance into the face of her sovereign.  It were treason to\nutter her words again.  I have seen men white and shaking from rage, but\nMeneptah never hath so much of temper to display.  Far be it from me to\nsay that the king was afraid, but I tell you, Kenkenes, mine own hair is\nnot yet content to lie flat.  She concentrated all the denunciatory\nbitterness of the tongue and pronounced and gloried in the doom of the\ndynasty, heaping the blame of its destruction upon the head of Meneptah!\"\n\nThe scribe finished his story in a whisper.  Kenkenes was by this time\nsitting up, his eyes shining with interest and wonder.\n\n\"Gods!  Hotep, thou dost make me creep.\"\n\n\"Creep!\" the scribe responded heartily, \"never in my life have I so\nwanted to flee a royal audience.  When she had done, she turned and swept\nfrom the presence and no man lifted a finger to stay her.\"\n\nFor a moment there was an expressive silence between the two young men.\nAt last Kenkenes broke it in a voice of intense admiration.\n\n\"What an intrepid spirit!  Small wonder that she did not heed the\ncondemnation of the rabble at mid-day--she who was fresh from a triumph\nover the Pharaoh!\"\n\nHotep's eyes widened warningly and he shook his head.\n\n\"Nay, hush me not, Hotep,\" Kenkenes went on in a reckless whisper.  \"I\nmust say it.  Would to the gods I had been there to copy it in stone!\"\n\n\"Hush! babbler!\" the scribe exclaimed, his eyes twinkling nevertheless,\n\"thine art will make an untimely mummy of thee yet.\"\n\nKenkenes poured out his first glass of wine and set it down untasted.\nThe contemplated sacrilege in stone opposite Memphis confronted him.\n\n\"If Egypt's lack of art does not kill me first,\" he added in defense.\n\n\"Nay,\" Hotep protested, \"why wouldst thou perpetuate the affront to the\nPharaoh?\"\n\n\"Because it is history and a better delineation of the Israelitish\ncharacter than all the wordy chronicles of the historians could depict,\"\nwas the spirited reply.\n\n\"But the ritual,\" Hotep began, with the assurance of a man that feels he\nis armed with unanswerable argument.\n\n\"Sing me no song of the ritual,\" Kenkenes broke in impatiently.  \"The\nritual offends mine ears--my sight, my sense.  We have quarreled beyond\nany treaty-making--ever.\"\n\nThe other looked at him with amazement and much consternation.\n\n\"Art thou mad?\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Nay, but I am rebellious--as rebellious as the Israelite, for I have\nalready shaken my fist in the face of the sculptor's canons.  And the\ntime will come when the world will call my revolt just.  I would there\nwere a chronicler, here, now, to write me down, since I would be\nremembered as the pioneer.  I shall win no justification, in these days,\nperhaps only persecution, but I would reap my reward of honor, though it\nbe a thousand years in coming.\"\n\n\"Thou hast a grudge against the conventional forms and the rules of the\nritual?\" Hotep asked, after a thoughtful silence.\n\n\"I have a distaste for the horrors it compels and am ignorant of their\nuse,\" Kenkenes answered stubbornly.\n\n\"Kenkenes,\" the scribe began, \"Law is a most inexorable thing.  It is the\ngovernor of the Infinite.  It is a tyrant, which, good or bad, can demand\nand enforce obedience to its fiats.  It is a capricious thing and it\ndrags its vassal--the whole created world--after it in its mutations, or\nstamps the rebel into the dust while the time-serving obedient ones\napplaud.  So thou hast set up resistance against a thing greater than\ngods and men and I can not see thee undone.  I love thee, but I should be\nan untrue friend did I abet thee in thy lawlessness.  Submit gracefully\nand thy cause shall have an audience with Law some day--if it have merit.\"\n\nThe young sculptor's face was passive, but his eyes were fixed sadly on\nthe remote stars strewn above him.  He felt inexpressibly solitary.  His\nzest in his convictions did not flag, but it seemed that the whole world\nand the heavens had receded and left him alone with them.\n\nAgain Hotep spoke.\n\n\"There is more court gossip,\" he began cheerily, as if no word had been\nsaid that could depress the tone of the conversation.\n\nKenkenes accepted the new subject gladly.\n\n\"Out with it,\" he said.  \"Within the four walls of my world I hear naught\nbut the clink of mallet and falling stone.\"\n\n\"The breach between Meneptah and Amon-meses, his mutinous brother, may be\nhealed by a wedding.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"Of a surety--nay, and not of a surety, either, but mayhap.  A match\nbetween the niece of Amon-meses, the Princess Ta-user, and the heir,\nRameses.\"\n\nKenkenes sat up again in his earnestness.  \"Nay,\" he exclaimed.  \"Never!\"\n\n\"Wherefore, I pray thee?\" Hotep asked with a deprecating smile.\n\n\"There is no mating between the lion and the eagle; the stag and the asp!\nThey could not love.\"\n\n\"Thou dreamy idealist!\" Hotep laughed.  \"The half of great marriages are\nmoves of strategy, attended more by Set[1] than Athor.[2]  Ta-user is mad\nfor the crown, Rameses for undisputed power.  Each has one of these two\ndesirable things to give the other.\"\n\n\"And how shall they appease Athor?\" Kenkenes demanded warmly.  \"Ta-user\nloves Siptah, the son of Amon-meses, and Rameses will crown whom he loves\nthough he had a thousand other crown-loving, treaty-dowered wives!\"\n\nHotep smiled.  \"I thought the four walls of thy world hedged thee, but it\nseems thou art right well acquainted with royalty.\"\n\n\"Scoff!\" Kenkenes cried.  \"But I can tell thee this: Rameses will put his\nfoot on the neck of Amon-meses if the pretender trouble him, and will wed\nwith a slave-girl if she break the armor over his iron heart.\"\n\nHotep laughed again and suggested another subject.\n\n\"The new fan-bearer,\" he began.\n\n\"Nay, what of him?\" Kenkenes broke in at once.\n\n\"And shall we quarrel about him, also?\"\n\n\"Dost thou know him?\" Hotep queried.\n\n\"Right well--from afar and by hearsay.\"\n\n\"Do thou express thyself first concerning him, and I shall treat thee to\nthe courtier's diplomacy if I agree not.\"\n\n\"I like him not,\" Kenkenes responded bluntly.\n\nHotep leaned toward him, with the smile gone from his face, the jest from\nhis manner, and laid his hand on the sculptor's.  The pressure spoke\neloquently of hearty concord.  \"But he has a charming daughter,\" he said.\n\nKenkenes inspected his friend's face critically, but there was nothing to\nbe read thereon.\n\nA palace attendant approached across the paved roof and bent before the\nscribe.\n\n\"A summons from the Son of Ptah, my Lord,\" he said.\n\n\"At this hour?\" Hotep said in some surprise as he arose.  \"I shall return\nimmediately,\" he told Kenkenes.\n\n\"Nay,\" the sculptor observed, \"my time is nearly gone.  Let me depart\nnow.\"\n\n\"Not so.  I would go with thee.  This will be no more than a note.  If it\nbe more I shall put mine underlings to the task.\"\n\nHe disappeared in the dark.  Kenkenes lay back on the divan and thought\non the many things that the scribe had told him.  But chiefly he pondered\non Har-hat and the Israelite.\n\nWhen Hotep returned he carried his cowl and mantle, and a scroll.  \"I\ntoo, am become a messenger,\" he said, \"but I am self-appointed.  This\nnote was to go by a palace courier, but I relieved him of the task.\"\n\nThe pair made ready and departed through the still populous streets of\nThebes to the Nile.  There they were ferried over to the wharves of Luxor.\n\nAt the temple the porter conducted them into the chamber in which the\nancient prelate spent his shortening hours of labor.  He was there now,\nat his table, and greeted the young men with a nod.  But taking a second\nlook at Hotep, he beckoned him with a shaking finger.\n\n\"Didst bring me aught, my son?\" he asked as the scribe bent over him.\n\n\"Aye, holy Father; this message to the taskmaster over Pa-Ramesu.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" the old man said.  \"Is that not yet gone?\"\n\n\"Nay, the Pharaoh asks that thou insert the name of him whom thou didst\nrecommend for Atsu's place.  The Son of Ptah had forgotten him.\"\n\nThe old man pushed several scrolls aside and prepared to make the\naddition..\n\n\"But thou art weary, holy Father; let me do it,\" Hotep protested gently.\n\n\"Nay, nay, I can do it,\" the old man insisted.  \"See!\" drawing forth a\nscroll unaddressed, \"I have written all this in an hour.  O aye, I can\nwrite with the young men yet.\"  He made the interlineation, rolled the\nscroll and sealed it.  \"I am sturdy, still.\"  At that moment, he dropped\nhis pen on the floor and bent to pick it up, but was forestalled by\nHotep.  Then he addressed the scrolls, carefully dried the ink with a\nsprinkling of sand and delivered one to Hotep, the other to Kenkenes.\n\"This to the king, and that to Snofru.  The gods give thee safe journey,\"\nhe continued to Kenkenes.  \"Who art thou, my son?\"\n\n\"I am the son of Mentu, holy Father.  My name is Kenkenes,\" the young man\nanswered.\n\n\"Mentu, the royal sculptor?\"\n\nKenkenes bowed.\n\n\"Nay, but I am glad.  I knew thy father, and since thou art of his blood,\nthou art faithful.  Let neither death nor fear overtake thee, for thou\nhast the peace of Egypt in thy very hands.  Fail not, I charge thee!\"\n\nAfter a reverent farewell, the two young men went forth.\n\nA slender Egyptian youth went with them to the wharves and awakened the\nsleeping crew of a bari.\n\nHotep they carried across and set ashore on the western side.\n\n\"May the same favoring god that brought thee hither, grant thee a safe\njourney home, my friend.  The court comes to Memphis shortly.  Till then,\nfarewell,\" said Hotep.\n\n\"All Memphis will hail her illustrious son, O Hotep.  Farewell.\"\n\nIt was not long until the sculptor was drifting down toward Memphis under\na starry sky--the shadowy temples of Thebes hidden by the sudden\nclosing-in of the river-hills about her.\n\n\n\n[1] Set--the war-god.\n\n[2] Athor--the Egyptian Venus; the feminine love-deity.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nATHOR, THE GOLDEN\n\nAt sunrise the morning after his return from On, Kenkenes appeared at\nthe Nile, attended by a burden-bearing slave.\n\nThe first lean, brown boatman who touched his knee and offered his bari\nfor hire, Kenkenes patronized.  The slave had eased his load into the\nboat and Kenkenes was on the point of embarking when a four-oared bari,\nwhich had passed them like the wind a moment before, put about several\nrods above them and returned to the group on shore.\n\nA bent and withered servitor was standing in the bow of the boat,\nwildly gesticulating, as if he feared Kenkenes would insist on pulling\naway despite his efforts.  The young man recognized the servant of\nSnofru, old Ranas.\n\nThe large bari was beached and the servitor alighted with agility and,\nbeckoning to Kenkenes, took him aside.\n\n\"There has been an error--a grave error, concerning the message,\" the\nold man began in excitement; \"but thou art in no wise at fault.  Yet\nmayhap thou canst aid us in unraveling the tangle.  See!\"\n\nHe displayed the linen-wrapped roll, the covering split where Snofru\nhad opened it, but the wavering hieratic characters of the address in\nLoi's hand, still intact.\n\nWhen the young sculptor had gazed, the old servant nervously undid the\nroll, and showed within a letter to the commander over Pa-Ramesu,\nwritten in the strong epistolary symbols of the royal scribe.\n\nKenkenes frowned with vexation.  Innocent and efficient though he had\nbeen, the miscarriage of his mission stung him nevertheless.  The\nblunder was not long a mystery to him.\n\nSummoning all the patience at his command, he recounted the events in\nthe apartments of the ancient hierarch of Amen.\n\n\"There were two Scrolls,\" he explained; \"one to the Servant of Ra at\nOn, the other to Atsu.  The holy father sealed them both before he\naddressed them and confused the directions.  The one which I should\nhave brought to thine august master, hath gone to the taskmaster over\nPa-Ramesu.\"\n\n\"Thou madest all speed?\" the servant demanded, trembling with eagerness.\n\n\"A half-day's journey less than the usual time I made in returning.  I\ndoubt much, if the messenger with the other scroll hath passed Memphis\nyet, since he may not have been despatched in such hot haste.\nFurthermore, because of the festivities in Tape, it would have been\nwell-nigh impossible for him to hire a boat until the next day.\"\n\nThis information kindled a light of hope on the old servant's face.\n\n\"Thou givest me life again,\" he exclaimed.  \"The blessings of Ra be\nupon thee!\"\n\nWithout further words he ran back to the boat, and the last Kenkenes\nsaw of him, he was frantically urging his boatmen to greater speed,\nback to On.\n\nKenkenes had come to the Nile that morning, rejoicing in the\npropitiousness of his opportunity.  Mentu was at that moment in On,\nseeing to the decoration of the second obelisk reared by Meneptah to\nthe sun.  The great artist had prepared to be absent a month, and had\nleft no work for his son to do.  But the coming of Ranas with the news\nof his mission's failure had filled Kenkenes with angry discomfiture.\n\nHe dismissed his slave and rowed down-stream toward Masaarah.\n\nAs he approached the abandoned wharf, a glance showed him that some\neffort toward restoring it had been made.  The overgrowth of vines had\nbeen cut away and the level of the top had been raised by several\nfragments of rough stone.\n\nThe tracks of heavy sledges had crushed the young grain across the\nfield toward the cliffs.\n\nKenkenes stood up and looked toward the terraced front of the hills, in\nwhich were the quarries.\n\nThere were dust, smoke, stir and moving figures.\n\nThe stone-pits were active again after the lapse of half a century.\n\n\"By the grace of the mutable Hathors,\" the young man muttered as he\ndropped back into his seat, \"my father may yet decorate a temple to\nSet, but by the same favor, it seems that I shall be snatched from the\nbrink of a sacrilege.\"\n\nHe permitted his boat to drift while he contemplated his predicament.\nSuddenly he smote his hands together.\n\n\"Grant me pardon, ye Seven Sisters!\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"I misread your decree.  Ye have but covered my tracks toward\ntransgression.\"\n\nAfter a little thought he resumed his felicitations.\n\n\"Who of Memphis will think I come to Masaarah, save to look after the\ntaking out of stone?  Is it not part of my craft?  Nay, but I shall\nmake offering in the temple for this.  And need any of these unhappy\ncreatures in Masaarah see me except as it pleases me to show myself?\"\n\nHe seized his oars and rowed down the river another furlong.  Leaving\nthe craft fixed in the tangle of herbage at the water's edge, he\nshouldered his cargo and crossed the narrow plain to the cliffs below\nMasaarah.  There he made a difficult ascent of the fronts facing the\nNile and reached his block of stone without approaching the hamlet of\nlaborers.\n\nDepositing his burden, he set forth to reconnoiter.  He descended again\ninto the Nile valley by the way he had come and wandered toward the\nmouth of the gorge.  From a little distance he looked upon a scene of\ngreat activity.  In the shadow of one of the dilapidated hovels, four\nhumped oxen stood, their heavy harness still hanging upon them, though\nthe sledges they drew, covered with stone dust and broken pieces, were\nsome distance away from them.  A company of half a score of children\nwere ascending in single file, along a slanting plane of planks, into\nthe hollow in the cliff upon which work had been renewed.  Along the\nrock-wall ahead of them a scaffold had been erected and here were men\ndrilling holes in the stone, or driving wooden wedges into the holes\nalready made, or pouring water on the wedges as the skins the children\nbore were passed up to them.\n\nKenkenes picked his way through the debris of sticks, stones, dust and\ncast-off water-skins, and serenely disregarding the stare of the\nlaborers, went up to the edge of the stone-pit and watched the work\nwith interest.  A constant stream of broken stone rattled down under\nthe scaffold and long runlets of water fed an ever increasing pool in\nthe depression before the cliff.  A single slab of irregular dimensions\nlay on the sand at the base of a wooden chute, down which it had\ndescended from the hollow in the cliff the evening before.  The cavity\nit left bade fair to enlarge by nightfall, for the swelling wedges were\nrending another slab from its bedding with loud reports and the sudden\netching of fissures.\n\nThe young sculptor noted with some wonder that the laborers were\nIsraelites.\n\nAfter a time Kenkenes turned away and addressed one of the bearded men\nat that moment, ascending the wooden plane.\n\n\"What do ye here?\" he asked.\n\nThe man answered in unready Egyptian, but, for an inferior, in a manner\ncuriously collected.\n\n\"The Pharaoh addeth to the burden of the chosen people.  We dig stone\nfor a temple to the war-god.\"\n\n\"The chosen people!\" Kenkenes repeated inquiringly.\n\n\"The children of Israel,\" the Hebrew explained.  Kenkenes lifted one\neyebrow quizzically and went his way.  As he leaped up into the gorge\nhe vaguely realized that he had seen no trace of an encampment near the\nhamlet, which he knew to be uninhabitable.\n\n\"Of a truth, the chosen people seem to follow me of late,\" he said to\nhimself as he rambled up the valley.  \"Meneptah must have scattered\nthem out of Goshen into all the corners of Egypt.\"\n\nAs he turned the last winding of the gorge he came upon a cluster of\nsome threescore tents, spread over the level pocket at the valley's\nend.  Almost against the northern wall the house of the commander had\nbeen built to receive the earliest shadow of the afternoon.  The\nmilitary standard was raised upon its roof and a scribe, making entries\non a roll of linen, sat cross-legged on a mat before the door.  In one\nof the narrow ways between the tents an old woman, very bowed and\nvoluminously clad, prepared a great hamper of lentils and another of\npapyrus root for the noonday meal.  One or two children sitting on the\nearth beside her rendered her assistance, and a third kept the turf\nfire glowing under a huge bubbling caldron.  Kenkenes passed through\nthe camp by this narrow way and paused to look with much curiosity at\nthe ancient Israelite.  Never had he seen any old person so active or a\nslave so wrapped in covering.  He hoped she would lift her head that he\nmight see her face; and even as he wished, she pierced him with a look\nwhich, from her midnight eyes, seemed like lightning from a\nthunder-cloud.\n\n\"Gods!\" he exclaimed as he retreated up the slope behind the camp.  And\na moment later he continued his soliloquy in a voice that struggled\nbetween mirth and amazement: \"Have I never seen an Israelite until I\nbeheld these twain, the Lady Miriam and that bent dart of lightning in\nthe valley?  If these be Israelites I never saw one before.  If those\ncowed shepherds that have strayed now and again out of Goshen be\nHebrews, then these are not.  And the gods shield me from the disfavor\nof them, be they slaves or sibyls!\"\n\nWhen he reached his block of stone he unrolled his load of equipments\nand set to work without delay.  He was remote from any possible\ninterruption from Memphis, and the slaves in the gorge and in the\nstone-pits had no opportunity to come upon his sacrilege in idle hours.\nThey would be held like prisoners within the limits of the quarries.\nHis sense of security had been strengthened by the renewed activities\nin Masaarah.\n\nWith a shovel of tamarisk he cleared the slab of its drift of sand.  He\nfound that the block broadened at the base and was separate from the\nsheet of rock on which it stood.  Among his supplies was a roll of reed\nmatting, and with this cut into proper lengths, he carpeted a\nconsiderable space about the block.  Precaution rather than luxury had\nprompted this procedure, since the chipped stone falling on the\ncovering could be carried cleanly and at once from the spot.\n\nPausing long enough to eat a thin slice of white bread and\ngazelle-meat, and to drink a draft from the porous and ever cooling\nwater bottle, he turned to the protection and concealment of his statue.\n\nThe place was strewn with tolerably regular fragments, and the building\nof a segment of wall to the north at the edge of the matting required\nmore time than strength or skill.  He built solidly against the\npenetrative sand, and as high as his head.  The early afternoon blazed\nupon him and passed into the mellower hours of the later day before he\nhad finished.  He hid his shovel and two cylindrical billets of wood,\nsuch as were used to roll great weights, under the edge of his reed\ncarpet, and his preparations were complete.  He wiped his brow,\ncongratulating himself on the snugness of his retreat and the\nauspicious beginning of his transgression.\n\nWeary and happy, he rowed himself back to Memphis and slept soundly on\nthe eve of a great offense against the laws of Egypt.\n\nBut the next day, when the young sculptor faced the moment of actual\ncreation, he realized that his goddess must take form from an\nunembodied idea.  The ritual had been his guide before, and his genius,\nset free to soar as it would, fluttered wildly without direction.  His\nvisions were troubled with glamours of the old conventional forms; his\nidea tantalized him with glimpses of its perfect self too fleeting for\nhim to grasp.  The sensation was not new to him.  During his maturer\nyears he had tried to remember his mother's face with the same yearning\nand heart-hurting disappointment.  But this time he groped after\nattributes which should shape the features--he had spirit, not form, in\nmind; and the odds against which his unguided genius must battle were\ntoo heroic for it to succeed without aid.  The young sculptor realized\nthat he was in need of a model.  Stoically, he admitted that such a\nthing was as impossible as it was indispensable.  It seemed that he had\nmet complete bafflement.\n\nHe took up his tools and returned to Memphis.  But each succeeding\nmorning found him in the desert again, desperately hopeful--each\nsucceeding evening, in the city disheartened and silent.\n\nSo it followed for several days.\n\nOn the sixth of January the festival in honor of the return of Isis\nfrom Phenicia was celebrated in Memphis.  Kenkenes left the revel in\nmid-afternoon and crossed the Nile to the hills.  He found no content\naway from his block of stone--no happiness before it.  But he wandered\nback to the seclusion of the niche that he might be moody and sad of\neye in all security.\n\nThe stone-pits were deserted.  The festivities in Memphis had extended\ntheir holiday to the dreary camp at Masaarah.  Kenkenes climbed up to\nhis retreat and remained there only a little time.  The unhewn rock\nmocked him.\n\nHe descended through the gorge and found that the Hebrews were but\nnominally idle.  A rope-walk had been constructed and the men were\ntwisting cables of tough fiber.  The Egyptians lounged in the long\nshadows of the late afternoon and directed the work with no effort and\nlittle concern.  The young sculptor overlooked the scene as long as it\ninterested him and continued down the valley toward the Nile.\n\nPresently a little company of Hebrew children approached, their bare\nfeet making velvety sounds in the silence of the ravine.  Each balanced\na skin of water on his head.  The little line obsequiously curved\noutward to let the nobleman pass, and one by one the sturdy children\nturned their luminous eyes up to him, some with a flash of white teeth,\nsome with a downward dip of a bashful head.  One of them disengaged a\nhand from his burden and swept a tangle of moist black curls away from\nhis eyes.  The sun of the desert had not penetrated that pretty thatch\nand the forehead was as fair as a lotus flower.\n\nKenkenes caught himself looking sharply at each face as he passed, for\nit contained somewhat of that for which he sought.  As he walked along\nlooking after them he became aware that some one was near him, He\nturned his head and stopped in his tracks.\n\nHe confronted his idea embodied--Athor, the Golden!\n\nIt was an Israelitish maiden, barely sixteen years old, but in all his\nlife he had never looked upon such beauty.  He had gazed with pleased\neyes on the slender blush-tinted throats and wrists of the Egyptian\nbeauties, but never had he beheld such whiteness of flesh as this.  He\nhad sunk himself in the depths of the dusky, amorous eyes of high-born\nwomen of Memphis, but here were fathomless profundities of azure that\nabashed the heavens.  He had been very near to loveliest hair of Egypt,\nso close that its odorous filaments had blown across his face and his\nartist senses had been caught and tangled in its ebon sorcery.  But\ndown each side this broad brow was a rippling wave of gold, over each\nshoulder a heavy braid of gold that fell, straightened by its own\nweight, a span below the waist.  The winds of the desert had roughened\nit and the bright threads made a nimbus about the head.  Its glory\noverreached his senses and besieged his soul.  Here was not witchery,\nbut exaltation.\n\nEnraptured with her beauty, her perfect fulfilment of his needs, he\nrealized last the unlovely features of her presence.  She balanced a\nheavy water pitcher on her head and wore a rough surplice, more\ndecorous than the dress of the average bondwoman, but the habit of a\nslave, nevertheless.  He had halted directly in her path, and after a\nmoment's hesitancy she passed around him and went on.\n\nImmediately Kenkenes recovered himself and with a few steps overtook\nher.  Without ceremony he transferred the heavy pitcher to his own\nshoulder.  The girl turned her perfect face, full of amazement, to him,\nand a wave of color dyed it swiftly.\n\n\"Thy burden is heavy, maiden,\" was all he said.\n\nThe bulk of the jar on the farther shoulder made it necessary for him\nto turn his face toward her, but she was uneasy under the intent gaze\nof his level black eyes.  She dropped behind him, but he slackened his\npace and kept beside her.  For the moment he was no longer the man of\npulse and susceptibility but the artist.  Therefore her thoughts and\nsensations were apart from his concern.  The unfamiliar perfection of\nthe Semitic countenance bewildered him.  He took up his panegyric.\nNever was a mortal countenance so near divine.  And the sumptuousness\nof her figure--its faultless curves and lines, its lissome roundness,\nits young grace, the beauty of arm and neck and ankle!  Ah! never did\nanything entirely earthly dwell in so fair, so splendid a form.\n\nAs they neared the camp the girl spoke to him for the first time.  He\nrecognized in her voice the same serene tone he had noted in his talk\nwith the Hebrew some days before.\n\n\"Give me my burden now,\" she said.  \"Thou hast affronted thy rank for\nme, and I thank thee many times.\"\n\nThe sculptor paused and for a moment stood embarrassed.  It went sorely\nagainst his gallantry to lay the burden again upon her and he said as\nmuch.\n\n\"Nay, Egypt has no qualms against loading the Hebrew,\" she said\nquietly.  \"Wouldst thou put thy nation to shame?\"\n\nKenkenes opened his eyes in some astonishment.\n\n\"Now am I even more loath,\" he declared.  \"What art thou called?\"\n\n\"Rachel.\"\n\n\"It hath an intrepid sound, but Athor would become thee better.  Now I\nam a sculptor from the city, come to study thy women for a frieze,\" he\ncontinued unblushingly, \"and I would go no farther in my search.\nRachel repeated will be beauty multiplied.  Let me see thee once in a\nwhile,--to-morrow.\"\n\nA sudden flush swept over her face and her eyes darkened.\n\n\"It shall not keep thee from thy labor,\" he added persuasively.\n\nThe color deepened and she made a motion of dissent.\n\n\"Nay! thou dost not refuse me!\" he exclaimed, his astonishment evident\nin his voice.\n\n\"Of a surety,\" she replied.  \"Give me my burden, I pray thee.\"\n\nDumb with amazement, too genuine to contain any anger, Kenkenes obeyed.\nAs she went up the shady gorge, walking unsteadily under the heavy\npitcher, he stood looking after her in eloquent silence.\n\nAnd in eloquent silence he turned at last and continued down the\nvalley.  There was nothing to be said.  His appreciation of his own\ndiscomfiture was too large for any expression.\n\nIn a few steps he met the short captain who governed the quarries.\nKenkenes guessed his office by his dress.  He was adorned in festal\ntrappings, for he had spent most of the day in revel across the Nile.\n\n\"Dost thou know Rachel, the Israelitish maiden?\" Kenkenes asked,\nplanting himself in the man's way.\n\n\"The yellow-haired Judahite?\" the man inquired, a little surprised.\n\n\"Even so,\" was the reply.\n\nThe soldier nodded.\n\n\"Look to it that she is put to light labor,\" the sculptor continued,\ngazing loftily down into the narrow eyes.  The soldier squared off and\ninspected the nobleman.  It did not take him long to acknowledge the\nyoung sculptor's right to command.\n\n\"It does not pay to be tender with an Israelite,\" the man answered\nsourly.\n\nKenkenes thrust his hand into the folds of his tunic over his breast\nand, drawing forth a number of golden rings strung on a cord, jingled\nthem musically.\n\nThe soldier grinned.\n\n\"That will coax a man out of his dearest prejudice.  I will put her\nover the children.\"\n\nKenkenes dropped the money into the man's palm.\n\n\"I shall have an eye to thee,\" he said warningly.  \"Cheat me not.\"\n\nHe went his way.  The incident restored to him the power of speech.\n\n\"Now, by Horus,\" he began, \"am I to be denied by an Israelite that\nwhich the favoring Hathors designed I should have?  Not while the arts\nof strategy abide within me.  The children, I take it, will come here\nwith the water,\" he cogitated, stamping upon the wet and deserted ledge\nwhich he had reached, \"and here will she be, also.\"\n\nHe raised his eyes to the ragged line of rocks topping the northern\nwall of the gorge.\n\n\"I shall perch myself there like a sacred hawk and filch her likeness.\nNay, now that I come to ponder on it, it is doubtless better that she\nknow naught about it.  She might drop certain things to the Egyptians\nhereabout that would lead to mine undoing.  The gods are with me, of a\ntruth.\"\n\nHe descended into the larger valley and went singing toward the Nile.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE PUNISHMENT OF ATSU\n\nOne late afternoon, in the streets of Pa-Ramesu, a curious new-comer\nbowed before Atsu, the commander of Israel of the treasure city.  The\nvisitor was old and tremulous from fatigue, and the stains of hard\ntravel were evident upon him.\n\n\"Greeting, Atsu.  The peace of the divine Mother attend thee,\" he said.\n\"Snofru, the beloved of Ra at On, sends thee greeting by his servant,\nRanas.\"\n\n\"Greeting,\" the taskmaster replied, after he had inspected the\nwhite-browed servant.  \"The shelter of my roof and the bread of my\nboard are thine;\" adding after a little pause, \"and in truth thou\nseemest to need these things.\"\n\nThe old man smiled an odd wry smile and followed lamely after the long\nswinging stride of the commander toward the headquarters on the knoll.\n\nWithin the house of Atsu, Ranas delivered into the hands of the soldier\nthe message that Kenkenes had brought to Snofru.  While Atsu undid the\nroll the old servant made voluble apologies for the broken seal.  The\ncommander stepped to the doorway for better light and read the writing.\n\nThe old servant back in the dusk of the interior saw the stern face\nharden, the heavy brows knit blackly, the dusky red fade from the\ncheek.  Ranas knew what the soldier read, for he had had the roll with\nits broken seal, from On to Memphis and from Memphis back to On again.\nBut with all his astuteness he could not have guessed what extremes of\nwrath and grief the insulted taskmaster suffered.  The sheet rolled\nitself together again and was broken and crushed in the iron fingers\nthat gripped it.  Presently he tossed it aside.  Hardly had it left his\nhand before he hastened to pick it up, straightened it out and re-read\nit feverishly.  He forgot the old servant; but had he remembered the\nman's curious gaze, no resolution could have hidden that joy which\nslowly wrote itself upon his face.  There was balm in the barb for all\nthe wound it made.  This is what he read:\n\n\n\"To Atsu, Commander over the Builders of Pa-Ramesu, These: To mine ears\nhath come report of mutiny and idleness through thy weak government of\nmy bond-people.  Also that thou hast enforced my commands but feebly,\nand so defeated my purposes, which were my sire's, after whose\nillustrious example I reign.\n\n\"For these and kindred inefficiencies art thou removed from the\ngovernment over Pa-Ramesu.\n\n\"I hereby bestow upon thee another office within the limits of thy\ncapacity.  Thou wilt take up the flagellum over Masaarah when thou hast\nsurrendered Pa-Ramesu to thy successor.\n\n\"By this thou shalt learn that the Pharaohs will be ably served.\n\n\"Horemheb of Bubastis, thy successor, accompanieth these.\n\n\"Give him honor.            MENEPTAH.\"\n\n\nThe diction was manifestly the king's.  None other of high estate would\nhave inspired so spiteful a letter.  But the appointment to Masaarah\nmade Atsu forget the sting in the second reading.  To Masaarah!  To\nMasaarah and Rachel!  He folded the broken sheet and thrust it into his\nbosom.  Meeting the keen eye of his guest, the color rushed back to the\ntaskmaster's face and he summoned two attendant Hebrews to wait upon\nthe old man while he went forth to gain composure in the air.\n\nAfter the old man had been fed and given such other comfort as the\nsoldier's house afforded, the taskmaster returned.  Then Ranas shifted\nhis position so that he might watch his host's face most intelligently,\nand turned to the real purpose of his visit.\n\n\"Thou canst see, my master, that if thy message bore the wrapping for\nthe epistle to Snofru, the message to the holy father must have borne\nthy name.  Thou hast received no letter as yet which was not intended\nfor thee?\"\n\nThe question was delivered politely, but the old man thrust his curious\nface forward and shook his head with a combination of interrogation and\ndissent, which was highly insincere.\n\n\"I have received naught which was not intended for me,\" the taskmaster\nreplied warmly.\n\nAfter a moment's intent contemplation of Atsu's face the courier went\non: \"Nay, so had I thought.  The messenger came to Snofru with all\nspeed and out-stripped the courier bound for Pa-Ramesu.  It is even as\nI had thought.  He may arrive shortly, but I must tarry till he comes.\"\n\nAtsu assented bluntly, and after that if they talked it was of\nimpersonal things and in a desultory manner.  When night came Atsu\ncalled his attendants and had the weary old man put to bed in a\ncurtained corner of the house.  For himself there was no sleep.\n\nAt midnight there came the beat of hoofs on the dust-muffled ways of\nPa-Ramesu.  A sentry knocked at the door of the commander and announced\na visitor.  Atsu, who still sat under the unextinguished reed light,\ngreeted the new-comer with an exclamation of concern.  The man was\ncovered with dust, his dress was torn and bloody, his right hand\nswathed in cloths, and his lip, right cheek and eye were swollen and\ndiscolored.\n\n\"By Horus, friend, thou lookest ill-used,\" the taskmaster exclaimed.\n\"What has befallen thee?\"\n\n\"Naught--naught of any lasting hurt,\" the newcomer replied carelessly.\n\"We were set upon by a troop of murdering Bedouins this side of\nBubastis and had a pretty fight.\"\n\n\"Aye, thou hast the stamp of its beauty upon thy face.  A slave, here,\nwith some balsam,\" Atsu continued, addressing the sentry, \"and a\ncaptain of the constabulary next.  We will cure these Bedouins and\ntheir hurt at once.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" the visitor protested.  \"It is only a spear-slit in my hand, and\na flying stirrup marred my face.  I am well.  Look to the Bedouins,\nhowever; they ran our messenger through--Set consume them!\"\n\n\"Doubt not, we shall look to them.  They grow strangely insolent of\nlate.\"\n\n\"Small wonder,\" the other responded heartily.  \"Is not the whole north\na seething pot of lawlessness; and by the demons of Amenti, is not the\nIsraelite the fire under the caldron?  Nay, but I shall have especial\njoy in damping him!\"\n\nThe man laughed and dropped into the chair Atsu had offered him.\n\n\"Then thou art Horemheb, the new taskmaster over Pa-Ramesu?\"\n\n\"So! has my news outridden me?\" the man exclaimed in very evident\namazement.\n\nRanas, indifferently clad in a hastily donned kamis, at this moment\nparted the curtains of his retreat and came forth with an apologetic\ncourtesy.\n\n\"And thy messenger, sir?  What of him?\" he asked eagerly.\n\n\"Dead, and left at a wayside house.\"\n\n\"And the message?\" the old man persisted.\n\nHoremheb surveyed him with increasing astonishment.\n\n\"Where hast thou these tidings?\" he demanded.  \"They are scarce three\nhours old.  Who reached thee with them before me?\"\n\nAtsu interposed and explained the interchange of letters.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Horemheb.  \"So the correct message came to thee,\nnevertheless, good Atsu.  But I can not tell thee aught of the other.\nIt is lost.\"\n\n\"Lost!\" Ranas shrieked.\n\n\"Gods! old man.  It was only pigment and papyrus, not gold or jewels.\nA kindly disposed Hebrew came to our help with some of his people, and\nwe put the Bedouins to flight.  But after the struggle, search as we\nmight with torches which the Hebrew brought, the message was not to be\nfound.  A Bedouin made off with it, I doubt not.\"\n\nRanas stood speechless for an instant, and then he rushed up to the new\ntaskmaster.\n\n\"His name?\" he demanded fiercely.  \"The Hebrew!  What was he like?\nWhere does he dwell?\"\n\n\"A murrain on the maniac!\" Horemheb exploded.\n\n\"He called himself Aaron!\"\n\nRanas staggered against the wall for support and beat the air with his\narms.\n\n\"Aaron, the brother of Mesu!  O ye inscrutable Hathors!\" he babbled.\n\"A Bedouin made off with it!  Oh!  Oh!  What idiocy!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE COLLAR OF GOLD\n\nThe next morning after his meeting with the golden-haired Israelite,\nKenkenes came early to the line of rocks that topped the north wall of\nthe gorge and, ensconced between the gray fragments, looked down unseen\non her whenever she came to the valley's mouth.  All day long the\nchildren came staggering up from the Nile, laden with dripping hides,\nor returned in a free and ragged line down the green slope of the field\nto the river again.\n\nVastly more simple and time-saving would have been one of the capacious\nwater carts.  But what would have employed these ten youthful Hebrews\nin the event of such improvement?  There was to be no labor-saving in\nthe quarries.  Therefore, through the dust, up the weary slanting\nplane, again and again till the day's work amounted to a journey of\nmiles, the Hebrew children toiled with their captain and co-laborer,\nRachel.\n\nAt the summit of the wooden slope the beautiful Israelite, who had\npreceded her charges, passed up the burden of each one to the Hebrews\non the scaffold.  From his aery Kenkenes watched this particular phase\nof her tasks with interest.  She was not too far from him for the\ndetails of her movements to be distinguishable, and the posture of the\noutstretched arms and lifted face fulfilled his requirements.  He\nabandoned the modeling of her features for that day and copied the\nattitude.  Once in the morning and once in the afternoon a countryman\nof hers, strong, young and but lightly bearded, stepped down from his\nplace on the scaffold and relieved her.  The sculptor noted the act\nwith some degree of disquiet, hoping that the graceful protests of the\ngirl might prevail.  When the stalwart Hebrew overrode her\nremonstrances, and motioned her toward a place at the side of the\nframe-work where she might rest, the young sculptor frowned\nimpatiently.  But his humane heart chid him and he waited with some\nassumption of grace till she should take up her burden again.\n\nAt sunset he retired cautiously, but several dawns found him among the\nrocks, with reed pen, papyri and molds of clay.  When he climbed to his\nretreat within the walls of stone, on the hillside in the late\nafternoon, he hid several studies of the girl's head and statuettes of\nclay under the matting.\n\nAt last he began the creation of Athor the Golden.  For days he labored\nfeverishly, forgetting to eat, fretting because the sun set and the\ndarkness held sway for so long.  Having overstepped the law, he placed\nno limit to the extent of his artistic transgression.\n\nAfter choosing nature as his model, he followed it slavishly.  On the\noccasion of his initial departure from the accepted rules, he had never\ndreamed it possible to disregard ritualistic commandments so\nabsolutely.  He even ignored the passive and meditative repose,\nimmemorial on the carven countenances of Egypt.\n\nThe face of Athor, as she put forth her arms to receive the sun, must\nshow love, submission, eagerness and great appeal.\n\nAs Kenkenes said this thing to himself, he lowered chisel and mallet\nand paused.  Posture and form would avail nothing without these\nemotions written on the face.  He began to wonder if he might carve\nthem, unaided.  He had not found them in the Israelite, and he\nconfessed to himself, with a little laugh, a doubt that he should ever\nsee them on her countenance.\n\nThen a vagabond impulse presented itself unbidden in his mind and was\nfrowned down with a blush of apology to himself.  And yet he remembered\nhis coquetry with the Lady Ta-meri as some small defense in the form of\nprecedent.\n\n\"Nay,\" he replied to this evidence, \"it is a different woman.  Between\nmyself and Ta-meri it is even odds, and the vanquished will have\ndeserved his defeat.\"\n\nThat evening--it was several days after the face of the goddess had\nbegun to emerge from the block of stone--he went to the upper end of\nthe gorge and passed through the camp on his way home, that he might\nmeet his model.\n\nThe laborers had not returned from the quarries, though the evening\nmeal bubbled and fumed over the fires in the narrow avenue between the\ntents.  Kenkenes passed by on the outskirts of the encampment and went\non.\n\nDeep shadow lay on the stone-pits when Kenkenes reached the mouth of\nthe gorge, and a cool wind from the Nile swept across the grain.  The\nday's work had been prolonged in the lowering of a huge slab from its\nposition in its native bed.  The monolith was already on the brink of\nthe wooden incline, and every man was at the windlasses by which the\ncables controlling its descent were paid out.  Kenkenes saw at a glance\nthat none of the water-bearers was present, and he knew the lovely\nIsraelite was with them.  He did not pause.\n\nBefore the sound of the quarry stir had been left behind he heard a\nsharp report, the frightened shrieks of women and shouts of warning.\nHe looked back in time to see the huge stone turn part way round on the\nchute and rush, end first, earthward.  Expectant silence fell, broken\nonly by the vicious snarl of a flying windlass crank.  But in an\ninstant the great slab struck the earth with a thunderous sound that\nreverberated again and again from the barren hills about.  A vast\nall-enveloping cloud of dust and earth filled the hollow quarry like\nsmoke from an explosion.  But there was no further outcry, and through\nthe outskirts of the lifting cloud men were seen making deliberate\npreparations to repair the parted cable.  Assured that no calamity had\noccurred, Kenkenes went on.\n\nIn a few steps he met the children water-bearers flying to the scene of\nthe accident.  Not one of them bore a water-skin.  The excited young\nHebrews did not stop to question the sculptor, but ran on, and were\nswallowed up in dust.\n\nHalf-way to the Nile he came upon her whom he sought.  She was standing\nalone in the midst of ten sheepskins, and the grain was wetted with the\nspilled water.  He pointed to the discarded hides about her.\n\n\"The camp will go thirsty if the runaways do not return,\" he said.\n\"Thy burden is too heavy for even me to-night.\"\n\n\"They will return,\" she answered.\n\n\"Aye, it was naught but a parting cable and a falling rock.  I was near\nand saw no evidence of disaster.  Had the children asked me, I should\nhave told them as much.\"\n\n\"They will return,\" she repeated, and Kenkenes fancied that there was a\ndismissal in this quiet repetition.  But he did not mean to see it.  He\nwent on, with a smile.\n\n\"I am glad they did not stop, for I wanted to see thee, with that\nfrightened longing of a man who hath resolved on confession and meeteth\nhis confessor on a sudden.  Now that the moment hath arrived I marvel\nhow I shall make my peace with Athor, whose command I most deliberately\nbroke.\"\n\nShe raised her beautiful eyes to his face and waited for him to\nproceed.  The pose of the head was exactly what he wanted.  Rapidly he\ncompared every detail of her face with his memory of the statue of\nAthor, noting with satisfaction that his studies had been happily\nfaithful.  His scrutiny was so swift and skilful that there seemed to\nbe nothing unusual in his gaze.\n\n\"I am culpable but impenitent,\" he continued.  \"I shall not forswear\nmine offense.  Neither is there any need of a plea to justify myself,\nfor my very sin is its own justification.  Behold me!  I perched myself\nlike a sacred hawk at the mouth of the valley and filched thy likeness.\nDo with me as thou wilt, but I shall die reiterating approval of my\ndeed.\"\n\nHis extravagant speech wrought an interesting change on the face before\nhim.  There was a pronounced curve of her mouth, a slight tension in\nthe chiseled nostril--in fact, an indefinable disdain that had not been\nthere before.  It would become Athor well.  Kenkenes understood the\nlook but he did not flinch.  Instead he let his head drop slowly until\nhe looked at her from under his brows.  Then he summoned into his eyes\nall the wounded feeling, pathos, soft reproach and appeal, of which his\ngraceless young heart was capable, and gazed at her.\n\nKhufu might have been as easily melted by the twinkle of a rain drop.\nNever in his life had he faced such comprehensive contemplation.  Calm,\nmonumental and icy disdain deepened on every feature.\n\nKenkenes stood motionless and suffered her to look at him.  Being a man\nof fine soul, the eloquent gaze spoke well-deserved rebuke.  He knew\nthat his color had risen, and his eyes fell in spite of heroic efforts\nto keep them steady.  His sensations were unique; never had he\nexperienced the like.  When he recovered himself her blue eyes were\nfixed absently on the distant quarries.\n\nEvery impulse urged him to set himself right in the eyes of this most\ndiscerning slave.\n\n\"Wilt thou forgive me?\" he asked earnestly.  \"I would I could make thee\nknow I crave thy good will.\"\n\nThere was no mistaking the honesty in these words.\n\nHer face relaxed instantly.\n\n\"But I fear I have not set about it wisely,\" he added.  \"Let me give\nthee a peace-offering to prove my contrition.\"\n\nHe slipped from about his neck the collar of golden rings and moved\nforward to put it about her throat.\n\nShe drew back, her face flushing hotly under an expression of positive\npain.\n\nKenkenes dropped his hands to his sides with a limpness highly\nsuggestive of desperate perplexity.  Was not this a slave?  And yet\nhere was the fine feeling of a princess.  He stood, for once in his\nlife, at a loss what to do.  He could not depart without the greatest\nawkwardness, and yet, if he lingered, he sacrificed his comfort.\nPresently he exclaimed helplessly:\n\n\"Rachel, do thou tell me what to say or do.  It seems that I but sink\nmyself the deeper in the quicksand of thy disapproval at every struggle\nto escape.  Do thou lead me out.\"\n\nHe had met a slave, justed with an equal and flung up his hands in\nsurrender to his better.  He did not confess this to himself, but his\nwords were admission enough.  Never would his high-born spirit have\npermitted him to make such a declaration to one slavish in soul.\n\nThe straightforward acknowledgment of defeat and the genuine concern in\nhis voice were irresistible.  She answered him at once, distantly and\ncalmly.\n\n\"Thou, as an Egyptian, hast honored me, a Hebrew, with thy notice.  I\nhave deserved neither gift nor fee.\"\n\n\"Nay, but let us put it differently,\" he replied.  \"I, as a man, have\ngiven thee, a maiden, offense, and having repented, would appease thee\nwith a peace-offering.  Believe me, I do not jest.  By the gentle\ngoddesses, I fear to speak,\" he added breathlessly.\n\nThe Israelite's blue eyes were veiled quickly, but the Egyptian guessed\naright that she had hidden a smile in them.\n\n\"Am I forgiven?\" he persisted.\n\n\"So thou wilt offend no further,\" she said without raising her eyes.\n\n\"I promise.  And now, since the goddess hath refused mine offering, I\nmay not take it back.  What shall I do with this?\" he asked, holding up\nthe collar of gold.\n\n\"Put it about thy statue's neck,\" she said softly.\n\nKenkenes gasped and retreated a step.  Instantly she was imploring his\npardon.\n\n\"It was a forward spirit in me that made me say it.  I pray thee,\nforgive me.\"\n\n\"Thou hast given no offense, but how dost thou know of this--tell me\nthat.\"\n\n\"I came upon it by accident three days ago.  Several of the children\nhad gone fowling for the taskmaster's meal, and were so long absent\nthat I was sent to look for them.  The path down the valley is old, and\nI have followed it with the idea of labor ever in my mind.  And this\nwas a moment of freedom, so I thought to spend it where I had not been\na slave, I went across the hills, and, being unfamiliar with them, lost\nmy way.  When I climbed upon one of the great rocks to overlook the\nlabyrinth, lo! at my feet was the statue.  I knew myself the moment I\nlooked, and it was not hard to guess whose work it was.\"\n\nShe paused and looked at him with appeal on her face.\n\n\"Thou hast told no one?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" was the quick and earnest answer.\n\n\"Thou hast caught me in a falsehood,\" he said.  The statement was\nalmost brutal in its directness.\n\nBut the question that came back swiftly was not less pointed.\n\n\"There was no frieze of bondmaidens--naught of anything thou hast told\nme?\"\n\n\"Nay, not anything.  I am carving a statue against the canons of the\nsculptor's ritual for the sake of my love of beauty.  Until thou didst\ncome upon it, I alone possessed the secret.  Thou knowest the\npunishment which will overtake me?\"\n\n\"Aye, I know right well.  Yet fear not.  The statue is right cunningly\nconcealed and none will ever find it, for the children were\nunsuccessful and the meals for the overseer will be brought him from\nthe city hereafter.  And I will not betray thee--I give thee my word.\"\n\nHer tone was soft and earnest; her assurances were spoken so\nconfidently, her interest was so genuine, that a queer and\nunaccountable satisfaction possessed the young artist at once.\n\nAt this moment the runaway water-bearers came in sight and in obedience\nto very evident dismissal in the Israelite's eyes, Kenkenes bade her\nfarewell and left her.\n\nBut he had not gone two paces before she overtook him.\n\n\"Approach thy work from various directions,\" she cautioned, \"else thou\nwilt wear a path which may spy on thee one day.\"\n\nThe moment the words passed her lips, Kenkenes, who still held the\ncollar, put it about her neck, passing his hands under the thick\nplaits, and snapped the clasp accurately.\n\nThe act was done instantly, and with but a single movement.  He was\ngone, laughing on his way, before she had realized what he had done.\n\nThere was revel in the young man's veins that evening, but the great\nhouse of his father was silent and lonely.  If he would find a\ncompanion he must leave its heavy walls.  His resolution was not long\nin making nor his instinct slow in directing him.  An hour after the\nevening meal, when he entered the chariot that waited, he had laid\naside the simple tunic, and in festal attire was, every inch of his\nmany inches, the son of the king's favorite artist.  His charioteer\ndrove in the direction of the nomarch's house.\n\nThe portress conducted him into the faintly lighted chamber of guests\nand went forth silently.  Kenkenes interpreted her behavior at once.\n\n\"There is another guest,\" he thought with a smile, \"and I can name him\nas promptly as any chanting sorcerer might.\"  When the serving woman\nreturned she bade him follow her and led the way to the house-top.\n\nThere, under the subdued light of a single lamp, was the Lady Ta-meri;\nat her feet, Nechutes.\n\n\"I should wear the symbol-broidered robe of a soothsayer,\" the sculptor\ntold himself.\n\n\"You made a longer sojourn of your visit to Tape than you had\nintended,\" the lady said, after the greetings.\n\n\"Nay, I have been in Memphis twenty days at least.\"\n\n\"So?\" queried Nechutes.  \"Where dost thou keep thyself?\"\n\n\"In the garb of labor among the ink-pots and papyri of the sculptor\nclass,\" the lady answered.  \"I warrant there are pigment marks on his\nfingers even now.\"\n\nKenkenes extended his long right hand to her for inspection.  She\nreceived it across her pink palm and scrutinized it laughingly.\n\n\"Nay, I take it back.  Here is naught but henna and a suspicion of\nattar.  He has been idle these days.\"\n\n\"Hast thou forgotten the efficacy of the lemon in the removal of\nstains?\" the sculptor asked with a smile.\n\nThe lady frowned.\n\n\"Give us thy news from Tape, then,\" she demanded, putting his hand away.\n\n\"The court is coming to Memphis sooner.  That is all.  O, aye, I had\nwell-nigh forgot.  There is also talk of a marriage between Rameses and\nTa-user.\"\n\n\"Fie!\" the lady scoffed.  \"Nechutes hath more to tell than that, and he\nhath stayed in Memphis.\"\n\n\"Thou wilt come to realize some day, Ta-meri, that I am fitted to the\nyoke of labor, when I fail thee in all the nicer walks thou wouldst\nhave me tread.  Come, out with thy gossip, Nechutes.\"\n\n\"I had a letter from Hotep to-day--a budget of news, included with\nofficial matters with which the king would acquaint me.  Ta-user, with\nAmon-meses and Siptah, hath joined the court at Tape--\"\n\n\"And Siptah, she brought with her--\" the sculptor interrupted softly.\n\nNechutes cast an expressive look at Kenkenes and went on.\n\n\"And the courting hath begun.\"\n\nSilence fell, and the lady looked at the two young men with wonder in\nher eyes.\n\n\"Nay, but that is interesting,\" Kenkenes admitted, recovering himself.\n\"Tell me more.\"\n\n\"The offices of cup-bearer and murket are to be bestowed in Memphis,\"\nNechutes continued.\n\n\"And the one falls to Nechutes,\" the lady declared triumphantly.\n\n\"Of a truth thou hast a downy lot before thee, Nechutes,\" the young\nsculptor said heartily.  \"And never one so deserving of it.  I give\nthee joy.\"\n\n\"And the other goes to the noble Mentu,\" Nechutes added in a meek voice.\n\n\"Sphinx!\" Ta-meri cried, tapping him on the head.  \"You did not tell me\nthat.\"\n\nThe surprised delight of Kenkenes was not so bewildering as to blind\nhim to the reason why Nechutes had withheld this news from Ta-meri.\nThe blunt Egyptian was not anxious to speed his rival's cause.\n\n\"Does my father know of this?\" he asked.\n\n\"I doubt not.  The same messenger that brought me news of mine own\nappointment departed for On when he learned that Mentu was there.\"\n\n\"Nay, but that will be wine in his veins,\" Kenkenes mused happily.  \"It\nwill make him young again.  His late inactivity hath chafed him sorely.\"\n\n\"You have come honestly by your labor-loving,\" Nechutes commented.\n\"Hotep adds further that Mentu is the only one of the king's new\nministers that is no longer a young man.\"\n\n\"It is Rameses who counsels him, I doubt not,\" the sculptor replied.\n\"He hath great faith in the powers of youth.  And behold what a cabinet\nhe hath built up for his father.  First,\" Kenkenes continued,\nenumerating on his fingers, \"there is Nechutes--\"\n\nThe new cup-bearer waved his hand, and Kenkenes went on.\n\n\"There is my father, the murket.  He needs no further praise than the\nutterance of his name.  There is Hotep, on whose lips Toth abideth.\nThere is Seneferu, the faithful, whom the Rebu dreads.  Next is\nKephren, the mohar,[1] who would outshine his father, the right hand of\nthe great Rameses, had he but nations to conquer.  After him, Har-hat--\"\n\n\"Hold!  He is not appointed of the prince.  He was Meneptah's\nchoice--and his alone,\" Nechutes interrupted.  \"It is rumored that\nRameses is not over-fond of him.\"\n\n\"He will be put to it to hold his high place in the face of the\nprince's disfavor,\" Kenkenes cogitated.\n\n\"Nay, but he presses the prince hard for generalship.  It must be so,\nsince he could win the king's good will over the protest of Rameses.\nSo I doubt not he can hold his own at court by prudence and strategy.\"\n\nMeanwhile Ta-meri, in the depths of her chair, gazed at the pair\nresentfully.  They had grown interested in weighty things and had\nseemingly forgotten her.  So she sighed and bethought her how to punish\nthem.\n\n\"What a relief it will be when the Pharaoh returns to Memphis!\" she\nmurmured in the pause that now followed.  \"He will be more welcome to\nme than the Nile overflow.  The city has been a desert to me since he\ndeparted.\"\n\nNechutes looked at her with reproach in his eyes.\n\n\"Consider the desert, O sweet Oasis,\" Kenkenes said softly.  \"Is not\nits portion truly grievous if its single palm complain?\"\n\nThe lady dropped her eyes and her cheeks glowed even through the dusk.\nAfter the long interval of Nechutes' blunt love-making the sculptor's\nsubtleties fell most gratefully on her ear.\n\nNechutes scowled, sighed and finally spoke.\n\n\"Tape is afflicted in anticipation of the king's departure,\" he\nobserved disjointedly.\n\n\"Tape does not love Meneptah as Memphis loves him,\" Kenkenes answered.\n\"Hast thou not this moment heard Memphis pine for him?  Tape would not\nhave spoken thus.  She would have said: 'Would that the king were here\nthat I might ask a boon of him.'  Memphis is the cradle of kings; Tape,\ntheir tomb.  Memphis is full of reverence for the Pharaohs; Tape, of\npride; Memphis of loyalty; Tape, of boon-craving.  Meneptah returns to\nthe bosom of his mother when he returns to Memphis.\"\n\n\"But he will not remain here long,\" Nechutes went on.  \"He goes to\nTanis to be near the scene of the Israelitish unrest.\"\n\n\"Alas, Ta-meri, and wilt thou droop again?\" Kenkenes asked.\n\n\"I fear,\" she assented with a little sigh.  Then, after a pause, she\nasked: \"Does the murket follow the court?\"\n\nKenkenes shook his head.  \"Not when the Pharaoh travels.  But should he\ndepart permanently from Memphis my father would go.  Many of the court\nreturning hither will not proceed to Tanis.  The city will not be so\ndesolate then as now.\"\n\n\"Nay, but I am glad,\" she said.  \"Those who remain will suffice.\"\n\n\"Of a truth?\" Nechutes demanded angrily.\n\n\"Have I not said?\" she replied.\n\nNechutes rose slowly and made his way to a chair some distance away\nfrom her.  Kenkenes immediately guessed why the cup-bearer was hurt,\nbut the lady was innocent.  He knew that he had but to speak to restore\nNechutes to favor.\n\nMeanwhile the lady, amazed and deeply offended at the desertion of the\ncup-bearer, had turned her back on him.  Kenkenes arose.\n\nTa-meri sat up in alarm.\n\n\"O, do not go.  You have but this moment come,\" she said.\n\n\"Already have I stayed too long,\" he replied.  \"But thy hospitality\nmakes one forget the debt one owes to a prior guest.\"\n\nShe looked at him from under silken lashes.\n\n\"Nechutes has misconducted himself,\" she objected, \"and I would not be\nleft alone with him.\"\n\n\"Wouldst thou have me stay and see him restored to favor under my very\neyes?  Ah, Ta-meri, where is thy womanly compassion?\"\n\nShe smiled and extended her hand.  Kenkenes took it and felt it relax\nand lie willingly in his palm.\n\n\"Nay, do not go,\" she pleaded softly.\n\n\"Give me leave to come again instead.\"\n\n\"To-morrow,\" she said, half questioning, half commanding.  He did not\npromise, but as he bent over to kiss her hand, he said in a low tone:\n\n\"Hast thou forgotten that Nechutes leaves Memphis with the going of the\nking?\"\n\nThe lady started and flung a conscience-stricken glance at the scowling\ncup-bearer.  And while her face was turned, Kenkenes departed like a\nshadow.  But the portals of the nomarch's house had hardly closed\nbehind him before he demanded of himself, impatiently, why he had made\nNechutes' peace, why he kept the cup-bearer for ever between himself\nand Ta-meri.  And as if to evade this catechism something arose in him\nand asked him why he should not.\n\nAnd to this he could give no answer.\n\n\n\n[1] Mohar--The king's pioneer, an office that might be defined as\nminister of war.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE DEBT OF ISRAEL\n\nFor an instant after the sculptor had put the collar about her throat,\nRachel stood motionless, her face flushing and whitening with\nconflicting emotions.\n\nBut her indecision was only momentary.  Rebellion was in the ascendant.\n\nShe thrust her fingers under the band and essayed to wrench off the\noffending necklace, but the stout fastening held and the flexible braid\nprinted its woof on the back of the soft neck.  Almost in tears she\nundid the clasp and flung the collar away.\n\nIt struck the earth with a musical ring, and the green of the wheat hid\nall but a faint ray of the red metal.\n\nThe rout of children descended on her, each clamoring a story of the\naccident.  But without a word she marshaled them and turned once again\ntoward the river to refill the hides.  At the water's edge she kept her\neyes resolutely from the broad dimpling breast of the Nile toward the\nsouth.  She feared that she might see the light bari that was driving\nback to Memphis against that slow but mighty current as easily as if\nwind and water went with it.\n\nBut even before she turned again toward Masaarah, her better nature\nbegan to chide her.  She remembered her impetuous act with a flush of\nshame.\n\n\"His peace-offering--a proof of his good will, and thou didst mistreat\nit, as if he had meant it for a purchase or a fee.  The indignity thou\nhast petulantly fancied, Rachel.\"\n\nAfter a time another thought came to her.\n\n\"The act was not womanly.  Wherein hast thou rebuked him, in casting\naway the trinket?  Thou hast the dignity of Israel to uphold in thy\ndealings with this young man.\"\n\nWhen she reached the spot where the collar had fallen, she sought for\nit furtively, and having found it, thrust it into the bosom of her\ndress.\n\n\"I shall not keep it,\" she said, quieting the protests of her pride.\n\"I shall make him take it back to-morrow.\"\n\nEntering her low shelter in the camp some time later, she found Deborah\nabsent.  Impelled by an unreasoning desire to keep secret this event,\nshe hastily hid the collar in the sand of the tent floor and laid the\nstraw matting of her bed smoothly over its burial place.  Again she\nstruggled with her pride and demanded of herself why she had become\nsecretive.\n\n\"Fie!\" she replied.  \"How couldst thou tell this story to Deborah?\nWhy, it is well-nigh unbecoming.\"\n\nThe dusk settled down over the valley.  Deborah came in like a phantom\nfrom the camp-fires with the evening meal, and the pair sat down\ntogether to eat, Rachel silent, Deborah thoughtful.\n\n\"Another Egyptian comes to govern Masaarah,\" the old woman observed.\n\"Agistas departed but now, leaving the camp in charge of the\nunder-drivers.\"\n\n\"It makes little odds with us--this change of taskmasters, Deborah--be\nhe Agistas or any other Egyptian.  They are masters and we continue to\nbe slaves,\" Rachel answered after a little silence.\n\n\"Nay, art thou losing spirit?\" Deborah asked with animation.  \"How\nshall the elders keep of good heart if the young surrender?\"\n\n\"I despair not,\" the girl protested.  \"I did but remark this thing; and\nI have spoken truly, have I not?\"\n\n\"Even so.  But this evening there must be more recognition in thee of\nthy lot since it overflows in words.  I, too, have spoken truly, have I\nnot?\"\n\nRachel smiled.  \"It may be,\" she said.\n\nWhen they had supped, they went out before the tent to get the cooling\nair.  It was Deborah again that first broke the silence.\n\n\"Elias is smitten with blindness from the stone-dust,\" she said\nabsently.\n\n\"For all time?\" Rachel asked anxiously.\n\n\"Nay, if he could but rest them and bathe them in the proper simples.\"\n\n\"Alas--\" Rachel began, but she checked herself hurriedly.  \"He was my\nfather's servant,\" she said instead--\"the last living one.  Jehovah\nspare him.  One by one they fall, until I shall be utterly without tie\nto prove I once had kindred.\"\n\nDeborah looked at the girl fixedly for a moment.  Then she put up her\nhand and leaned on the soft young shoulder.\n\n\"Am I not left?\" she asked.\n\nRachel passed her arm about the bowed figure, with some compunction for\nher complaint.\n\n\"My mother's friend!\" she exclaimed lovingly.  \"I know she died in\npeace, remembering that I was left to thy care.\"\n\n\"I mind me,\" she continued after a little silence, \"how tender and\nfrail she was.  Thou wast as a strong tree beside her.  I seem to\nmyself to be mighty compared to my memory of her.\"\n\nDeborah took the white hand that lay across her shoulder.  \"Thou art\nlike to thy father.  Thy mother was black-eyed and fragile--born to the\nsoft life of a princess.  Misfortune was her death, though she\nstruggled to live for thee.  Praise God that thou art like to thy\nfather, else thou hadst died in thine infancy.\"\n\n\"Nay, hath my lot been sterner than the portion of all Israel?\"\n\n\"Of a surety, thou canst guess it, for are there many of thy tribe like\nthee--without a kinsman?\"\n\nRachel shook her head, and the old woman continued absently: \"Of thy\nmother's family there were four, but they died of the heavy labor.  Thy\nfather, Maai, surnamed the Compassionate, was the eldest of six.  They\nwere mighty men, tawny like the lion and as bold--worthy sons of Judah!\nBut there is none left--not one.\"\n\n\"Ten!\" Rachel exclaimed, \"and not one remaineth!\"\n\n\"Aye, and they died as though they were plague-smitten--in pairs and\nsingly, in a little space.\"\n\nDeborah felt a strong tremor run through the young figure against which\nshe leaned, and the arm across her shoulder was withdrawn, that the\nhand might clear the eyes of their tears.\n\nThe old woman discreetly held her peace till the girl should recover.\n\n\"Thou must bear in mind, Rachel,\" she began, after a long silence,\n\"that Egypt had an especial grudge against thy house,--hence, its\nespecial vengeance.  Seti, the Pharaoh, began the oppression of the\nchildren of Israel, but the bondage was not all-embracing, in the\nbeginning.  There were Hebrews to whom Egypt was indebted and chief\namong these was thy father's grandsire, Aram.  Seti paid the debt to\nhim by sparing his small lands and his little treasure and himself when\nhe put Israel to toil.  Thy father's father, thy grandsire, Elihu,\nyounger brother to Amminadab, who was father-in-law to Aaron, came to\nhis share of his father's goods when Aram was gathered to his fathers.\nThis was in the latter days of Seti.  Thy grandsire sent his little\ntreasure into Arabia and bought lands with it.  After many trials he\ncaused to grow thereon a rose-shrub which had no period of\nrest--blooming freshly with every moon.  And there he had the Puntish\nscentmaker on the hip, for the Arabic rose rested often.  The attar he\ndistilled from his untiring flower, had another odor, wild and sweet\nand of a daintier strength.  When he was ready to trade he sent in a\nvial of crystal to Neferari Thermuthis and to Moses, then a young man\nand a prince of the realm, a few drops of this wondrous perfume.  Doubt\nnot, the Hebrew prince knew that the gift came from a son of Israel.\nThe queen and Moses used the attar.  Therefore all purple-wearing Egypt\nmust have it or die, since the fashion had been set within the\nboundaries of the throne.  Then did Elihu name a price for his sweet\nodor that might have been small had each drop been a jewel.  But Egypt\nopened her coffers and bought as though her idols had broken their\nsilence and commanded her.\"\n\nThe old woman paused and reflected with grim satisfaction on the remote\ndays of an Israelitish triumph.\n\n\"Meanwhile,\" she continued finally, \"thy grandsire lived humbly in\nGoshen.  None dreamed that this keeper of a little flock, lord over a\nlittle tent and tiller of a few acres, was the great Syrian merchant\nwho was despoiling Mizraim.\n\n\"Next he became a money-lender, through his steward, to the Egyptians,\nand wrested from them what they had saved in putting Israel to toil\nwithout hire.  So his riches increased a hundredfold and the half of\nnoble Egypt was beholden to him.  Then he turned to aid his oppressed\nbrethren.\n\n\"He bribed the taskmasters or kept watch over them and discovered\nwherein they were false to the Pharaoh, and held their own sin over\ntheir heads till they submitted through fear of him.  He filled\nIsrael's fields with cattle, the hills with Hebrew flocks, the valleys\nwith corn.  Alas!  Had it not been--but, nay, Jehovah was not yet\nready.  He had chosen Moses to lead Israel.\"\n\nThe old woman paused and sighed.  After a silence she continued:\n\n\"Thy father fell heir to the most of his wealth, but not to his\nimmunity.  With a heart as great as his sire's he continued the good\nwork.  He wedded thy mother, the daughter of another free Israelite,\nand in his love for her, never was man more happy.  In the midst of his\nhope and his peace an enemy betrayed him to Rameses, the Incomparable\nPharaoh.  And Rameses remembered not his father's covenant.  So Maai's\nlands, his flocks, his home, were taken; thou, but new-born, and thy\nmother with her people were sent to the brick-fields--himself and his\nbrothers to the mines; and in a few years thou wast all that was left\nof thy father's house.\"\n\nThe effect of this recital on the young Israelite was deep.  Anguish,\nwrath, and the pain that intensifies these two, helplessness, inflamed\nher soul.  The story was not entirely new to her; she had heard it, a\npart at a time, in her childhood; but now, her understanding fully\ndeveloped, the whole history of her family's wrongs appealed to her in\nall its actual savagery.  Egypt, as a unit, like a single individual,\nhad done her people to death.  Between her and Egypt, then, should be\nbitter enmity, rancor that might never be subdued, and eternal warfare.\nHer enemy had conquered her, had put her in bondage, and made sport of\nher as a pastime.  The accumulation of injury and insult seemed more\nthan she could bear, and the vague hope of Israel in Moses seemed in\nthe face of Egypt's strength a folly most fatuous.\n\n\"O Egypt!  Egypt!\" she exclaimed with concentrated passion.  \"What a\ndebt of vengeance Israel owes to thee!\"\n\nThe old woman laid her shriveled hands on the arm of her ward.\n\n\"Aye, and it shall be paid,\" she said fiercely.  \"Thou canst not get\nthy people back, nor alleviate for them now the pangs that killed them;\nbut to the mortally wronged there is one restitution--revenge!\"\n\nAt this moment some one over near the western limits of the camp cried\nout a welcome; a commotion arose, noisy with cheers and rapid with\nrunning.  Presently it died down and the pair before the tent saw a\nhorseman ride through the gloom toward the empty frame house of the\noverseer.\n\nThe two women lapsed immediately into their absorbed communion again.\n\n\"Lay it not to Egypt alone, but to all the offenders against Jehovah.\nMidian and Amalek, passing through to do homage to the Pharaoh, sneer\nat Israel; Babylon in her chariot of gold flicks her whip at the sons\nof Abraham as she bears her gifts of sisterhood to Memphis.  We suffer\nnot only the insults of a single nation, but despiteful use by all\nidolaters.  Let but the world gather before Jehovah's altar and there\nshall be no more affronts to Israel.\"\n\n\"Must we bide that time?\" Rachel asked.  \"Or shall we bring it about?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" Deborah replied scornfully.  \"Even my mystic eyes are not potent\nenough to see so far into the future.  We throw off the bondage sooner\nthan thou dreamest, daughter of Judah, but if the nations bow at the\naltar of Jehovah, it will take a stronger hand than Israel's to bring\nthem there.\"\n\nAfter a silence Rachel murmured, as though to herself: \"We shall go,\nand soon, and leave no debt behind.  Will the vengeance befall all\nEgypt, the good as well as the bad?\"\n\n\"Hast thou forgotten God's promise to Abraham concerning the wicked\ncities of the plain?  If there were ten righteous therein He had not\ndestroyed them utterly.\"\n\n\"Nay, but if there be but one therein?\"\n\n\"One?  Now, for what one dost thou concern thyself?  Atsu?\"\n\nRachel, startled out of her dream, hesitated, her face coloring hotly,\nthough unseen, beneath the kindly dusk of night.\n\n\"Yea,\" she said in a low tone, wondering gravely if she spake the\ntruth.  Somebody beside her laughed the short unready laugh of one slow\nat mirth.\n\n\"Of a truth?\" he asked.  Rachel turned about and faced Atsu.  He took\nher hands and drew her near him.\n\n\"Nay, Deborah,\" he said sadly; \"pursue her not into the secret chambers\nof her young heart.  I doubt not there is 'one' therein, but why shall\nwe demand what manner of 'one' it is when she may not even confess it\nto herself?\"\n\nConfused and a little guilty by reason of the necklace, and wondering\nwhy she admitted any guilt, Rachel drew away from him.\n\n\"Nay,\" he went on, retaining his clasp.  \"Let there be perfect\nunderstanding between us twain, thou Radiant One.  I shall not plague\nthee with my love, nor even let it be apparent after this.  Men have\nlived in constant fellowship, but no nearer to the women whom they\nlove, and am I less able than my kind?  So I be not hateful to thee,\nRachel, I am content.\"\n\n\"Hateful to me!\" she cried reproachfully.\n\n\"Nay?  No more then.  I have spoken the last with thee concerning my\nlove.  And thus I seal the pact.\"\n\nHe drew her, unresisting, to him, and kissed her forehead.\n\n\"For my gentleness to the Hebrews of Pa-Ramesu,\" he continued in a\ncalmer tone as he released her, \"they have stripped me of my rank and\nsent me to govern Masaarah.  So they thought to punish me, never\ndreaming that they joined me to Rachel, and hid me away in a nook with\na handful to whom I may be merciful and none will spy upon me!  They\nthwarted their end.\"\n\n\"Happy Masaarah!\" Rachel said earnestly.\n\nAtsu laughed again and disappeared in the dark.\n\nRachel drew her hand furtively across the place on her brow that the\ntaskmaster's lips had touched.  The keen eyes of the old Israelite saw\nthe motion and understood it.\n\n\"It is not Atsu,\" she said astutely.\n\n\"Nay,\" the girl protested, \"and yet it is Atsu, in mine own meaning, or\nany one in Egypt who is fair to Israel.  The grace of that one would be\nsufficient in God's sight to save all Egypt from doom.  That was my\nmeaning.\"\n\nThe light in the frame quarters of the taskmaster was extinguished and\nat that moment a shadowy figure emerged from the dark and approached\nthe pair.\n\n\"A courier from Mesu speaketh without the camp, even now,\" the visiting\nIsraelite said in a half-whisper.  \"Atsu hath put out his light, to\nsleep, but even if he sleep not, the people may go without fear and\nlisten to the speaker.  Come ye and give him audience.\"\n\n\"We come,\" Deborah replied.\n\nAs the old woman and her ward walked down through the night in the\ndirection taken by the entire population of the quarries, Deborah said\nquietly:\n\n\"Thy cloud of depression hath rifted somewhat since sunset, daughter.\"\n\nRachel pressed her hand repentantly.\n\nAt the side of an open space, now closely filled with sitting\nlisteners, stood a Hebrew, not older than thirty-five.  A knot of\nflaming pitch, stuck in a crevice of rock near him, lighted his face\nand figure.  His frame had the characteristic stalwart structure of the\nIsraelitish bondman.  The black hair waved back from a placid white\nforehead; the eyes were serene and level, the mouth rather wide but\nfirm, the jaw square.  The beard would have been light for a much\nyounger man, and it was soft, red-brown and curling.  It added a\nmildness and tenderness to the face.  Whoever looked upon him was\nimpressed with the unflinching piety of the countenance.\n\nThis was Caleb the Faithful, son of Jephunneh, the Kenezite.\n\nHe was talking when Rachel and her ancient guardian entered the hollow,\nand he continued in a passive tone throughout the several arrivals\nthereafter.  He spoke as one that believes unfalteringly and has\nevidence for the faith.  He did not recount Israel's wrongs--he would\nhave worked against his purpose had he wrought his hearers into an\nangry mood.  Besides, the story would have been superfluous.  None knew\nIsrael's wrongs better than Israel.\n\nHe talked of redemption and Canaan.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nHEBREW CRAFT\n\nWhen Mentu returned from On a light had kindled in his eyes and his\nstately step had grown elastic.  The man that withdraws from a busy\nlife while in full vigor has beckoned to Death.  Inactivity preys upon\nhim like a disease.  The great artist, forced into idleness by the\nsuccession of an incapable king, had been renewed by the prospect of\nlabor which his exaltation into the high office had afforded.  With\npleasure in his heart, Kenkenes watched his father grow young again.\n\n\"Who was thy good friend in this?\" the young man asked one evening\nafter a number of contented remarks concerning the market's\nappointment.  \"Who said the word in the Pharaoh's ear?\"\n\n\"So to raise me to this office it is needful that something more than\nmy deserts must have urged the king?\" Mentu retorted.\n\n\"Nay! that was not my meaning,\" Kenkenes made haste to say.  \"But thou\nknowest, my father, that Meneptah must be for ever directed.  Who,\nthen, offered him this wise counsel?  Rameses?\"\n\n\"It was never Har-hat,\" Mentu replied, but half placated.\n\n\"If he had, thou and I must no longer call him a poor counselor.\"\n\n\"Bribe--\" the murket began, ruffled once more.\n\n\"Nay,\" Kenkenes interrupted smiling.  \"He had but proved himself worthy\nand wise.\"\n\nMentu shook his head, but there was no more temper evident in his face.\n\n\"Now is a propitious hour for a good counselor,\" Kenkenes pursued.\n\n\"What knowest thou?\" Mentu asked with interest.\n\n\"Tape,\" the young man replied briefly.\n\n\"Nay, the sedition in Tape is old and vitiated.\"\n\n\"And the Hak-heb.\"\n\n\"That breach may be healed.  But we have sedition to fear among the\nbond-people--\"\n\n\"The bond-people!\"\n\n\"Even so.  Open and organized sedition.\"\n\n\"The Israelites?\" Kenkenes exclaimed with an incredulous note in his\nvoice.\n\n\"The Israelites.\"\n\n\"I would sooner fear a rebellion among the draft-oxen and the mules of\nNehapehu.\" [1]\n\n\"The elder Seti's fears and the fears of the great Rameses were other\nthan yours.\"\n\n\"O, aye, they had cause for fear then, but since Seti yoked the\ncreatures--\"\n\n\"The Pharaohs did not begin in time,\" the elder man interrupted.  \"Had\nthat royal fiat, the decimation of Hebrew children, continued, we\nshould not have had the Israelite to-day, but gods!\" he shuddered with\nhorror.  \"I hope that is a horrid slander--tradition, not fact.  I like\nnot to lay the slaughter or babes at the door of any Egyptian dynasty.\nBut had an early Pharaoh of the house of Tothmes enforced the\nabsorption of the Hebrew by his same rank among the Egyptian, we should\nnot have the menace of a hostile alien within our borders to-day.  The\nheavy hand of oppression has made a wondrous race of them for strength.\nTheirs is no mean intellect; great men have come from among them, and\nthey will be a hardy foe arrayed against us.\"\n\n\"They are not warriors; they are poor and unequipped for hostilities;\nthey are thoroughly under subjection,\" the young man pursued.  \"What\ncan they do against us?\"\n\n\"Do!\" Mentu exclaimed with impatience in the repetition.  \"They have\nonly to say to the banished Hyksos: 'Come ye, let us do battle with\nEgypt.  We will be your mercenaries.'  They have only to send greeting\nto that lean traitor Amon-meses, thus: 'Give us the Delta to be ours\nand we will help you win all Egypt,' and there will be enough done.\"\n\n\"They must have a pact among themselves and a leader, first,\" Kenkenes\nobjected.\n\n\"Have I not said they are organized?  And their leader is found.  He is\na foster-brother to Meneptah; an initiated priest of Isis; a sorcerer\nand an infidel of the blackest order.  He is Prince Mesu, a Hebrew by\nbirth.\"\n\n\"Dost thou know him?\" Kenkenes asked with interest.\n\n\"Nay, he has dwelt in Midian these forty years.  He returned some time\nago and hath dwelt passively in Goshen till--\"\n\nThe artist dropped his voice and came nearer to his son.\n\n\"He hath dwelt passively in Goshen till of late, and it is whispered\nthat some secret work against him inaugurated by the priesthood, or\nmayhap the Pharaoh, hath given him provocation to revolt against\nMeneptah.\"\n\nAfter a silence Kenkenes asked in a lowered tone:\n\n\"Hath he made demonstration?\"\n\n\"O, aye, he is clamoring to lead his people a three days' journey into\nthe wilderness to make sacrifice to their god.\"\n\n\"Shades of mine ancestors!  If that is all, let them, so they return,\"\nKenkenes said amicably.\n\n\"Let them!\" the sculptor exploded.  \"Dost thou believe that they would\nreturn?\"\n\n\"I apprehend that the Rameside army would be capable of thwarting them\nif they were disposed to depart permanently.\"\n\n\"Thou dost apprehend--aye, of a truth, I know thou dost!  Halt all our\nworks of peace for an indefinite time; mass the vast army of the\nPharaoh and spend days and good arrows in retrieving the runaways,\nmerely that a barbarian god may smell the savor of holy animals\nsacrificed!  Gods!  Kenkenes, thou art as trustworthy a counselor as\nHar-hat!\"\n\nThereafter there was a silence in the work-room.  But a peppery man is\nseldom sulky, and Kenkenes was fully prepared for the mildness in his\nfather's voice when he spoke again.\n\n\"Thou shouldst see the pretense in his demand, Kenkenes.  He must have\nprovocation to urge him to rebellion, and he knows full well that\nMeneptah will not grant that petition.\"\n\n\"But hath he not provocation--thou hast but a moment ago told--\"\n\n\"But that was only an offense against him.  The whole people would not\ngo into revolt because some one had conspired against one of their\nnumber.  Therefore he telleth Israel that its God would have Israel\nmake a pilgrimage, promising curses upon the people if they obey not.\nThen he putteth the appeal to the Pharaoh and the Pharaoh denieth it.\nWherefore the whole people is enraged and hath rallied to the\nconspirator's cause.  Seest thou, my son?\"\n\n\"It is strategy worthy the Incomparable Pharaoh--\"\n\n\"It is Hebrew craft!\"\n\n\"Perhaps thou art right.  But what personal grudge hath Mesu against\nEgypt or the priesthood or Meneptah?\"\n\n\"It is said that he was wanted out of the way, and by an unfortunate\nsum of accidents, the miscarriage of a priest's letter and a fight\nbetween a messenger and Bedouins in front of a Hebrew tent, gave the\ninformation into the hands of Mesu himself.\"\n\nBy this time Kenkenes was on his feet.\n\n\"A miscarriage of a priest's letter,\" he repeated slowly.\n\nThe artist nodded.\n\nAfter the silence the young man spoke again:\n\n\"And thou believest truly that because of this letter--because of this\nIsraelite's grievance against the powers of Egypt, we shall have\nuprising and serious trouble among our bond-people?\"\n\n\"I have said,\" Mentu answered, raising his head as though surprised at\nthe earnestness in his son's voice.  Kenkenes did not meet his father's\neyes.  He turned on his heel and left the work-room.\n\nHad the spiteful Seven, the Hathors, used him as a tool whereby\nmischief should be wrought between the nation and her slaves?\n\n\n\n[1] The Fayum.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nCANAAN\n\nWhen the imperative necessity of harmonious expression became apparent,\nthe young artist laid aside his chisel and mallet, and the Arabian\ndesert knew his footsteps no more for many days after the rough-hewing\nof Athor's face.  Instead, he mingled with the people of Memphis in\nquest of the expression.  The pursuit became fascinating and\nall-absorbing.  With the most deliberate calculation, he studied the\nfaces of the betrothed and of newly wedded wives, and finding too much\nof content therein, he sought out the unelect for study.  And with\nthese, his search ended.\n\nThereafter he made innumerable heads in clay, and covered linen scrolls\nwith drawings.  But it was the semblance he gained and not the spirit.\nThe light eluded him.\n\nOn the day after Mentu's return from On, Kenkenes paid the first visit\nto Masaarah since the incident of the collar,--and the last he thought\nto make until he had won that for which he strove.  He went to bury the\nmatting in the sand and to hide other evidences of recent occupancy\nabout the niche.  He left the block of stone undisturbed, for the\ntransgression was not yet apparent on the face of Athor.  The scrolls,\nwhich had been concealed under the carpeting, were too numerous for his\nwallet to contain, but he carried the surplus openly in his hand.\n\nIt was sunset before he had made an end.  To return to the Nile by way\nof the cliff-front would have saved him time, but there was a boyish\nwish in his heart to look again on the lovely face that had helped him\nand baffled him.  So he descended into the upper end of the ravine and\nslowly passed the outskirts of the camp, but the bond-girl was nowhere\nto be seen.  The spaces between the low tents were filled with feeding\nlaborers and there was an unusual amount of cheer to be noted among\nIsrael of Masaarah.  Kenkenes heard the talk and laughter with some\nwonderment as he passed.  He admitted that he was disappointed when,\nwithout a glimpse of Rachel, he emerged into the Nile valley.  But he\nleaped lightly down the ledge, crossed the belt of rubble, talus and\ndesert sand, and entered the now well-marked wagon road between the\ndark green meadow land on either side.  Egypt was in shadow--her sun\nbehind the Libyan heights,--but the short twilight had not fallen.\nOverhead were the cooling depths of sky, as yet starless, but the river\nwas breathing on the winds and the sibilant murmur of its waters began\nto talk above the sounds of the city.  To the north, the south and the\neast was pastoral and desert quiet; to the west was the gradual\nsubsidence of urban stir.  Frogs were beginning to croak in the\ndistance, and in the long grain here and there, a nocturnal insect\nchirred and stilled abruptly as the young man passed.\n\nWithin a rod of the pier some one called:\n\n\"My master!\"\n\nThe voice came from a distance, but he knew whom he should see when he\nturned.  Half-way across the field toward the quarries Rachel was\ncoming, with a scroll in her lifted hand.  He began to retrace his\nsteps to meet her, but she noted the action and quickened her rapid\nwalk into running.\n\n\"Thou didst drop this outside the camp,\" she said as she came near.  \"I\nfeared it might have somewhat pertaining to the statue on it, and I\nhave brought it, with the permission of the taskmaster.\"  She stopped,\nand putting her hand into the folds of her habit on her breast,\nhesitated as if for words to speak further.  Kenkenes interrupted her\nwith his thanks.\n\n\"How thou hast fatigued thyself for me, Rachel!  Out of all Egypt I\ndoubt if I might find another so constant guardian of my welfare.  The\ngrace of the gods attend thee as faithfully.  I thank thee, most\ngratefully.\"\n\nThe purpose in her face dissolved, the hand that seemed to hold\nsomewhat in the folds of her habit relaxed and fell slowly.  While\nKenkenes waited for her to speak, he noted that a dress of unbleached\nlinen replaced the coarse cotton surplice she had worn before, and her\nfeet were shod with simple sandals--an extravagance among slaves.  But\nthe garb was yet too mean.  The sculptor wondered at that moment how\nthe sumptuous attire of the high-born Memphian women would become her.\nHe shook his head and in his imagination dressed her in snow-white\nrobes with but the collar of rings about her throat, and stood back to\nmarvel at his picture of splendid simplicity.\n\n\"Hast thou not something more to tell me?\" he asked kindly.  \"Do thou\nrest here on the wharf while we talk.  Art thou not quite breathless?\"\n\n\"Nay, I thank thee,\" she faltered.  \"I may not linger.\"  The hand once\nagain sought the folds over her breast.\n\n\"Then let me walk with thee on thy way.  It will be dark soon.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she protested flushing, \"and again, I thank thee.  It is not\nneedful.\"  She made a movement as if to leave him, but he stepped to\nher side.\n\n\"Out upon thee, daughter of Israel, thou art ungracious,\" he\nremonstrated laughingly.  \"I can not think thee so wondrous brave.  For\nit is a long walk to the camp and the night will be pitch-black.  Why\nmay I not go with thee?\"\n\n\"There is naught to be feared.\"\n\n\"Of a truth?  Those hills are as full of wild beasts as Amenti is of\nspirits.  And even if no hurt befell thee, the trepidation of that long\njourney would be cruel.  Nay; Ptah, the gallant god, would spurn my\nnext offering, did I send thee back to camp alone.  Wilt thou come?\"\n\nShe bowed and dropped behind him.  Her resolution to maintain the forms\nof different rank between them was not characteristic of other slaves\nhe had known.  There was no presumption or humble gratitude in her\nmanner when he would offer her the courtesies of an equal, but he had\nmet the disdain of a peer once when he thought he talked with a slave.\nThere was something mocking in her perfunctory deference, but her pride\nwas genuine.  Her conduct seemed to say: \"I would liefer be a Hebrew\nand a slave than a princess of the God-forgotten realm of Egypt.\"\n\nThe young sculptor was unruffled, however.  He was turning over in his\nmind, with interest, the evidence that tended to show that the\nIsraelite had something more to tell him, that her courage had failed\nher, and that her hand had sought something concealed in her dress.  He\nrecalled the former meetings with her and arrived at a surmise so\nsudden and so conclusive that with difficulty he kept himself from\nmaking outward demonstration of his conviction.  \"The collar, by Apis!\nI offended her with the trinket.  And she came to make me take it back,\nbut her courage fled.  Pie upon my clumsy gallantries!  I must make\namends.  I would not have her hate me.\"\n\nHe broke the silence with an old, old remark--one that Adam might have\nmade to Eve.\n\n\"Look at the stars, Rachel.  There is a dark casement in the heavens--a\nblink of the eye and the lamp is alight.\"\n\n\"So I watch them every night.  But they are swifter here in Memphis.\nAt Mendes, where Israel toiled once, they are more deliberate,\" she\nanswered readily.\n\n\"Aye, but you should see them at Philae.  They ignite and bound into\nbrilliance like sparks of meeting metal and flint.  Ah, but the tropics\nare precipitate!\"\n\n\"I know them not,\" she ventured.\n\n\"Their acquaintance is better avoided.  They have no mean--they leap\nfrom extreme to extreme.  They are violent, immoderate.  It is instant\nnight and instant day; it is the maddest passion of summer always.\nNature reigns at the top of her voice and chokes her realm with the\nfervor of her maternity.  Nay, give me the north.  I would feel the\nearth's pulse now and then without burning my fingers.\"\n\n\"There is room for choice in this land of thine,\" she mused after a\nlittle.\n\n\"Land of mine?\" he repeated inquiringly, turning his head to look at\nher.  \"Is it not also thine?\"\n\n\"Nay, it is not the Hebrews' and it never was,\" the clear answer came\nfrom the dusk behind him.\n\n\"So!\" he exclaimed.  \"After four hundred years in Egypt they have not\nadopted her!\"\n\n\"We have but sojourned here a night.  The journey's end is farther on.\"\n\n\"Israel hath made a long night of the sojourn,\" he rejoined laughingly.\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered.  \"Thou hast not said aright.  It is Egypt that\nhath made a long night of our sojourn.\"\n\nThere was a silence in which Kenkenes felt accused and uncomfortable.\nIt would require little to make harsh the temper of the talk.  It lay\nwith him, one of the race of offenders, to make amends.\n\n\"It is for me to admit Egypt's sin and ask a truce,\" he said gently.\n\"So be thou generous to me, since it is I who am abashed in her stead.\"\n\nAgain there was silence, broken at last by the Israelite in a voice\ngrown wondrously contrite.\n\n\"I do not reproach thee.  Nor, indeed, is all Egypt at fault.  The sin\nlies with the Pharaohs.\"\n\n\"Ah! the gods forbid!\" he protested.  \"Lay it on the shoulders of\nbabes, if thou wilt, but I am party to treason if I but give ear to a\nrebuke of the monarch.\"\n\n\"I am not ignorant of the law.  I shall spare thee, but I have\npurchased my right to condemn the king.\"\n\n\"Thou indomitable!  And I accused thee of fear.  I retract.  But tell\nme--what is the journey's end?  Is it the ultimate goal of all flesh?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" she answered proudly.  \"It is Israel's inheritance promised\nfor four hundred years.  The time is ripe for possession.  We go\nforward to enter into a land of our own.\"\n\n\"Thou givest me news.  Come, be the Hebrews' historian and enlighten\nme.  Where lies the land?\"\n\nRachel hesitated.  To her it was a serious problem to decide whether\nthe lightness of the sculptor's tone were mockery or good fellowship.\nKenkenes noted her silence and spoke again.\n\n\"Perchance I ask after a hieratic secret.  If so, forgive the blunder.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she replied at once.  \"It is no secret.  All Egypt will know of\nit ere long.  God hath prepared us a land wherein we may dwell under no\nmaster but Jehovah.  We go hence shortly to enter it.  The captain of\nIsrael will lead us thither and Jehovah will show him the way.  Abraham\nwas informed that it was a wondrous land wherein the olive and the\ngrape will crown the hills; the corn will fill the valleys; the cattle\nand sheep, the pasture lands.  There will be many rivers instead of one\nand the desert will lie afar off from its confines.  The sun will shine\nand the rain will fall and the winds will blow as man needeth them, and\nthere will be no slavery and no heavy life therein.  The land shall be\nIsrael's and its enemies shall crouch without its borders, confounded\nat the splendor of the children of God.  And there will our princes\narise and a throne be set up and a mighty nation established.  Cities\nwill shine white and strong-walled on the heights, and caravans of\ncommerce will follow down the broad roadways to the sea.  There will\nthe ships of Israel come bowing over the waters with the riches of the\nworld, and our wharves will be crowded with purple and gold and\nfrankincense.  Babylon shall do homage on the right hand and Egypt upon\nthe left, and the straight smoke from Jehovah's altar will rise from\nthe center unfailing by day or by night.\"\n\nThey had reached the ledge and Kenkenes sat down on it, leaning on one\nhand across Rachel's way.  She paused near him.  Even in the dark he\ncould see the light in her eyes, and the joy of anticipation was in her\nvoice.  As yet he did not know whether she talked of the Israelitish\nconception of supernal life, or of a belief in a temporal redemption.\n\n\"And there shall be no death nor any of the world-sorrows therein?\" he\nasked.\n\n\"Since we shall dwell in the world we may not escape the world's\nuncertainties,\" she replied, looking at his lifted face.  \"But most men\nlive better lives when they live happily, and I doubt not there will be\nless unhappiness, provident or fortuitous, in Israel, the nation, than\nin Israel, enslaved.\"\n\nSo the slave talked of freedom as slaves talk of it--hopefully and\neloquently.  A pity asserted itself in the young sculptor's heart and\ngrew to such power that it tinctured his speech.\n\n\"Is thy heart then so firmly set on this thing?\" he asked gently.\n\n\"It is the hope that bears Israel's burdens and the balm that heals the\nwelt of the lash.\"\n\nAnd in the young man's heart he said it was a vain hope, a happy\ndelusion that might serve to make the harsh bondage endurable till time\ndispelled it.  The simple words of the girl were eloquent portrayal of\nIsrael's plight, and Kenkenes subsided into a sorry state of helpless\nsympathy.  She was not long in interpreting his silence.\n\n\"Vain hope, is it?\" she said.  \"And how shall it come to pass in the\nface of the Pharaoh's denial and the might of Egypt's arms?  Thou art\nyoung and so am I, but both of us remember Rameses.  There has been\nnone like him.  He overthrew the world, did he not?  And it was a hard\ntask and a precarious and a long one, when he but measured arms with\nmortals.  Is it not a problem worthy the study to ponder how he might\nhave fared in battle with a god?\"\n\nKenkenes lifted his head suddenly and regarded her.\n\n\"Aye,\" she continued, \"I have given thee food for thought.  Futile\nindeed were Israel's hopes if it set itself unaided against the\nPharaoh.  But the God of Israel hath appointed His hour and hath\nalready descended into fellowship with His chosen people.  He hath\npromised to lead us forth, and the Divine respects a promise.  So a God\nagainst a Pharaoh.  Doth it not appear to thee, Egyptian, that there\napproaches a marvelous time?\"\n\n\"Give me but faith in the hypothesis and I shall say, of a surety,\" he\nreplied.\n\n\"Thou hast said.  Shall we not go on, my master?\"\n\n\"I am Kenkenes, the son of Mentu,\" he told her.\n\nShe bent her head in acknowledgment of the introduction and moved\nforward as if to climb up by the projecting edges of the strata.  But\nhe put a powerful arm about her and lifted her into the valley.  With a\nlight bound he was beside her.  Ahead of them was profound darkness,\nhedged by black and close-drawn walls and canopied by distant and\nunillumining stars.  She resumed her place behind him though he was\nmoved to protest, but her deliberate manner seemed to demand its way.\nSo they continued slowly.\n\n\"Thou givest me interest in the God of Israel,\" he said, to reopen the\nsubject.  \"The Egyptian dwells in his gods, but thou sayest that the\nGod of Israel dwells in Israel.\"\n\n\"Even so.  But thou speakest of Israel's God, even after the fashion of\nmy people.  They are jealous, saying that the true God hath but one\nlove and that is Israel.  If they would think it, let them, but He is\nthe all-God, of all the earth, the One God--thy God as well as mine.\"\n\n\"Mine!\" Kenkenes exclaimed.\n\n\"Thou hast said.\"\n\n\"Now, by all things worshipful, this is news.  I had ever thought that\nour gods are those to whom we bow.  Either thou sayest wrong or I have\nbeen remiss in my devotions.\"\n\n\"Nay, listen,\" she said earnestly, stepping to his side.  \"Already have\nI told thee of the captain of Israel.  He was reared among princes in\nthe house of the Pharaoh, and he is learned in all the wisdom of Egypt.\nHe instructeth the elders concerning Jehovah, and from mouth to mouth\nhis wisdom traverseth till it reacheth the ears of the young.  This,\nthen, I have from the lips of Moses, who speaketh naught but the truth.\nIn early times all on earth had perished for wickedness by the sending\nof the One God, save a holy man and his three sons.  These men\nworshiped the God of Abraham, who was the father of Israel.  One of the\nsons founded thy race, saith Moses, and one established mine.  The\ntribes that went into Egypt worshiped the same God.  Lo, is it not\nwritten in the early tombs?  So Moses testifieth, but if thou doubtest,\ngo question thy historians.  And some of the tribes called that God Ra,\nothers, Ptah, and yet others, Amen.  But in time they quarreled and\neach tribe refused to admit the identity of the three-named One God,\nsaying, 'Thy god sendeth plague and affliction, and ours sendeth rich\nharvests and the Nile floods.'  Did not the same God do each of these\nthings in His wisdom?  Even so.  But when they were at last united into\none great people, they had forgotten the quarrel, forgotten that in the\nbeginning they had worshiped one God, and they bowed down to three\ninstead.  Nay, if there were but one among you who dared, there are\nloose threads fluttering, which, if drawn, might unravel the whole\nfabric of idolatry and disclose that which it hides--the One God--the\nGod of Abraham.\"\n\nKenkenes had walked in silence, looking down into the luminous eyes,\nlost in wonder.  Rachel suddenly realized at what length she had talked\nand stopped abruptly, dropping back to her place again as if chidden.\n\n\"Come,\" said Kenkenes, noting her action, \"walk beside me, priestess.\nI would hear more of this.  It is like all forbidden things--wondrously\nalluring.\"\n\n\"I did forget,\" she answered stubbornly.  \"There is nothing more.\"\n\nKenkenes stopped.\n\n\"Come,\" he insisted.  \"The teacher rather precedes the pupil.  At\nleast, thou shalt walk beside me.\"\n\n\"I pray thee, let us go on.  We are not yet at the camp--we have walked\nso slowly,\" she answered.  At that moment several fragments of rock,\nloosening, slid down in the dark just behind her.  She caught her\nbreath and was beside the young artist in an instant.  He laughed in\nsheer delight.\n\n\"Thou hast assembled the spirits by thy blasphemy,\" he said.  \"And\nremember, I must soon return to this haunted place alone.\"\n\n\"Thou canst get a brand of fire or a cudgel at the camp,\" she said with\nsome remorse in her voice, \"and run for the river bank.\"  With that she\nresumed her place behind him.\n\nKenkenes laughed again.  It gave him uncommon pleasure to know that his\nmodel was concerned for him.  He put out his hand and deliberately drew\nher up to his side.  Not content with that he bent his arm and put her\nhand under it and into his palm, so that she could not leave him again.\nShe submitted reluctantly, but her fingers, lost in his warm clasp,\nwere cold and ill at ease.  He felt their chill and released her to\nslip about her shoulders the light woolen mantle he had worn.  Her\napprehension lest he take her hand again was so evident that he\nrefrained, though he slackened his step and kept with her.\n\nBut she spoke no more until they were beside the outermost circle of\ncoals that had been a cooking fire for the camp.  Here they met a man,\nwhom, by his superior dress, Kenkenes took to be the taskmaster.  They\nwere almost upon him before he was seen.\n\n\"Rachel!\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Here am I,\" she answered, a little anxiously.\n\n\"Thou wast gone long--\" he began.\n\nThe sculptor interposed.\n\n\"She hath done me a service and it was my pleasure to talk with her,\"\nhe said complacently.  \"Chide her not.\"\n\nThe glow from the fire lighted the young man's face, and the\ntaskmaster, standing in deep shadow, scanned it sharply but did not\nanswer.  Kenkenes turned and strode away down the valley.\n\nRachel snatched a thick sycamore club which had been left over in the\nconstruction of the scaffold and ran after him.  But the young sculptor\nhad disappeared in the dark.\n\n\"Kenkenes,\" she cried at last desperately.  He answered immediately.\n\nShe slipped off the mantle.\n\n\"This, thy mantle,\" she said when he approached, \"and this,\" thrusting\nthe club into his hands.  \"There is as much danger in the valley for\nthee as for me.\"\n\nAnd like a shadow she was gone.\n\nAs he hurried on again through the dense gloom of the ravine, the young\nman thought long on the Israelite and her words.  She had offered him\ntheories that peremptorily contradicted the accepted idea among\nEgyptians, that Moses was inspired by a personal motive of revenge.\nThe argument put forth by his father began to show sundry weaknesses.\nFurthermore Rachel's version gave him a much coveted opportunity to\nslip from his shoulders the discomforting blame that had rested there\nsince he had heard that a miscarried letter might effect a national\ndisturbance.  Much as the practical side of his nature sought to decry\nthe great Hebrew's motive, a sense of relief possessed him.\n\n\"I fear me, Kenkenes, thou durst not boast thyself an embroiler of\nnations,\" he said to himself.  \"The Hebrew prince is a zealot, and\nzealots have no fear for their lives.  Truly those Israelites are an\nuncommon and a proud people.  But, by Besa, is she not beautiful!\"\n\nHe enlarged on this latter thought at such exhaustive length that he\nhad traversed the valley and field, found his boat, crossed the Nile\nand was at home before he had made an end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE COMING OF THE PHARAOH\n\nOn the first day of February, runners, dusty, breathless and excited,\npassed the sentries of the Memphian palace of Meneptah with the news\nthat the Pharaoh was but a day's journey from his capital.  They were\nthe last of a series of couriers that had kept the city informed of the\nking's advance.  For days before, public drapers were to be seen\nclinging cross-legged to obelisk and peristyle; moving in spread-eagle\nfashion, hung in a jacket of sail-cloth attached to cables, across the\nfronts of buildings, looping garlands, besticking banners and spreading\ntapestries.  Scattering sounds of hammer and saw continued even through\nthe night.  The city's metals were polished, her streets were sprinkled\nand rolled, her stone wharves scoured, her landings painted, her\nflambeaux new-soaked in pitch.  The gardens, the storehouses and the\nwine-lofts felt unusual draft for the festivities, and the great\ncapital was decked and scented like a bride.\n\nNow, on the eve of the Pharaoh's coming, the preparations were\ncomplete.  The city was full of excitement and pleasant expectancy.\nOnly once before during the six years of Meneptah's reign had such\nenthusiasm prevailed.  When the Rebu horde descended upon Egypt,\nMeneptah had sent his generals out to meet the invader, but he,\nhimself, had remained under cover in Memphis because he said the stars\nwere unpropitious.  And this was the son of Rameses II, than whom, if\nthe historians and the singer Pentaur say true, there was never a more\npuissant monarch!  But when the marauder was overthrown and routed, and\nhis generals turned toward Memphis with their captives in chains,\nMeneptah hastened to meet them, decked his chariot with war trophies\nand entered his capital in triumph.  He was hailed with exultant\nacclaim.\n\n\"Hail, mighty Pharaoh! who smites with his glance and annihilates with\nhis spear.  He overthrew companies alone, and with his lions he routed\narmies.  His enemies crumbled before him like men of clay, for he\nbreathed hot coals in his wrath and flames in his vengeance.\"  And the\nenthusiasm that inspired the eulogy was sincere.  Meneptah was none the\nless loved because Memphis understood him.  The Pharaoh was the apple\nof her eye and she worshiped him stubbornly.\n\nNow he was returning from a bloodless campaign--one that neither\nrequired nor brought forth any generalship--but it was a victory and\nhad been personally conducted by Meneptah, so Memphis was preparing to\nfall into paroxysms of delight, little short of hysteria.\n\nAn hour after sunrise on the day of the Pharaoh's coming a gorgeous\nregatta assembled off the wharves of Memphis.  It was a flotilla of the\nrank and wealth of the capital, with that of On, Bubastis, Busiris, and\neven Mendes and Tanis.  The boats were high-riding, graceful and\nfinished at head and stern with sheaves of carved lotus.  Hull and\nsuperstructure were painted in gorgeous colors with a preponderance of\nivory and gold.  Masts, rigging and oars were wrapped with lotus, roses\nand mimosa.  Sails and canopies were brilliant with dyes and undulant\nwith fringes.  Troops of tiny boys, innocent of raiment, were posted\nabout the sides of the vessels holding festoons.  Oarsmen wore chaplets\non the head or garlands around the loins, and half-clad slave-girls\nwere scattered about with fans of dyed plumes.  Bridges of boats had\nbeen hastily run out between the vessels, and over these the embarking\nvoyagers or visitors passed in a stream.  On shore was a great\nmultitude and every advantageous point of survey was occupied.  And\nhere were catastrophes and riots, panics and love-making, gambling and\ngossip and all the other things that mark the assembly of a crowd.  But\nthese incidents drew the attention of the populace only momentarily\nfrom the revel of the nobility on the Nile.  For there were laughter\nand songs, strumming of the lyre, shouts, polite contention and the\ndrone of general conversation among such numbers that the sound was of\ngreat volume.\n\nAt the head of the pageant were the boats of the nomarch and the\ncourtiers to Meneptah who remained in Memphis.  Near the forefront of\nthese was the pleasure-boat of Mentu.\n\nKenkenes dropped from its deck to the walk rising and falling at its\nside, and made his way through the crowd in search of a vessel bearing\na winged sun and the oval containing the symbols of On.  As he passed\nthe prow of a tall pleasure-boat he was caught in a rope of flowers let\ndown from above and looped about him with a dexterous hand.  He turned\nin the pretty fetters and looked up.  Above him was a row of a dozen\nlittle girl-faces, set like apple-blossoms along the side of the\nvessel.  The youngest was not over twelve years of age, the oldest,\nfourteen.  Each rosy countenance was rippled with laughter, but the\nsound was lost in the great turmoil about them.  In the center of the\ngroup, a pair of hands put forth under the chin of an older girl, held\nthe ends of the garland with a determined grip.  Her eyes were gray,\nher hair was chestnut, her face very fair.  Kenkenes recognized her\nwith a sudden warmth about his heart.  The others were strangers to\nhim.  A glance at the plate on the side of the boat showed him that\nthis was the one he sought.  Most willingly he obeyed the insistent\nsummons of the garland and permitted himself to be drawn to the barge.\nThere, the same hands showed him the ladder against the side, and a\ndozen pretty arms were extended to haul him aboard as he climbed.\n\nBut the instant he planted foot on the deck the lovely rout retreated\nto shelter at the side of a smiling woman seated in the shadow of fans.\nOnly his fair-faced captor stood her ground.\n\n\"Hail, Hapi,\" [1] she cried, doing obeisance.  \"Pity the desert.\"  She\nflung wide her hands.  With the exception of the youths at the oars\nthere was no other man on the boat.\n\n\"Ye may call me forth,\" Kenkenes replied, \"but how shall ye return me\nto my banks?  Hither, sweet On,\" he continued, catching the hand of the\nfair-faced girl, \"submit first to submergence.\"  She took his kisses\nwillingly.  \"This for Seti, thy lover; this for Hotep, thy brother, and\nthis for me who am both in one.  How thou art grown, Io!\"\n\n\"But she hath not denied thee the babyhood privileges for all that,\nKenkenes,\" the smiling woman said.\n\n\"It is an excellent example of submission she hath set, Lady Senci,\" he\nreplied, advancing toward the young girls about her.  \"Let us see if it\nprevail.\"\n\nBut the troop scattered with little cries of dismay.\n\n\"Nay,\" he observed, as he bent over Senci's hand, \"never were two maids\nalike, and I shall not strive to make them so.\"\n\n\"Thy father hath most graciously kept his word in sending us a\nprotector,\" Senci continued, \"My nosegay of beauties drooped last night\nwhen they arrived from On with my brother sick, aboard.  They feared\nthey must stop with me in Memphis for want of a man.\"\n\n\"It was the first word I heard from my father this morning and the last\nwhen I left him even now: 'Io's father hath failed her through\nsickness, so do thou look after the Lady Senci--and the gods give thee\ngrace for once to do a thing well!'\"\n\nThe lady smiled and patted his arm.  \"He did not fear; he knew whom he\nchose.  But behold our gallant escort--the nomarch ahead, beside us the\nnew cup-bearer and behind us all the rank of the north.\"\n\n\"Aye, and when we cast off thou mayest look for the new murket on thy\nright.\"\n\nThe lady blushed.  \"I have not seen thy father yet, this morning.\"\n\n\"So?  His robes must fit poorly.\"\n\nAt that moment a gang-plank was run across from the broad flat stern of\nthe nomarch's boat to the prow of Senci's, a carpet was spread on it,\nand Ta-meri, with little shrieks and tottering steps, came across it.\nKenkenes put out his arms to her and lifted her down when she arrived.\n\n\"Wonder brought me,\" she cried.  \"I dreamed I saw thee kiss a maiden\nthrice and I came to see if it were true.\"\n\n\"O most honest vision!  It is true and this is she,\" Kenkenes answered,\nindicating Io.\n\nTa-meri flung up her hands and gazed at the blushing girl with wide\neyes.\n\n\"Enough,\" she said at last.  \"It is indeed a marvel.  Never have I seen\nsuch a thing before, and never shall I see it again.\"\n\n\"And if that be true, fie and for shame, Kenkenes,\" Senci chid\nlaughingly.\n\n\"Ta-meri always shuts her eyes,\" the sculptor defended himself stoutly.\nThe nomarch's daughter caught his meaning first and covered her face\nwith her hands.  The chorus of laughter did not drown her protests.\n\n\"Kenkenes, thou art a mortal plague!\" she exclaimed behind her defense.\n\n\"Truce,\" he said.  \"Thou didst accuse me and I did defend myself.  We\nare even.\"\n\n\"Nay, but am I also even with Ta-meri?\" Io asked shyly.\n\n\"Now,\" Senci cried, \"which of ye will say 'aye' or 'nay' to that!\"\n\nTa-meri retreated protesting to the prow again, but the gang-plank had\nbeen withdrawn.  An army of slaves were breaking up the bridges of\nboats.  The oars of the nomarch's barge rose and fell and the vessel\nbore away.  Ta-meri cried out again when she saw it depart but she made\nno effort to stay it.\n\n\"Come back, Ta-meri,\" Io called.  \"I shall not press thee for an\naccounting.\"\n\nThe lanes of water between the boats cleared, the scented sails filled,\nthe bristling fringes of oars dipped and flashed, a great shout arose\nfrom the populace on shore and the shining pageant moved away toward\nThebes.  The barge of Nechutes swung into position on the left of\nSenci--the oars on Mentu's boat rose and halted and the vessel drifted\ntill it was alongside her right.  Kenkenes put his arm about Io, who\nstood beside him and whispered exultantly or irreverently concerning\nthe vigilance of the cup-bearer and the murket.\n\n\"And,\" he continued oracularly, \"there will be a third attending us\nwhen we return, if thou hast been coy with the gentle Seti during his\nlong absence.\"\n\n\"Nay, I have sent him messages faithfully and in no little point have I\nfailed him in constancy.  But I can not see why he should love me, who\nam to the court-ladies as a thrush to peafowls.  He writes me such\npraise of Ta-user.\"\n\n\"Now, Io!  Art thou so little versed in the ways of men that thou dost\nwonder why we love or how we love or whom we love?  The very fact that\nthou art different from Seti's surroundings is like to make him love\nthee best.\"\n\n\"I am not jealous; only he hath so much to tell of Ta-user.\"\n\n\"Aye, since she is like to become his sister, it is not strange.  But\nwhat says he of her?\"\n\nIo thrust her hand into the mist of gauzes over her bosom and with a\nsoft flush on her cheeks drew forth a small, flattened roll of linen.\nKenkenes made a place for her on his chair and drew her down beside\nhim.  Together the pair undid the scroll and Kenkenes, following the\ntiny pink finger, came upon these words:\n\n\"Ah, thou shouldst see her, my sweet.  Thou knowest she was born of a\nprince of Egypt and a lovely Tahennu, and the mingling of our dusky\nblood with that of a fair-haired northern people, hath wrought a\nmarvelous beauty in Ta-user.  Her hair is like copper and like copper\nher eyes.  There is no brownness nor any flush in her skin.  It is like\nthick cream, smooth, soft and cool.  And when she walks, she minds me\nof my grandsire's leopardess, which once did stride from shadow to\nshadow in the palace with that undulatory, unearthly grace.  In nature,\nshe is world-compelling.  When first she met me, she took my face\nbetween her palms and gazed into mine eyes.  Ai! she bewitched me, then\nand there.  My individuality died within me--I felt an unreasoning\nsubmission, strangely mingled with aversion.  I was compelled--divorced\nfrom mine own forces, which vaguely protested from afar. . . .  And\nyet, thou shouldst see her meet Rameses.  He makes me marvel.  He\nknows--she knows--aye, all Egypt knows why she hath come to court, and\nyet they meet--she salutes him with bewildering grace--he inclines his\nproud head with never a tremor and they pass.  Or, if they tarry to\ntalk, it is an awesome sight to see the determined encounter of two\nmighty souls--tremendous charm against tremendous resistance--and Io, I\nknow that they have sounded to the deepest the depth of each other's\nstrength.  I long to see Ta-user conquer--and yet, again I would not.\"\n\nThereafter followed matters which Kenkenes did not read.  He rolled the\nletter and gave it back to Io.  The little girl sat expectantly\nwatching his face.\n\n\"Nay, I would not take Seti's boyish transports seriously,\" he said\ngently.  \"His very frankness disclaims any heart interest in Ta-user.\nBesides, she is as old as I--three whole Nile-floods older than the\nprince.  She thinks on him as Senci looks on me--he regards her as a\nlad looks up to gracious womanhood.  Nay, fret not, thou dear jealous\nchild.\"\n\nIo's lips quivered as she looked away.\n\n\"It is over and over--ever the same in every letter--Ta-user, Ta-user,\ntill I hate the name,\" she said at last.\n\n\"Then when thou seest him at midday up the Nile, be thou gracious to\nsome other comely young nobleman and see him wince.  Naught is so good\nfor a lover as uncertainty.  It is a mistake to load him with the great\nweight of thy love.  Doubt not, thou shalt carry all the burden of\njealousy and pain if thou dost.  Divide this latter with him, and he\nshall be content to share more of the first with thee.  But thou hast\ncondemned him without trial, Io.  Spare thy heart the hurt and wait.\"\n\nThe young face cleared and with a little sigh she settled back in the\nchair and said no more.\n\nIt was noon when the royal flotilla was sighted.  There were nineteen\nbarges approaching in the form of two crescents like a parenthesis, the\nhorns up and down the Nile, and in the center of the inclosed space was\nMeneptah's float.  Here was only the royal family, the king, queen,\nTa-user, and the two princes, who took the place of fan-bearers in\nattendance on their father.  The vessel was manned by two reliefs of\ntwelve oarsmen from Theban nobility.\n\nIf magnificence came to conduct Meneptah, it met splendor as its\ncharge.  The pastoral solitude of the Middle country was routed for the\nmoment by an assemblage of the brilliance and power of all Egypt.\n\nWith a shout that made the remote hills reply again and again, the\nconvoy divided, a half retreating to either side of the Nile and the\nhome-coming fleet entered the hollow.  The nomarch's boat detached\nitself from its following and took up a position in the center, beside\nthe royal barge.  The advance was delayed only long enough for the\nescort to turn, take in the sails--for they went against the wind\nnow--and form an outer parenthesis.  Then with another shout the\ntriumphant return began.\n\nThe other fleet absorbed the attention of each voyager.  Every barge\nhad a new-comer alongside and near enough to talk across the water.\nTherefore a great babel and confusion arose in which rational\nconversation became impossible.  Then vessels essayed to approach\nnearer one another and the formation began to break.  The right oars of\none boat and the left of another would be withdrawn and the vessels\nlashed together.  Then they were permitted to drift, with some poling\nto keep them in the proper direction.  When this proceeding was\nimpracticable because of the construction of the barges, one boat would\ntake another in tow until the occupants of one had joined those of the\nother by a gang-plank laid from prow to stern.  By sunset the\nmerrymaking had developed into indiscriminate boarding.  Only the\nvessels of the king and the nomarch and the barge of Senci were not\ninvolved in the uproarious revel that followed.  The fates were amiable\nand no mishaps occurred in spite of the recklessness of the pastime.\nMen and women alike took part in the play, and the general temper of\nthe merrymakers was good-natured and innocent.\n\nThe dusk fell and the shadows of night were made seductive by the dim\nlamps that began to burn from mast-top and prow.  On the barge of Senci\nonly a single and subdued light was swung from a bronze tripod in the\nbow, and the fourteen charges of the young sculptor, wearied with the\nlong day's excitement, were disposed in graceful abandon under its\nglow.  Senci sat with Ta-meri's head in her lap, and three or four\ndrowsy little girls were tumbled about her feet.  Only Io was wide\nawake, and even her sweet face wore a pensive air.  Kenkenes had\nretired to the stern, where, under the high up-standing end, stood a\nlong wooden bench.  The young sculptor had flung himself on this, and\nwith the whole of the boat and its freight within range of his vision,\nhe listened to the riot about him.\n\nSuddenly the sound of cautiously wielded oars attracted his attention.\nIn the end of the boat was a hawser-hole, painted and shaped like the\neye of Osiris.  Kenkenes turned about on his couch and watched through\nthis aperture.\n\nA barge, judiciously darkened, emerged into the circle of faint\nradiance about Senci's boat.  There were probably a dozen Theban nobles\nof various ages grouped in attitudes of hushed expectancy in the bow.\nOne robust peer, with a boat-hook in his hand, leaned over the prow.\nAnother, barely older than fourteen, had mounted the side of the boat,\nand steadying himself by the shoulder of a young lord, gazed ahead at\nthe group in the bow of Senci's boat.\n\n\"By the horns of Isis,\" he whispered in disgust, \"the most of them are\nbabes!\"\n\nThe robust noble turned his head and jeered good-naturedly under his\nbreath.\n\n\"Mark the infant sneering at the buds.  But be of cheer.  One is there,\nripe enough to sate your green appetite.\"\n\n\"Nay! do you distribute them now?  Let me make my choice, then.\"\n\nBut a general chorus of whispered protests arose.\n\n\"Hold, not so fast.  The fan-bearer first.  'Twas he who hit upon the\nplan.\"\n\nThe nose of the pursuing boat crept alongside the stern of the one\npursued, and the oars rested in obedience to a whispered order.  The\ndiagonal current which moved out from the Arabian shore, and the\nbackward wash of water from the oars of the forward boat, heaved the\nhead of the nobles' barge toward its object.  The robust courtier\nleaned forward and made fast to his captive with the hook.  A sigh of\napproval and excitement ran through the group.\n\n\"Gods! how they will scatter!\" the young lord tittered nervously.\n\n\"Nay, now, there must be no such thing,\" the robust noble said,\naddressing them all.  \"Mind you, we but come as guests.  It shall be\nleft to the ladies to say how we shall abide with them.  Show me a\nlight.\"\n\nThe instant brilliance that followed proved that a hood had been lifted\nfrom a lamp.  One of the men held a cloak between it and the group on\nSenci's boat.  Kenkenes raised himself.  The lamp discovered to his\nangry eyes the face of Har-hat.\n\n\"Now, hold this hook for me while I get aboard,\" the fan-bearer\nchuckled.\n\nWith a single step the young sculptor crossed to the side of the barge\nand wrenched the hook from the hands of the man that held it.  For a\nmoment he poised it above him, struggling with a mighty desire to bring\nit down on the head of the startled fan-bearer.  The youthful lord\ndropped from his point of vantage and half of the group retreated\nprecipitately.  Har-hat drew back slowly and raised himself, as\nKenkenes lowered the weapon.  For a space the two regarded each other\nsavagely.  The contemplation endured only the smallest part of a\nmoment, but it was eloquent of the bitterest mutual antagonism.  There\nwas no relaxing in the rigid lines of the young sculptor's figure, but\nthe fan-bearer recovered himself immediately.\n\n\"Forestalled!\" he laughed.  \"Retreat!  We would not steal another man's\nbliss though it be fourteen times his share!\"\n\nThe oars fell and the boat darted back into the night, the affable\nsound of Har-hat's raillery receding into silence with it.\n\nKenkenes flung the boat-hook into the Nile and returned to his bench,\npuzzled at the inordinate passion of hate in his heart for the\nfan-bearer.\n\nAt the end of the first watch the flotilla drifted into Memphis.\nBonfires so vast as to suggest conflagrations made the long water-front\nas brilliant as day.  Far up the slope toward the city the red light\ndiscovered a great multitude, densely packed and cheering tumultuously.\nAmid the uproar one by one the barges approached and discharged their\noccupants along the wharves.  Soldiery in companies drove a roadway\nthrough the mass from time to time, by which the arrivals might enter\nMemphis, though few of these departed at once.  When the Lady Senci's\nbarge drew up, Mentu forced his way through the increasing crowd to\nmeet and assist its occupants to alight.  Kenkenes, still on deck, was\nhanding his charges down the stairway one by one, when he saw Io, who\nstood at the very end of the line, lean over the side, her face aglow\nwith joy.  Kenkenes guessed the cause of her delight and, deserting his\npost, went to her side.  Below stood Seti, on tiptoe, his hands\nupstretched against the tall hull.\n\n\"O, I can not reach thee,\" he was crying.  Kenkenes caught up the\ntrembling, blushing, repentant girl and lowered her plump into the\nprince's eager arms.\n\nWhen Kenkenes saw her an hour later, he lifted her out of her curricle\nbefore the portals of Senci's house.\n\n\"What did I tell thee?\" he said softly.\n\nBut the little girl clung to his arms and leaned against him with a sob.\n\n\"O Kenkenes,\" she whispered, \"he came but to drag me away to look upon\nher!\"\n\n\"Didst go?\" he asked.\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered fiercely.\n\nAfter a silence Kenkenes spoke again:\n\n\"He does not love her, Io.  Believe me.  I doubt not the sorceress hath\nbewitched him, but he would not rush after a whilom sweetheart to have\nher look upon a new one.  Rather would he strive to cover up his\nfaithlessness.  But he hath been untrue to thee in this--that he shares\na thought with the witch when his whole mind should be full of thee.\nBide thy time till he emerges from the spell, then make him writhe.\nMeantime, save thy tears.  Never was a man worth one of them.\"\n\nHe kissed her again and set her inside Senci's house.\n\nBut one remained now of the procession he had escorted from the river.\nThis was the Lady Ta-meri's litter, and his own chariot stood ahead of\nit.  She had lifted the curtains and was piling the opposite seat with\ncushions in a manner unmistakably inviting.  He hesitated a moment.\nShould he dismiss his charioteer and journey to the nomarch's mansion\nin the companionable luxury of the litter?  But even while he debated\nwith himself, he passed her with a soft word and stepped into his\nchariot.\n\n\n\n[1] The inundation, more properly Nilus--the river-god.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE MARGIN OF THE NILE\n\nMeneptah having come and the old regime of life resumed, Memphis\nsubsided into her normal state of dignity.  Mentu remained in his house\npreparing for his investiture with the office of murket.  His hours\nwere spent in study, and the coming and going of Kenkenes crossed his\nconsciousness as swiftly as the shadows wavered under his young palms.\nHis son might work for hours near him on mysterious drawings, but so\ndeep was the great artist in the writings of the old murkets that he\ndid not think to ask him what he did.  It might not have won his\nattention even had he seen the young man burn the sheets of papyrus\nthereafter, and grow restless and dissatisfied.  He remarked, however,\nthat Kenkenes was absent during the noon-meal, but when the sundown\nrepast was served and the young man was in his place, Mentu had\nforgotten that he had not been there at midday.\n\nKenkenes had visited his niche in the Arabian desert.  On his way to\nthe statue he came to the line of rocks where he had hidden himself to\nget Athor's likeness, and looked down into the quarry opposite him.  He\nwas astonished to see at the ledge, just below, a great water-cart with\nthree humped oxen attached.  The water-bearers were grouped about it\nand a Hebrew youth was drawing off the water in skins and jars.  The\nchildren received their burdens from his hands and passed up the wooden\nincline to the scaffold.  There Kenkenes saw that the incline had been\nextended to the level of the platform, and the children were able to\ndeliver the hides directly into the hands of the laborers.  Then it\noccurred to Kenkenes that there was not a woman in sight about the\nquarries.  While he wondered, Rachel emerged from the windings of the\nvalley into the open space below.\n\nShe carried a band of linen and a small box of horn in her hand.  When\nthe young bearers saw her, one of them, who had been rubbing his eye,\ncame to her.  She set her box upon an outstanding edge of stone and\ndevoted herself to him.  Drawing his head back until it rested against\nher bosom, with tender hands she dressed the injured optic with balm\nfrom the box.\n\nKenkenes from his aery watched her, noting with a softening countenance\nthe almost maternal love that beautified her face.  Now and then she\nspoke soothingly as the boy flinched, but her words were so softly said\nthat the sculptor did not catch them.  The eye dressed, she covered it\nwith the bandage and the pair separated.  It was with some regret that\nKenkenes saw her turn to leave the spot.  But at that moment the\ntaskmaster rode into the open space.  She made a sign of salutation and\npaused at a word from him.  Kenkenes fancied that her face had sobered\nand he looked down on the cowled head and shoulders of the overseer,\nwrathfully wondering if the Egyptian had played the master so harshly\nthat Rachel dreaded him.  Presently the man dismounted; and though his\nback was turned toward Kenkenes, the young sculptor knew by his stature\nthat he was not the soldier who had first governed the quarries.  The\nyoung man watched him excitedly but there was no display of tyranny or\neven authority in the taskmaster's manner.  They talked, and by the\nmotion of the man's hand Kenkenes fancied that he described something\ngrowing near the Nile.  Presently they walked together toward the\noutlet of the valley.  The taskmaster leaped down the ledge and,\nturning, put up his arms and lifted Rachel down.  It was plain that\nsomething more than courtesy inspired the act, for the man's hands fell\nreluctantly.  Kenkenes faced sharply about and proceeded up the hill to\nhis statue with a queer discomfort tugging at his heart.\n\nThat night in his effort to bring forth the coveted expression in his\ndrawings of Athor, Kenkenes all but satisfied himself.\n\nThe next day, without any apparent cause, he went back to the niche in\nthe desert, stayed without purpose, and departed when no tangible\nreason urged him.  When the day declined he climbed down the front of\nthe hill and crossed the narrow field toward his boat, which was buried\nin the rank vegetation of the water's edge.  At the Nile he noted, a\nlittle distance up the river, a familiar figure among the reeds.  For a\nmoment he hesitated and then rambled through the riotous growth in that\ndirection.  As he drew near, Rachel raised herself from a search in a\nthicket of herbs, her arms full of them and her face a little flushed.\n\n\"Idler!\" said Kenkenes.\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered with a smile, \"I am at work--learned work.\"\n\n\"Gathering witch-weeds for an incantation, sorceress?\"\n\n\"Not so.  I am hunting herbs to make simples for the sick.\"\n\n\"Of a truth?  Then never before now have I craved for an illness that I\nmight select my leech.\"\n\nAgain she smiled and made a sheaf of the herbs, preparatory to binding\nit.  The bundle was unruly, and several of the plants dropped.  She\nbent to pick them up and others fell.  Kenkenes came to her rescue and\ngathered them all into his large grasp.\n\n\"Now, while I hold it,\" he suggested.\n\nWith the most gracious self-possession she smoothed out the fiber, put\nit twice, thrice about the sheaf and knotted it, her fingers, cool and\nmoist after their contact with the marsh sedge, touching the sculptor's\nmore than once.\n\n\"There!  I thank thee.\"\n\n\"Are there any sick in the camp?\"\n\n\"Only those who have been blinded by the stone-dust.  But I prepare for\nsickness during health.\"\n\n\"A wise provision.  Would we might prepare for sorrow during\ncontentment.\"\n\n\"We may lay up comfort for us against the coming of misfortune.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"In choosing friends,\" she answered.\n\nHis mind went back to the scene of that morning.  Did she speak of the\ntaskmaster?\n\n\"Thou hast found it so?\" he asked.\n\n\"Thou hast said.\"  She added no more, though the sculptor was eager for\nan example.\n\n\"How goes it with the statue?\" she asked, seeing that he did not move\nout of her path.\n\n\"Slowly,\" he answered.  \"But it shall hasten to completeness when I\nonce begin.\"\n\n\"What wilt thou do with it when it is done?  Destroy it?\"\n\nHe shook his head with a smile.\n\n\"Leave it there to betray thee to the vengeance of the priesthood one\nday?\"\n\n\"I have no fear of discovery.\"\n\n\"Nay, but fear or unfear never yet warded off misfortune,\" she said\ngravely.  \"It is better to entertain causeless concern than unwise\nconfidence.\"\n\nHe eagerly accepted this establishment of equality between them, and\novershot his mark.\n\n\"Advise me, Rachel.  What should I do?\"\n\nShe gazed at him for a moment distrustfully, wondering if he mocked her\nand asking herself if she had not deserved it in assuming comradeship\nwith him.\n\n\"Nay, it is not my place, my master,\" she said.  \"I did forget.\"\n\nHe put his hand on hers with considerable determination in his manner.\n\n\"Let us make an end to this eternal emphasis of different rank.  I\nwould forget it, Rachel.  Wilt thou not permit me?  I am thy friend and\nnothing harsher--above all things, not thy master.\"\n\nNever before had he spoken so to her.  She ventured to look at him at\nlast.  His face was grave and a little passionate and his eyes demanded\nan answer.\n\n\"Aye, I shall gladly be thy friend,\" she answered; \"but never hast thou\nbeen so much of a master as in the denial that thou art.\"  The first\ngleam of girlish mischief danced in her blue eyes.  The young sculptor\nnoted it with gladness.  He took the free hand and pressed it, and when\nshe turned toward the roadway through the wheat he turned with her and\nhand in hand they went.  As they neared it he spoke again.\n\n\"Again would I ask, when wilt thou advise me concerning the statue?\nHere is my boat.  Let us turn it into a high seat of council and I will\nsit at thy feet and learn.\"\n\n\"Nay, if I sit I shall linger too long, and there is a\ntaskmaster--albeit a gentle one--waiting with other things for me to\ndo.\"\n\nKenkenes kicked the turf and frowned.\n\n\"It sounds barbarous--this talk of master upon thy lips, Rachel.  Thou\nart out of thy place,\" he answered.\n\n\"I am no more worthy of freedom than my people,\" she replied with\ndignity.\n\n\"Thy people!  They should be lawgivers and advisers among Egypt's high\nplaces, rather than brick-makers and quarry-slaves, if thou art a\ntypical Israelite.\"\n\n\"Aye!\" she exclaimed, \"and thou hast given tongue to the same estimate\nof Israel, which hath wrought consternation among the powers of\nMizraim.  And for that reason are we enslaved.  Think of it, thou who\nart unafraid to think.  Think of a people in bondage because of its\nnumbers, its sturdiness and its wisdom.  Thou who art in rebellion\nagainst ancient law dost feel somewhat of Israel's hurt.  Behold, am I\nnot also oppressed because I may think to the upsetting of idolatry and\nthe overthrow of mine oppressors?  Thou and I are fellows in bondage;\nbut mark me!  I am nearer freedom than thou.  The Pharaohs began too\nlate.  Ye may not dam the Nile at flood-tide.\"\n\nHer face was full of triumph and her voice of prophecy.  She seemed to\ndeclare with authority the freedom of her people.  Kenkenes did not\nspeak immediately.  His thoughts were undergoing a change.  The pity he\nhad felt that night a month agone for her sanguine anticipation of\nfreedom seemed useless and wasted.  Her confidence was no longer\nfatuous.  He admitted in entirety the truth of her last words.  If all\nIsrael--nay, if but part, if but its leaders were as able and\ndetermined as she, did Meneptah guess his peril?  Was not Egypt most\nominously menaced?  He remembered that he had been amused at his\nfather's perturbation over the Israelitish unrest, but he vindicated\nMentu then and there.  Furthermore, if all Israel were like unto her,\nwhat heinous injustice had been perpetrated upon an able people?  He\nfound himself hoping that they would assert themselves and enter\nfreedom, whether it be in Canaan or in Egypt.\n\n\"If ever Israel come to her own,\" he said impulsively, \"I pray thee,\nRachel, remember me to her powers as her partizan in her darker days.\nAnd take this into account when thou comest to judge Egypt.  The half\nof the nation know not thy people, even as I have been ignorant; and\nOsiris pity the hand that would oppress them if all Egypt is made\nacquainted with them as I have been in these past days.  Art thou\nindeed typical of thy race?\"\n\n\"Hast thou not been among us often enough to discover?\" she parried\nsmilingly.\n\nHe shook his head.  \"Nay, I have known but one Israelite, and she keeps\nme perpetually aghast at Egypt.\"\n\nRachel's eyes fell.\n\n\"We did speak of the statue,\" she began.\n\n\"O, aye!  I meant to tell thee how I had fortified myself against\nmischance.  I can not break up the statue; sooner would I assail sweet\nflesh with a sledge; but when it is done I shall bury it in the sands.\nIt will wrench me sorely to do even that.  During the carving I feel\nmost secure, for Memphis and Masaarah think I come hither to look after\nthe removal of stones, since I am a sculptor.  But if an Egyptian\nshould come upon it by mischance before it is complete, I have left no\ntrace of myself upon it.  Most of all I trust to the generosity of the\nHathors, who have abetted me so openly thus far.\"\n\nRachel heard him thoughtfully.\n\n\"What a pity it is that thou must follow after the pattern of God and\nsate thy love of beauty by stealth under ban and in fear.  Till what\ntime Mizraim sets this law of sculpture aside she may not boast her\nwisdom flawless.  It is past understanding why she exacts obedience to\nthis law most diligently, which fathers these ill-favored images of her\ngods, when their habitations are most splendidly and most beautifully\nbuilt.  She robeth herself in fine linen, decketh herself with jewels,\nanointeth her hair and maketh her eyes lovely with kohl, and lo! when\nshe would picture herself she setteth her shoulders awry and slighteth\nthe grace of her joints and the softness of her flesh.  O, that thy\nbrave spirit had arisen long ago, ere the perversion had become a\nheritage, dear to the Egyptian sculptor as his bones!  But now, artist\nthough he be, his eye is so befilmed by ancient use that he sees no\nmonstrousness in his work.  So thou hast nation-wide, nation-old,\nnation-defended custom to fight.  And alas! thou art but one, Kenkenes,\nand I fear for thee.\"\n\nFor once the young sculptor's ready speech failed him.  He drew near\nher, his eyes shining, his lips parted, drinking every word as if it\nwere authoritative privilege for him to indulge his love of beauty\nwithout limit and openly.  Here was that which he had sought in vain\nfrom those nearest to him--that which he had ceased to believe was to\nbe found in Egypt--comfort, sympathy, perfect understanding.  What if\nit came from the lips of an hereditary slave of the Pharaoh--a toiler\nin the quarries, an infidel, an alien nomad?  If an alien, a slave, an\nunbeliever thought so deeply, felt so acutely and responded so\ndiscerningly to such delicate requirements--the slave, the nomad for\nhim!\n\n\"Rachel,\" he began almost helplessly, \"I am beyond extrication in debt\nto thee--thou golden, thou undecipherable mystery!\"\n\nShe flushed to her very brows and her eyes fell quickly.\n\n\"I have appealed to all sources from which I might justly expect\nsympathy--to men of reason, of power, of mine own kin, and to women of\nheart--and not once have I found in them the broad and kindly\nunderstanding which thou hast displayed for me out of the goodness of\nthy beautiful heart.  Behold! thou hast given speech to my own hidden\nlongings, summarized my difficulties, foreshadowed my misfortunes,\ndeplored them--aye, of a truth, heaved my very sighs for me!\"  His\nvoice fell and grew reverent.  \"I would call thee an immortal, but\nthere is a better title for thee--woman--a true woman--and thou dost\neven uplift the name.\"\n\nFor the first time in the history of their acquaintance she laughed,\nnot mirthfully, but low and very happily, and the fleeting glimpse she\ngave him of her eyes showed them radiant and glad.  He caught her\nhands, the bundle of herbs fell, and drawing her near him, he lifted\nthe pink palms to his lips and pressed them there.\n\n\"Nay,\" she said, recovering herself and withdrawing her hands, \"I am\nnot an Egyptian but a Hebrew, unbiased by the prejudices of thy nation.\nIt is not strange that I can understand thy rebellion, which is but a\nrift in thine Egyptian make-up through which reason shows.  Any alien\ncould comfort thee as well.\"\n\n\"And thou hast no more sympathy for me than any alien would have?\" he\nasked, somewhat piqued.\n\n\"Is there any other sympathizing alien with whom I may compare and\nlearn?\" she asked with a smile.\n\nShe took up her bundle of herbs again and seemed to be preparing to\nleave him.\n\n\"How dost thou know these things,\" he asked hurriedly; \"all these\nthings--sculpture, religion, history?\"\n\n\"I was not born a slave,\" she answered simply.\n\n\"Nay, cast out that word.  I would never hear thee speak it, Rachel.\"\n\n\"Then, I was born out of servitude.  My great grandsire was exempted by\nSeti when Israel went into bondage.  His children and all his house\nwere given to profit by the covenant.  But the name grew wealthy and\npowerful to the third generation.  My father was Maai the\nCompassionate, who loved his brethren better than himself.  Them he\nhelped.  Rameses the Great forgot his father's promise when he found he\nhad need of my father's treasure--\" she paused and continued as if the\nrecital hurt her.  \"There were ten--four of my mother's house, six of\nmy father's.  To the mines and the brick-fields they were sent, and in\na little space I was all that was left.\"\n\nHorrified and conscience-stricken, Kenkenes made as if to speak, but\nshe went on hurriedly.\n\n\"My mother's nurse, Deborah, who went with us into servitude, is\nlearned, having been taught by my mother, and I have been her pupil.\"\n\n\"And there is not one of thy blood--not one guardian kinsman left to\nthee?\" Kenkenes asked slowly.\n\n\"Not one.\"\n\nUp to this moment, during every interview with Rachel, Kenkenes had\nforsworn some little prejudice, or sacrificed some of his blithe\nself-esteem.  But the tragic narrative swept all these supports from\nhim and left him solitary to face the charge of indirect complicity in\nmurder.  He was an Egyptian--a loyal supporter of the government and\nits policies; he had profited by Israel's toil, and if he succeeded to\nhis father's office, Israel would serve him directly in his labor for\nthe Pharaoh to be.  He had known that Israel was oppressed, that Israel\ndied of hard labor, and he had pitied it, as the humane soul in him had\nfelt for the overworked draft-oxen or the sacrifices that were led\nbleating to the altars.  Perhaps he had even casually decried the\npolicy that sent women into the brick-fields and did men to death in a\nyear in the mines.  But his own conscience had not been hurt, nor had\nhe taken the misdeed home to himself.\n\nNow his sensations were vastly different.  He felt all the guilt of his\nnation, and he had nothing to offer as amends but his own humiliation.\nOf this he had an overwhelming plenitude and his eloquent face showed\nit.  With an effort he raised his head and spoke.\n\n\"Rachel, if my humiliation will satisfy thee even a little as vengeance\nupon Egypt, do thou shame me into the dust if thou wilt.\"\n\n\"I do not understand thee,\" she said with dignity.\n\n\"Believe me.  I would help thee in some wise, and alas! there is no\nother way by deed or word that I could prove my sorrow.\"\n\nTears leaped into her eyes.\n\n\"Nay!  Nay!\" she exclaimed.  \"Thou dost wrong me, Kenkenes.  What\nwickedness were mine to make the one contrite, guiltless heart in Egypt\nsuffer for all the unrepentant and the wrong-doers of the land!\"\n\nOnce again he took her hand and kissed it, because the act was more\neloquent than words at that moment.\n\n\"It is near sunset,\" she said softly, \"give me leave to depart.\"\n\n\"Farewell, and the divine Mother attend thee.\"\n\nShe bowed and left him.\n\nThat night in the dim work-room Kenkenes brought forth upon papyrus a\nface of Athor, so full of love and yearning that he knew his own heart\nhad given his fingers direction and inspiration.  He sought no further.\n\nTo-morrow in the niche in the desert he would carve the want of his own\nsoul in the countenance of the goddess.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE GODS OF EGYPT\n\nIt was Kenkenes' first love and so was most rapturous, but it did not\ncast a glamour over the stern perplexities that it entailed.  He knew\nthe suspense that is immemorial among lovers, and further to trouble\nhim he had the harsh obstacle of different society.  Rachel was a\nquarry-slave, a member of the lowest rank in the Egyptian scale of\nclasses.  She was an Israelite, an infidel and a reviler of the gods.\n\nHe was a descendant of kings, a devout Osirian and welcomed in Egypt's\nhigh places.\n\nNever could extremes have been greater.  But Kenkenes would not have\ngiven any of these obstacles a moment's consideration had not the\nweight of their neglect fallen on the shoulders of Rachel.  If he had\nbeen a sovereign he could have taken her freely, and purple-wearing\nEgypt would have kissed her sandal; but he occupied a place that could\nprovide with honor only him who was born to it.\n\nTo lift Rachel to that position would be to expose her to the affronts\nof an undemocratic society.  On the other hand he might sacrifice name\nand station and go down to her; but he was not to be judged harshly\nbecause he hesitated at this step.\n\nRachel had given him no sign of preference beyond a pretty fellowship.\nIn the beginning this realization had hurt him, but as he tossed night\nafter night, troubled beyond expression, he remembered this thing with\nsome melancholy comfort.  It was a sorry solution of his problem to\nfeel that he was unloved, and even while he recognized its efficacy, he\nprayed that it might not be so.\n\nHis heavy heart did not retard the progress of his statue or make its\nbeauty indifferent.  The more he suffered the greater the passion in\nthe face.  He labored daily and tirelessly.\n\nBut day by day he looked, unseen, on his love in the valley, and the\noftener he looked the more irresolute he grew.  The conflict between\nhis heart and his reason was gradually shifting in favor of his love.\n\nHis longing, as it continued to crave, grew from hunger to starving,\nand though his reason pointed to disastrous results, his heart\njustified itself in the blind cry, \"Rachel, Rachel!\"\n\nHe had endured a month before his fortitude succumbed entirely.  Once\nnear sunset, as Rachel was proceeding toward the camp from some helpful\nmission to the quarries, she caught the fragments of a song, so\ndistantly and absently sung that she could not locate it.  There were\nsingers among the Israelites, but they sang with wild exultation and\nmore care for the sense than the melody.  They had cultivated the chant\nand forgotten the lyric, because they had more heart for prophecy than\npassion.  Rachel had revered her people's song, but there was something\nin this half-heard music that touched her youth and her love of life.\nShe stopped to hear it well.\n\nIt had all the power and profundity of the male voice, but it was as\nsubdued, as flawless and sympathetic as a distant, deep-toned bell.\nThere was not even a breath of effort in it, nor an insincere\nexpression, and it pursued a theme of little range and much simplicity.\nThe singer sang as spontaneously as a bird sings.  She did not catch\nthe words, but something in the fervor of the music told her it was a\nsong of love--and a song of love unsatisfied.  There was a pathos in it\nthat touched the fountain of her tears and awoke to willingness that\nimpulse in her womanhood that longs to comfort.\n\nAs she stood in an attitude of rapt attention.  Kenkenes rounded a\ncurve in the valley just ahead of her.  The song died suddenly on his\nlips and the color deepened in his cheeks.\n\n\"Fie!\" he exclaimed.  \"Here thou art, O Athor, catching me in the\nimperfection of my practice.  Now will the keen edge of their perfect\nbeauty be dulled upon thine ear when I come to lift my tuneful\ndevotions to thee.\"\n\n\"And it was thou singing?\" she asked.\n\n\"It was I--and Pentaur; mine the voice; Pentaur's the song.\"\n\n\"Together ye have wrought an eloquent harmony, but such a voice as\nthine would gild the pale effort of the poorest words,\" she said\nearnestly.  \"What dost thou with thy voice?\"\n\n\"Once I won me a pretty compliment with it,\" he said softly, bending\nhis head to look at her.  She flushed and her eyes fell.\n\n\"Nay, it is but my pastime and at the command of my friends,\" he\ncontinued.  \"See.  This is what has made me sing.\"\n\nHe unslung his wallet and took out of it a statuette of creamy chalk.\n\n\"Thus far has the Athor of the hills progressed.\"  He put it into her\nhands for examination.  The face was complete, the minute features as\nperfect as life, the plaits of long hair and all the figure exquisitely\ncopied and shaped.  The pedestal was yet in rough block.  Rachel\ninspected it, wondering.  Finally she looked up at him with praise in\nher eyes.\n\n\"Dost thou forgive me?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is for me to ask thy forgiveness,\" she answered.  \"So we be equally\nindebted and therefore not in debt.\"\n\n\"Not so.  I know the joy of creating uncramped, and the joy of copying\nsuch a model far outweighs any small delight thy little vanity may have\nexperienced.  Thy vanity?  Hast thou any vanity?\"\n\n\"Nay, I trust not,\" she replied laughingly.  \"Vanity is self-esteem run\nto seed.\"\n\n\"Sage!  Let me make haste to carve the pedestal that I may know how low\nto do obeisance to wisdom.  Hold it so, I pray thee.\"\n\nHe took the statue and set it on a flat cornice jutting from the stone\nwall.  Rachel obediently steadied it.  He selected from his tools a\nknife with a rounded point of wonderful keenness and smoothed away the\nchalk in bulk.  They stood close together, the sculptor bending from\nhis commanding height to work.  From time to time he shifted his\nposition, touching her hand often and saying little.\n\nThe pedestal given shape, he began its elaboration.  Pattern after\npattern of graceful foliation emerged till the design assumed the\nintricate complexity of the Egyptic style.\n\nRachel watched with absorbed interest, her head unconsciously settling\nto one side in critical contemplation.  Kenkenes, pressing the blade\nfirmly upon the chalk, felt her cheek touch his shoulder for a fraction\nof a second; his fingers lost their steadiness and direction, but not\ntheir strength; the blade slipped, and the fierce edge struck the white\nhand that held the statuette.\n\nWith a cry he dropped the knife, flung one arm about her and drew her\nvery close to him.  The image toppled down and was broken on the rock\nbelow, but he saw only the fine scarlet thread on the soft flesh.\n\nAgain and again he pressed the wounded hand to his lips, his eyes\ndimmed with tears of compunction.\n\n\"O, Rachel, Rachel!\" he exclaimed in a sudden burst of passionate\ncontrition.  \"Must even the most loving hand in Egypt be lifted against\nthee?\"\n\nThe great content on the glorified face against his breast was all the\nexpression of pardon that he asked.\n\n\"My love!  My Rachel!\" he whispered.  \"Ah, ye generous gods! indulge me\nstill further.  Let this, your richest gift, be mine.\"\n\nThe gods!\n\nStunned and only realizing that she must undo his clasp, she freed\nherself and retreated a little space from him.\n\nAnd then she remembered.\n\nSlowly and relentlessly it came home to her that this was one of the\nabominable idolaters, and she had forsworn such for ever.  These very\narms that had held her so shelteringly had been lifted in supplication\nto the idols, and the lips, whose kiss she had awaited, would swear to\nlove her, by an image.  The pitiless truth, once admitted, smote her\ncruelly.  She covered her face with her hands.\n\nKenkenes, amazed and deeply moved, went to her immediately.\n\n\"What have I said?\" he begged.  \"What have I done?\"\n\nWhat had he done, indeed?  But to have spoken, though to explain, would\nhave meant capitulation.  She wavered a moment, and then turning away,\nfled up the valley toward the camp--not from him, but from herself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTEE ADVICE OF HOTEP\n\nIf Mentu, looking up from the old murkets, noted that the face of his\nson was weary and sad, he laid it to the sudden heat of the spring; for\nnow it was the middle of March and Ra had grown ardent and the marshes\nmalarious.  The old housekeeper, to whom the great artist mentioned his\nson's indisposition, glanced sharply at the young master, touched his\nhand when she served him at table, and felt his forehead when she\npretended to smooth his hair.  And having made her furtive examination,\nthe astute old servant told the great artist that the young master was\nnot ill.  If she had further information to impart, Mentu did not give\nher the opportunity, for had she not said that Kenkenes was well?  So\nhe fell to his work again.\n\nSenci noted it, and sorrowful Io, but they, like Mentu, ascribed it to\nthe miasmas and said nothing to the young man about himself.\n\nBut Hotep was a penetrative man, and more hidden things than his\nfriend's ailment had been an open secret to his keen eye.  He did not\ncare to know which one of the butterflies was the fluttering object of\nKenkenes' bounteous love, for Hotep knew that those high-born Memphian\nwomen, who were openly partial to the handsome young sculptor, loved\nhim for his comeliness and his silken tongue alone.  It would take a\nprofounder soul than any they had displayed to understand and\nsympathize with the restive genius hidden under the smooth exterior\nthey saw.\n\nTherefore, with some impatience, Hotep conceded that his friend was in\nlove, and presumably throwing himself away.  So the scribe purposed,\neven though the attempt were inevitably fruitless, to win Kenkenes out\nof his dream.\n\nOne faint dawn he entered the temple to pray for his own cause at the\nshrine of the lovers' goddess.\n\nIn the half-night of the vast interior, at the foot of the sumptuous\npedestal of Athor, he distinguished another supplicant, kneeling.  But\nthere was a hopelessness in the droop of the bowed head and a tenseness\nin the interlaced fingers of the clasped hands, which proved that\nAthor's answer had not been propitious.\n\nHotep knew at once who besought the goddess.  Setting his offering of\nsilver and crystal on the altar, the scribe departed with silent step.\nBut without, he ground his teeth and execrated the giver of pain to\nKenkenes.\n\nIn mid-afternoon of the same day Hotep's chariot drew up at the portals\nof Mentu's house, and the scribe in his most splendid raiment was\nconducted to Kenkenes.  The young sculptor was alone.\n\n\"What was it, a palsy or the sun which kept thee at home this day?\" was\nHotep's greeting.  \"Nine is a mystic number and is fruitful of much\ngain.  Eight times within a month have I come for thee.  The ninth did\nsupply thee.  Blessed be the number.\"\n\nKenkenes smiled.  \"But there are seven Hathors, and five days in the\nepact--and the Radiant Three.  To me it seemeth there are many good\nnumbers.\"\n\nHotep plucked his sleeve.\n\n\"Come, I will show thee the best of all--One, the One.\"\n\nKenkenes arose.  \"Let me robe myself befittingly, then.\"\n\n\"Not too effectively,\" the scribe cried after him.  \"I would not have\nthee blight my chances with the full blaze of thy beauty.\"\n\nWhen Kenkenes returned Hotep looked at him with another thought than\nhad been uppermost in his mind since he had noted his friend's\ndejection.  This time, he was impatient with Kenkenes.\n\n\"And such a man as this will permit a woman to break his heart!\"\n\nThen was the young sculptor taken to the palace of the Pharaoh.  On its\nroof, in the great square shadow of its double towers, he was presented\nto a dainty little lady, whose black eyes grew large and luminous at\nthe coming of the scribe.  She was Masanath, the youngest and only\nunwedded child of Har-hat, the king's adviser.  Her oval face had a\nuniform rose-leaf flush, her little nose was distinctly aquiline, her\nlittle mouth warm and ripe.  Her teeth were dazzlingly white, and, like\na baby's, notched on the edges with minute serrations.  But with all\nher tininess, she planted her sandal with decision and scrutinized\nwhosoever addressed her in a way that was eloquent of a force and\nperception larger by far than the lady they characterized.\n\nAnd this was the love of Hotep.  Kenkenes smiled.  The top of her\npretty head was not nearly on a level with his shoulders, and the small\nhand she extended had the determined grip with which a baby seizes a\nproffered finger.  A vision of the golden Israelite rose beside her and\nthe smile vanished.\n\nThe day was warm and the courtiers in search of a breeze were scattered\nabout the palace-top in picturesque groups.  Masanath occupied a\ndiphros, or double chair, and a female attendant, standing behind her,\nstirred the warm air with a perfumed fan.  The lady was on the point of\nsharing her seat with one of her guests, when Har-hat, who had been\nlounging by himself on the parapet, sauntered over to his daughter's\nside.\n\n\"My father,\" she said, \"the son of Mentu, the first friend of the noble\nHotep.\"\n\nKenkenes had noticed, with a chill, the approach of the fan-bearer,\nand, angry with himself for his unreasoning perturbation, strove to\ngreet him composedly.  But he could not force himself into\ngraciousness.  The formal obeisance might have been made appropriately\nto his bitterest enemy.\n\n\"The son of Mentu and I have met before,\" the fan-bearer declared\nlaughingly.  \"But I scarce should have recognized him in this man of\npeace had not his stature been impressed upon me in that hour when\nfirst I met him.\"  The fan-bearer paused to enjoy the wonder of his\ndaughter and the scribe, and the hardening face of Kenkenes.\n\n\"But for the agility the gods have seen fit to leave me in mine\nadvancing years,\" he continued, \"this self-same courteous noble would\nhave brained me with a boat-hook on an occasion of much merrymaking, a\nmonth agone.\"\n\nHe sat down on the arm of Masanath's chair and shouted with laughter.\nWith a great effort Kenkenes controlled himself.\n\n\"Shall I give the story in full?\" he asked with an odd quiet in his\nvoice.\n\n\"Nay!  Nay!\" Har-hat protested; \"I have told the worst I would have\nsaid concerning that defeat of mine.\"  Again he laughed and returned to\nthe young man's identity once more.\n\n\"Aye, I might have known that thou wast somewhat of kin to Mentu.  Ye\nare as much alike as two owlets--same candid face.\"\n\nHe sauntered away, leaving an awkward silence behind him.\n\n\"Sit beside me?\" asked Masanath, drawing the folds of her white robes\naside to make room for the scribe.  But Hotep did not seem to hear.\nInstead, he wandered away for another chair, became interested in a\ngroup of long-eyed beauties near by and apparently forgot Masanath.\nKenkenes did not permit any lapse between the invitation and its\nacceptance.  He dropped into the place made for Hotep, as if the offer\nhad been extended to him.\n\n\"From Bubastis to Memphis, from Bast to Ptah,\" he said.  \"Dost thou\nmiss the generous levels of the Delta in our crevice between the hills?\"\n\nShe shook her head.  \"Memphis is the lure of all Egypt, and he who hath\nbeen transplanted to her would flout the favor of the gods, did he make\nhomesick moan for his native city.\"\n\n\"And thou hast warmer regard for the stir of Memphis than the quiet of\nthe north?\"\n\n\"There is no quiet in the north now.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"Nay; hast thou not heard of the Israelitish unrest?\"\n\n\"Aye, I had heard--but--but hath it become of any import?\"\n\n\"It is the peril of Egypt that she does not realize her menace in these\nHebrews,\" the lady answered.  \"The north knows it, but it has sprung\ninto life so recently, and from such miserable soil, that even my\nfather, who has been away from the Delta but a few months, does not\nappreciate the magnitude of the disaffection.\"\n\n\"Thou hast lived among them, Lady Masanath.  What thinkest thou of\nthese people?\" Kenkenes asked after a little silence.\n\n\"Of the mass I can not speak confidently,\" she answered modestly.\n\"They are proud--they pass the Egyptian in pride; they have kept their\nblood singularly pure for such long residence among us; they are\nstubborn, querulous and unready.  But above all they are a contented\nrace if but the oppression were lifted from their shoulders.  They are\nan untilled soil--none knows what they might produce, but the\nconfidence of their leader, who is a wondrous man, bespeaks them a\ncapable people.  To my mind they are mistreated beyond their deserts.\nI would have the powers of Egypt use them better.\"\n\n\"Is it known in the north what Mesu's purpose is?  The Israelites among\nus talk of their own kingdom, and I wonder if the Hebrew means to set\nup a nation within us, or assail the throne of the Pharaohs, or go\nforth and settle in another country.\"\n\nThe lady shrugged her shoulders.  \"The Hebrews talk in similitudes.\nThe prospect of freedom so uplifts them that they chant their purposes\nto you, and bewilder you with quaint words and hidden meanings.  But\nthese three facts, my Lord, are apparent and most potent in results\nwhen combined; they are oppressed beyond endurance; they are many; they\nare captained by a mystic.  They have but to choose to rebel, and it\nwould tax the martial strength of Egypt to quiet them.\"\n\nThe magisterial dignity of the little lady was most delightful.  The\nyoung sculptor's sensations were divided between interest in the grave\nsubject she discussed and pleasure in her manner.  Happening to glance\nin the direction of the scribe, he found the gray eye of his friend\nfixed upon him from the group of beauties.  Presently Hotep rambled\nback with an ebony stool and sat a little aloof in thoughtful silence\nuntil the visit was over.\n\nWhen Kenkenes alighted at the door of his father's house some time\nlater, Hotep leaned over the wheel of the chariot and put his hand on\nthe sculptor's shoulder.\n\n\"Thou hast met Har-hat and, by his own words, thou hast had some\nunpleasant commerce with him.  What he did to thee I know not, but I\nshall let thee into mine own quarrel with him.  He lays the curb of\nsilence on my lips and enforces the indifference in my mien.  If I\nrevolt the penalty is humiliation and disaster for Masanath and for me.\nI love her, but I dare not let her dream it.  The fan-bearer hath\ngreater things in store for her than a scribe can promise.  I am thy\nbrother in hatred of him.\"\n\nThe next dawn, even before sunrise, Hotep found Kenkenes once again in\nthe temple before the shrine of Athor.  But this time the scribe knelt\nsilently beside his friend.\n\nWhen they emerged into the sunless solemnity of the grove he turned to\nKenkenes.\n\n\"With the licensed forwardness of an old friend, I would ask what thou\nhast to crave of the lovers' goddess, O thou loveless?\"\n\n\"Favor and pardon,\" Kenkenes answered.\n\n\"So?  But already have I reached the limit.  Not even a friend may ask\nan accounting of a man's misdeeds.\"\n\nKenkenes smiled.  \"Ask me,\" he said, \"and spare me the effort of\nvoluntary confession.\"\n\n\"Then, what hast thou done?\"\n\n\"Come and look upon mine offense.  Thine eyes will serve thee better\nthan my tongue.\"\n\nThe pair were in costume hardly fitted for the dust of the roadway, but\nMemphis was not astir.  They went across the city toward the river and\nat the landings found an early-rising boatman, who let them his bari.\n\nKenkenes took the oars and moved out into the middle of the swiftest\ncurrent of the Nile.  There he headed down-stream and permitted the\nboat to drift.\n\nThe clear heavens, blue and pellucid as a sapphire, were still cool,\nbut from the lower slope down the east a radiance began to crawl\nupward.  The peaks of the Libyan desert grew wan.\n\nThe young men did not resume their talk.  The dawn in Egypt was a\nsolemn hour.  Kenkenes raised his eyes to the heights of the west.  On\nthe shore a group approached the Nile edge, and Hotep guessed by the\ncluster of fans and standards that it was the Pharaoh at his morning\ndevotions to Nilus.  The white points on the hilltops reddened and\ncaught fire.\n\nSoftly and absently Kenkenes began to sing a hymn to the sunrise.\nHotep rested his cheek on one hand and listened.  More solemn, more\nappealing the notes grew, fuller and stronger, until the normal power\nof the rich voice was reached.  The liquid echo on the water gave it a\nmellow embellishment, and Hotep saw the central figure of the group on\nshore lift his hand for silence among the courtiers.\n\nBut Kenkenes sang on unconscious even of his nearest auditor.  After\nthe nature of humanity he was nearer to his gods in trouble than in\ntranquillity.\n\nThe white fronts of Memphis receded slowly, for neither took up the\noars.  Hotep hesitated to break the silence that fell after the end of\nthe hymn.  The shadow on the singer's face proved that the heart would\nhave flinched at any effort to soothe it.  It was the young sculptor's\nprivilege to speak first.\n\nAfter a long silence, Kenkenes roused himself.\n\n\"Look to the course of the bari, Hotep, and chide it with an oar if it\nmeans to beach us.  I doubt me much if I am fit to control it with the\nwine of this wind on my brain.\"\n\nHotep took up the oars and rowed strongly.  \"Thine offense does not sit\nheavily on thy conscience,\" he said.\n\n\"I have made my peace with Athor.\"\n\n\"Hath she given thee her word?\"\n\n\"Nay, no need.  For I did not offend her.  Rather hath she abetted\nme--urged me in my trespass.  She persuaded me to become vagrant with\nher, and I followed the divine runaway into the desert.  I doubt not I\nwas chosen because I was as lawless as her needs required.  Athor is\nbeautiful and would prove herself so to her devotees.  And to me was\nthe lovely labor appointed.\"\n\nHotep looked at him mystified.\n\n\"By the gods,\" he said at last, \"thou hadst better get in out of this\nwind.\"\n\nKenkenes laughed genuinely.  \"My babble will take meaning ere long.  If\nthou questionest me, I must answer, but I am determined not to betray\nmy secret yet.\"\n\n\"Go we to On?\" Hotep asked plaintively, after a long interval of\nindustry for him and dream for Kenkenes.  The young sculptor sat up and\nlooked at the opposite shore.  \"Nay,\" he cried, \"we are long past the\nplace where we should have landed.  Yonder is the Marsh of the\nDiscontented Soul.  Let me row back.\"\n\nHe turned and pulled rapidly toward the eastern shore.  Away to the\nsouth, behind them, were the quarries of Masaarah.  But they were still\na considerable distance above Toora, a second village of\nquarry-workers, now entirely deserted.  The pitted face of the mountain\nbehind the town was without life, for, as has been seen, Meneptah was\nnot a building monarch.  Directly opposite them the abrupt wall of the\nArabian hills pushed down near to the Nile and the intervening space\nwas a flat sandy stretch, ending in a reedy marsh at the water's edge.\nThe line of cultivation ended far to the south and north of it, though\nthe soil was as arable as any bordering the Nile.  A great number of\nmarsh geese and a few stilted waders flew up or plunged into the water\nwith discordant cries and flapping of wings as the presence of the\nyoung men disturbed the solitude.  The sedge was wind-mown, and there\nwere numberless prints of bird claws, but no mark of boat-keel or human\nfoot.  The place should have been a favorite haunt of fowlers, but it\nwas lonely and overshadowed with a sense of absolute desertion.\n\n\"But,\" Hotep began suddenly, \"thou hast spoken of offense and pardon,\nand now thou boastest that Athor abetted thee.\"\n\n\"Why is this called the Marsh of the Discontented Soul?\"\n\nThe scribe smiled patiently.  \"Of a truth, dost thou not know?\"\n\n\"As the immortals hear me, I do not.  I have never asked and the\nchronicles do not speak of it.\"\n\n\"Nay; the story is four hundred years old, and the chroniclers do not\ntell it because it is out of the scope of history, I doubt not.  But it\nhas become tradition throughout Egypt to shun the spot, though few know\nwhy they must.  A curse is laid upon the place.  An unfaithful wife\nwhom the priests denied repose with her ancestors is entombed yonder.\"\nHe pointed toward an angle between an outstanding buttress and the\nlimestone wall.  \"Her soul haunts him who comes here with the plea that\nher mummy be removed to On, where she dwelt in life, and laid with the\nrespected dead, in the necropolis.\"\n\nKenkenes shrugged his shoulders.  \"I trust the unhappy soul will not\ntrouble us.  We came here by way of misadventure--not to disturb her.\nBut how came it they did not entomb her nearer On?\"\n\n\"She betrayed one great man and tempted another.  She offended against\nthe lofty.  Therefore, her punishment was the more heavy--her isolation\nin death like to banishment in life.\"\n\n\"So; if she had slighted a paraschite and tempted a beer brewer, her\nfate would have been less harsh.  O, the justness of justice!\"\n\nThe morning was well advanced when they reached the niche on the\nhillside--Hotep, wondering; Kenkenes, silent and expectant.\n\nThe sculptor led the way into the presence of Athor, and stepped aside.\nThe scribe halted and gazed without sound or movement--petrified with\namazement.\n\nBefore him, in hue and quiescence was a statue in stone--in all other\nrespects, a human being.  The figure was of white magnesium limestone,\nand stood upon rock yet unhewn.\n\nThe ritual had been trampled into the dust.\n\nThe eye of the most unlearned Egyptian could detect the sacrilege at a\nsingle glance.\n\nIt was the image of a girl, draped in an overlong robe, fastened over\neach shoulder by a fibula, ornamented with a round medallion.  Through\nthe vestments, intentionally simple, there was testimony of the\nexquisite lines of the figure they clothed.\n\nThe sole observance of hieratic symbol were the horns of Athor set in\nthe hair.\n\nThe figure was posed as if in the act of a forward movement.  The knee\nwas slightly bent in an attitude of supplication.  The face was\nupturned, the eyes lifted, the arms extended to their fullest, forward\nand upward, the fingers curved as if ready to receive.  The hair was\nseparated into two heavy plaits, which fell below the waist down the\nback.\n\nOne sandaled foot was advanced, slightly; the other hidden by the hem\nof the robe.\n\nEvery physical feature visible upon the living form so disposed and\ndraped had been carved upon this grace in stone.  Egypt had never\nfashioned anything so perfect.  Indeed, she would not have called it\nsculpture.\n\nThe glyptic art of Greece had been paralleled hundreds of years before\nit was born.\n\nOn the face there was the light of overpowering love together with the\nintangible pride so marked on the representations of profane deities.\nBut the most manifest emotions were the great yearning and entreaty.\nThey were marked in the attitude of the head thrown back, in the\noutstretched arms and in the bent knee.  That there was more hopeful\nexpectancy than despairing insistence, was proved by the curve of the\nready fingers and the uncertain smile on the lips.  It was Athor,\neternally young, eternally in love, eternally unsatisfied, receiving\nthe setting sun as she had done since the world began.  None of the\nrapturous impatience and uncertainty of the moment had been lost since\nthe first sunset after chaos.  And yet, with all the pulse and fervor,\nhere was womanhood, immaculate and ineffable.\n\nNever did face so command men to worship.\n\n\"Holy Amen!\" the scribe exclaimed, his voice barely audible in its\nearnestness.  \"What consummate loveliness!  But what--what unspeakable\nimpiety!\"\n\n\"Hast thou seen Athor?  She is before thee.\"\n\n\"Athor!  The golden goddess in the image of a mortal!  Kenkenes, the\nwrath of the priests awaits thee and thereafter the doom of the\ninsulted Pantheon!\"  The scribe shuddered and plucked at his friend's\nrobe as if to drag him away from the sight of his own creation.\n\nFirmly fixed were the young artist's convictions to resist the\nimpelling force of Hotep's consternation.\n\n\"Nay, nay, Hotep,\" he answered soothingly.  \"The wrath of the gods for\nan offense thus flagrant is exceedingly slow, if it is to fall.  Lo!\nthey have propitiated me at great length if they mean to accomplish\nmine undoing at last.  Thus far, and the statue is well-nigh complete,\nI have met no form of obstacle.\"\n\nBut Hotep shook his head in profound apprehension.  He looked at the\nstatue furtively and murmured:\n\n\"O Kenkenes, what madness made thee trifle with the gods?\"\n\n\"Have I not said?  The goddess herself lured me.  Is she not the\nembodied essence of Beauty?  The ritual insults her.  Ah, look at the\nstatue, Hotep.  How could Athor be wroth with the sculptor who called\nsuch a face as that, a likeness of her!\"\n\n\"It startles me,\" the scribe declared.  \"It is supernaturally human.\nThat is not art, but creation.  O apostate, thine offense is of\ntwo-fold seriousness.  Thou hast stolen the function of the divine\nMother and made a living thing!\"\n\nKenkenes laughed with sheer joy at his comrade's genuine praise.  The\nmore dismayed Hotep might be, the more sincere his compliment.  But the\nscribe, plunged into a stupor of concern lest the authorities discover\nthe sacrilege, went on helplessly.\n\n\"What wilt thou do with it when it is done?\"\n\n\"I have left no mark of myself upon it.\"\n\n\"Nay, but the priesthood can scent out a blasphemer as a hound scents a\njackal.\"\n\n\"Thou wilt not betray me, Hotep; I shall not publish myself, and the\nother--the only other who possesses my secret--the Israelite, who was\nmy model, is fidelity's self.  I would trust her with my soul.\"\n\n\"An Israelite!  Thy nation's most active foe at this hour!\"\n\n\"She is no enemy to me, Hotep.\"\n\nSlowly the scribe's eyes traveled from the face of Athor to the face of\nKenkenes.  The young sculptor turned away and leaned against the great\ncube that walled one side of the niche.  He was not prepared to meet\nhis friend's discerning eyes.  Hotep surveyed him critically.  A\nmomentous surmise forced itself upon him.  He went to Kenkenes and,\nlaying an affectionate arm across his shoulder, leaned not lightly\nthereon.\n\n\"Thou hast said, O my Kenkenes, that I should understand thy meaning\nwhen thou spakest mysteriously a while agone.  May I not know, now?\nThou didst plead offense to Athor and didst boast her pardon.  Later\nthou calledst her thy confederate.  And earliest of all, thou didst\nconfess to asking favor of her.  How may all these things be?\"\n\n\"Look thou,\" Kenkenes began at once.  \"On one hand, I have my new\nbelief concerning sculpture--on the other, the beliefs of my fathers.\nI practise the first and make propitiation for the second.  No harm\nhath overtaken me.  Am I not pardoned?  Furthermore, Athor is beauty,\nand beauty guided my hand in creating this statue.  Therefore, Athor\nbeing beauty, Athor was my confederate.  Is it not lucid, O Son of\nWisdom?\"\n\nHotep laughed.  \"Nay, thou wilt not prosper, Kenkenes.  Thou servest\ntwo masters.  But there is one thing still unexplained--the favor of\nAthor.\"\n\n\"That is not mine to boast.  I have but craved it,\" Kenkenes replied\nhesitatingly.\n\n\"Where doth she live?\" Hotep asked, by way of experiment.\n\n\"In the quarries below.\"\n\nThere was no more doubt in the mind of Hotep.  Here was a duty, plain\nbefore him, and his dearest friend to counsel.  His must be tender\nwisdom and persuasive authority.  Not a drop of the scribe's blood was\ndemocratic.  He could not understand love between different ranks of\nsociety, and, as a result, doubted if it could exist.  Kenkenes must be\nawakened while it was time.\n\n\"Do thou hear me, O my Kenkenes,\" he said after some silence.  \"If I\noverstep the liberty of a friend, remind me, but remember\nthou--whatsoever I shall say will be said through love for thee, not to\nchide thee.  No man shapeth his career for himself alone, nor does\ndeath end his deeds.  He continues to act through his children and his\nchildren's children to the unlimited extent of time.  Seest thou not, O\nKenkenes, that the ancestor is terribly responsible?  What more heavy\npunishment could be meted to the original sinner, than to set him in\neternal contemplation of the hideous fruitfulness of his initial sin!\n\n\"I have said sin, because sin, only, is offense in the eyes of the\ngods.  But sin and error are one in the unpardoning eye of nature.\nThus, if thou dost err, though in all innocence, though the gods\nabsolve thee, thou wilt reap the bitter harvest of thy misguided\nsowing, one day--thou or thy children after thee.  The doom is spoken,\nand however tardy, must fall--and the offense is never expiated.  There\nis nothing more relentless than consequence.\n\n\"If thou weddest unwisely thou dost double thy children's portion of\ndifficulty, since thou art unwise and their mother unfit.  If,\nperchance, thy only error lay in thy choice of wife, the result is\nstill the same.  Let her be most worthy, and yet she may be most\nunfitting.  She must fit thy needs as the joint fits the socket.\nVirtue is essential, but it is not sufficient.  Beauty is good--I\nshould say needful, but certainly it is not all.  Love is indispensable\nand yet not enough.\"\n\n\"I should say that these three things are enough,\" put in Kenkenes.\n\n\"They would gain entrance into the place of the blest--the bosom of\nOsiris--but they are not sufficient for the over-nice nobility of\nEgypt,\" the scribe averred promptly.  \"Thou must live in the world and\nthe world would pass judgment on thy wife.  If thou art a true husband,\nthou wouldst defend her, and be wroth.  Yet, canst thou be happy being\nwroth and at odds with the world?\"\n\nKenkenes slipped from under the affectionate arm and busied himself\nwith the statue, marking with a sliver of limestone where his chisel\nmust smooth away a flaw.  But the voice of the scribe went on steadily.\n\n\"The nobility of Egypt will not accept an unbeliever and an Israelite.\nThat monarch who favored the son of Abraham, Joseph, is dead.  The\ntolerant spirit died with him.  Another sentiment hath grown up and the\nloveliest Hebrew could not overthrow it.  Henceforward, there is\neternal enmity between Egypt and Israel.\"\n\nThe sliver of stone dropped from the fingers of the artist and his eyes\nwandered away, dreamy with thought.  He remembered the story of the\nwrong of Rachel's house, and it came home to him with overwhelming\nforce that the feud between Egypt and Israel was the barrier between\nhim and his love.  He was punished for a crime his country had\ncommitted.\n\n\"Oh!\" he exclaimed to himself.  \"Am I not surely suffering for the sins\nof my fathers?  How cruelly sound thy reasoning is, O thou placid\nHotep!\"\n\nThe scribe saw that as the sculptor stood, the pleading hands of Athor\nall but touched his shoulders.  Hotep went to him and turned him away\nfrom the statue.  He knew he could not win his friend with the beauty\nof that waiting face appealing to him.\n\n\"Thus far thou hast borne with me, Kenkenes--and having grown bold\nthereby, I would go further.  Return with me to Memphis and come hither\nno more.  She will soon be comforted, if she is not already betrothed.\nEgypt needs thee--the Hathors have bespoken good fortune for thee--and\nthou art justified in aspiring to nothing less than the hand of a\nprincess.  Come back to Memphis and let her heal thee with her\ncongruous love.\"\n\n\"Nay, my Hotep, what a waste of words!  I will go back to Memphis with\nthee, not for thy reasoning, but for mine own--nay, hers.\"\n\n\"Hast thou--did the Israelite--\" the scribe began in amazement, and\npaused, ashamed of his unbecoming curiosity.\n\n\"Aye; and let us speak of it no more.  Thou hast my story, my\nconfidence and my love.  Keep the first and the rest shall be thine for\never.\"\n\n\"And this?\" questioned Hotep, nodding toward the statue, though he\nresolutely kept the face of Kenkenes turned from it.\n\n\"Let it be,\" Kenkenes replied.  Hotep hesitated, dissatisfied, but\nfeared to insist on its destruction, so he went arm in arm with his\nfriend down to the river, without a word of protest.  \"I will at him\nagain when he is better,\" he told himself, \"and we will bury the\nexquisite sacrilege.\"\n\nThere was an animated group of Hebrew children at the Nile drawing\nwater, and among them was a golden-haired maiden.  Hotep had but to\nglance at her to know that he looked on the glorious model of the pale\ndivinity on the hill above.  At the sound of their approach through the\ngrain, she looked up.  As she caught sight of Kenkenes, she started and\nflushed quickly and as quickly the color fled.\n\nSince she was near the boat, Kenkenes stood close beside her for a\nmoment while he pushed the bari into the water.\n\n\"Gods!  What a noble pair!\" Hotep ejaculated under his breath.  But he\nsaw Kenkenes bend near the Israelite, as if to make his final plea; a\nspasm of anguish contracted her white face, and she turned her head\naway.  The incident, so eloquent to Rachel and Kenkenes, had been so\nswift and subtile in its enactment, that only the quick eye of Hotep\ndetected it.  Again he called on the gods in exclamation:\n\n\"She is saner than he!\"\n\nOn the way back to Memphis he maintained a thoughtful silence.  Since\nhe had seen Rachel, he began to understand the love of Kenkenes for her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE SON OF THE MURKET\n\nMarch and April had passed and now it was the first of May.  Five days\nbefore, the ceremony of installation had been held for the murket and\nthe cup-bearer and for four days thereafter the new officers passed\nthrough initiatory formalities.  But on the fifth day the rites of\ninvestiture had been brought to an end, and Mentu and Nechutes entered\non the routine of service.\n\nTo Mentu fell the dignified congratulations of his own world of sedate\nold nobles and stately women.  But Nechutes was younger and well\nbeloved by youthful Memphis, so on the night of the fifth day, the\nhouse of Senci was aglow and in her banquet-room there was much young\nrevel in his honor.\n\nAromatic torches flaring in sconces lighted the friezes of lotus, the\npainted paneling on the walls, and the clustered pillars that upheld\nthe ceiling of the chamber.  The tables had been removed; the musicians\nand tumblers common to such occasions were not present, for the rout\nwas small and sufficient unto itself for entertainment.\n\nGathered about a central figure, which must needs be the one of highest\nrank--and in this instance it was the crown prince--were the young\nguests.  They were noblemen and gentlewomen of Memphis, freed for an\nevening from the restraint of pretentious affairs and spared the\nawesome repression of potentates and monitors.\n\nHotep was host and these were his guests.\n\nFirst, there was Rameses, languid, cynical, sumptuous, and enthroned in\na capacious fauteuil, significantly upholstered in purple and gold.\n\nClose beside him and similarly enthroned was Ta-user.  She wore a\ndouble robe of transparent linen, very fine and clinging in its\ntexture.  The over-dress was simply a white gauze, striped with narrow\nlines of green and gold.  From the fillet of royalty about her\nforehead, an emerald depended between her eyes.  Her zone was a broad\nbraid of golden cords, girdling her beneath the breast, encompassing\nher again about the hips, and fastened at last in front by a\ndiamond-shaped buckle of clustered emeralds.  Her sandals were mere\njeweled straps of white gazelle-hide, passing under the heel and ball\nof the foot.  She was as daringly dressed as a lissome dancing-girl.\n\nOn a taboret at her right was Seti, the little prince.  Although he was\nnearly sixteen he looked to be of even tenderer years.  In him, the\ncharms of the Egyptian countenance had been so emphasized, and its\ndefects so reduced, that his boyish beauty was unequaled among his\ncountrymen.\n\nAt his feet was Io, playing at dice with Ta-meri and Nechutes.  Ta-meri\nwas more than usually brilliant, and Nechutes, flushed with her favor,\nwas playing splendidly and rejoicing beyond reason over his gains.\n\nOpposite this group was another, the center of which was Masanath.  She\nsat in the richest seat in the house of Senci.  It was ivory tricked\nwith gold; but small and young as the fan-bearer's daughter was, there\nwas none in that assembly who might queen it as royally as she from its\nimperial depths.  By her side was the boon companion of Rameses.  He\nwas Menes, surnamed \"the Bland,\" captain of the royal guard, a most\namiable soldier and chiefly remarkable because, of all the prince's\nworld, he was the only one that could tell the truth to Rameses and\ntell it without offense.\n\nOn the floor between Masanath and Menes was the son of Amon-meses, the\nPrince Siptah.  He was a typical Oriental, bronze in hue, lean of\nframe, brilliant of eye, white of teeth, intense in temperament and\nfierce in his loves and hates.  Religion comforted him through his\nappetites; in his sight craft was a virtue, intrigue was politics, and\nlove was a fury.  His eyes never left Ta-user for long, and his every\nword seemed to be inspired by some overweening emotion.\n\nAside from these there were others in the group.  Some were sons and\ndaughters of royalty, cousins of the Pharaoh's sons and of Ta-user and\nSiptah; many were children of the king's ministers, and all were noble.\n\nSenci and Hotep's older sister, the Lady Bettis, a dark-eyed matron of\nthirty, presided in duenna-like guardianship over the rout.  They sat\nin a diphros apart from the young revelers.\n\nKenkenes was momently expected.  For the past two months he had been\nseen every evening wherever there was high-class revel in Memphis.  But\nhe had laughed perfunctorily and lapsed into preoccupation when none\nspoke to him, and his song had a sorry note in it, however happy the\ntheme.  But these were things apparent only to those that saw deeper\nthan the surface.\n\n\"Where is Kenkenes?\" Menes demanded.  \"Hath he forsworn us?\"\n\n\"I saw him to-day,\" Nechutes ventured, without raising his eyes from\nthe game, \"when we were fowling on the Nile below the city.  He was\nalone, pulling down-stream, just this side of Masaarah.\"\n\nHotep frowned and gave over any hope that Kenkenes would join the\nmerrymaking that night.  But at that moment, Ta-meri, who sat facing\nthe entrance to the chamber, poised the dice-box in air and drew in a\nlong breath.  The guests followed her eyes.\n\nKenkenes stood in the doorway, the curtain thrust aside and above him.\nHis voluminous festal robes were deeply edged with gold, but his arms,\nbare to the shoulder, and his strong brown neck were without their\nusual trappings of jewels.  The omission seemed intentional, as if the\nyoung man had meant to contrast the ornament of young strength and\ngrace with the glitter and magnificence of the other guests.  He had\nsucceeded well.\n\nPerhaps to most of those present, the young man's presence was not\nunusual, but Hotep was not blind to a manifest alteration in his\nmanner.  There was cynicism in the corners of his mouth, and a hint of\nhurt or temper was evident in the tension of his nostril and the\nbrilliance of his eyes.  Hotep had no need of seers and astrologers,\nfor his perception served him in all tangible things.  He knew\nsomething untoward had set Kenkenes to thinking about himself, and\nguessing where the young artist had gone that evening, he surmised\nfurther how he had been received.\n\nAnd though he was sorry in his heart for his friend's unhappiness, he\nconfessed his admiration for Rachel.\n\n\"Late,\" cried Hotep, rising.\n\n\"Thy pardon, Hotep,\" Kenkenes replied, advancing into the chamber, \"I\nhad an errand of much importance to Masaarah and it was fruitless.  It\nshall trouble me no more.\"\n\nHotep lifted his brows, as though he exclaimed to himself, and made no\nanswer.  Kenkenes greeted the guests with a wave of his hand and did\nobeisance before Rameses.\n\n\"Thou speakest of Masaarah, my Kenkenes,\" the crown prince commented\nafter the salutation, \"and it suggests an inquiry I would make of thee.\nDost thou go on as sculptor, or wilt thou follow thy father into the\nart of building?\"\n\n\"Since the Pharaoh chose for my father, he shall choose for me also.\"\n\n\"Nay, the Pharaoh did not choose,\" Rameses objected dryly.  \"It was I.\"\n\n\"Of a truth?  Then thou shalt choose for me, O my generous Prince.\"\n\n\"Follow thy father.  I would have thee for my murket.  Nay, it is ever\nso.  I mold the Pharaoh and he gets the credit.\"\n\n\"And thou, the blame, when blame accrues from the molding,\" Menes put\nin very distinctly, though under his breath.\n\n\"But be thou of cheer, O Son of the Sun,\" Kenkenes added.  \"When thou\nart Pharaoh, thou canst retaliate upon thine own heir, in the same\nfashion.\"\n\n\"Thou givest him tardy comfort, O Son of Mentu,\" Siptah commented with\nan unpleasant laugh.  \"He will lose all recollection of the grudge,\nwaiting so long.\"\n\nRameses turned his heavy eyes toward the speaker, but Kenkenes halted\nany remark the prince might have made.\n\n\"Nay, let it pass,\" he said placidly, dropping into a chair.  \"All this\nsavors too much of the future and is out of place in the happy\nimprovidence of the present.\"\n\n\"Let it all pass?\" Ta-user asked.  \"Nay, I would hold the prince to the\npromise he made a moment agone, when the choosing of the new murket\ncomes round again.\"\n\n\"Do thou so, for me, then, when that time comes,\" Kenkenes interrupted.\n\nTa-user laughed very softly and delivered the young artist a level look\nof understanding from her topaz eyes.  \"I fear thou art indeed\nimprovident,\" she continued, \"if thou leavest thy future to others.\"\n\n\"Then all the world is improvident, since it belongeth to others to\nshape every man's future.  But Hotep, the lawgiver, denies this thing.\nHe holds that every man builds for himself.\"\n\n\"Right, Hotep!\" Rameses exclaimed.  \"It was such belief that made a\nworld-conqueror of my grandsire.\"\n\n\"Nay, thy pardon, O my Prince.  Hotep's counsel will not always hold,\"\nKenkenes objected.\n\n\"Give me to know wherein it faileth,\" the prince demanded.\n\n\"Alas! in a thousand things.  In truth a man even draws his breath by\nthe leave of others.\"\n\n\"By the puny god, Harpocrates!\" the prince cried, scoffing.  \"That is\nthe weakest avowal I have heard in a moon!\"\n\nKenkenes flushed, and Rameses, recovering from his amusement, pressed\nhis advantage.\n\n\"Let me give thee a bit of counsel from mine own store that thou mayest\nlook with braver eyes on life.  Take the world by the throat and it\nwill do thy will.\"\n\n\"Again I dispute thee, O Rameses.\"\n\n\"Name thy witness,\" the prince insisted.  Kenkenes leaned on his elbow\ntoward him.\n\n\"Canst thou force a woman to love thee?\" he asked simply.\n\nTa-user glanced at the prince and the sleepy black eyes of the heir\nnarrowed.\n\n\"Let us get back to the issue,\" he said.  \"We spoke of others shaping\nthe future of men.  You may not force a woman to love you, but no love\nor lack of love of a woman should misshape the destiny of any man.\"\n\n\"That is a matter of difference in temperament, my Prince,\" Ta-user put\nin.\n\n\"It may be, but it is the expression of mine own ideas,\" he answered\nroughly.\n\nThe lashes of the princess were smitten down immediately and Siptah's\ncanine teeth glittered for a moment, one set upon the other.  Kenkenes\npatted his sandal impatiently and looked another way.  His gaze fell on\nIo.  She had lost interest in the game.  The color had receded from her\ncheeks and now and again her lips trembled.  Kenkenes looked and saw\nthat Seti's eyes were adoring Ta-user, who smiled at him.  With a\nsudden rush of heat through his veins, the young artist turned again to\nIo, and watched till he caught her eye.  With a look he invited her to\ncome to him.  She laid down the dice, during the momentary abstraction\nof her playing-mates, and murmuring that she was tired, came and sat at\nthe feet of her champion.\n\n\"Wherefore dost thou retreat, Io?\" Ta-user asked.  \"Art vanquished?\"\n\n\"At one game, aye!\" the girl replied vehemently.\n\nKenkenes laid his hand on her head and said to her very softly:\n\n\"If only our pride were spared, sweet Io, defeat were not so hard.\"\n\nThe girl lifted her face to him with some questioning in her eyes.\n\n\"Knowest thou aught of this game, in truth?\" she asked.\n\nHe smiled and evaded.  \"I have not been fairly taught.\"\n\nTa-meri gathered up the stakes and Nechutes, collecting the dice, went\nto find her a seat.  But while he was gone, she wandered over to\nKenkenes and leaned on the back of his chair.\n\n\"Let me give thee a truth that seemeth to deny itself in the\nexpression,\" Io said, turning so that she faced the young artist.\n\n\"Say on,\" he replied, bending over her.\n\n\"The more indifferent the teacher in this game of love, the sooner you\nlearn,\" said Io.  Kenkenes took the tiny hand extended toward him in\nemphasis and kissed it.\n\n\"Sorry truth!\" he said tenderly.  As he leaned back in his chair he\nbecame conscious of Ta-meri's presence and turned his head toward her.\nHer face was so near to him that he felt the glow from her warm cheek.\nHis gaze met hers and, for a moment, dwelt.\n\nAll the attraction of her gorgeous habiliments, her warm assurance and\nher inceptive tenderness detached themselves from the general fusion\nand became distinct.  Her beauty, her fervor, her audacity, were not\nunusually pronounced on this occasion, but the spell for Kenkenes was\nbroken and the inner working's were open to him.  Different indeed was\nthe picture that rose before his mind--a picture of a fair face,\nwondrously and spiritually beautiful; of the quick blush and sweet\ndignity and unapproachable womanhood.  His eyes fell and for a moment\nhis lids were unsteady, but the color surged back into his cheeks and\nhis lips tightened.\n\nHe took Io's hands, which were clasped across his knee, and rising,\ngave the chair to Ta-meri.  He found a taboret for himself, and as he\nput it down at her feet, he saw Nechutes fling himself into a chair and\nscowl blackly at the nomarch's daughter.  Kenkenes sighed and\ninterested himself in the babble that went on about him.\n\nThe first word he distinguished was the name of Har-hat, pronounced in\nclear tones.  Menes, who sat next to Kenkenes, put out his foot and\ntrod on the speaker's toes.  The man was Siptah.\n\n\"Choke before thou utterest that name again,\" the captain said in a\nwhisper, \"else thou wilt have Rameses abusing Har-hat before his\ndaughter.\"\n\n\"What matters it to me, his temper or her hurt?\" Siptah snarled.\n\n\"Churl!\" responded Menes, amiably.\n\n\"What is amiss between the heir and the fan-bearer?\" Kenkenes asked.\n\n\"Everything!  Rameses fairly suffocates in the presence of the new\nadviser.  The Pharaoh is sadly torn between the twain.  He worships\nRameses and, body of Osiris! how he loves Har-hat!  But sometime the\ncouncil chamber with the trio therein will fall--the walls outward, the\nroof, up--mark me!\"\n\nAgain, clear and with offensive emphasis, Siptah's voice was heard\ndisputing, in the general babble.\n\n\"Magnify the cowardice of the Rebu if you will, but it was Har-hat who\nmade them afraid,\" he was saying.\n\nThe slow eyes of Rameses turned in the direction of the tacit\nchallenge.  Menes' black brows knitted at Siptah, but Kenkenes came to\nthe rescue.  A lyre, the inevitable instrument of ancient revels, was\nnear him and he caught it up, sweeping his fingers strongly across the\nstrings.\n\nA momentary silence fell, broken at once by the applause of the\npeace-loving, who cried, \"Sing for us, Kenkenes!\"\n\nHe shook his head, smiling.  \"I did but test the harmony of the\nstrings; harmony is grateful to mine ear.\"\n\nMenes' lips twitched.  \"If harmony is here,\" he said with meaning, \"you\nwill find it in the instrument.\"\n\nAgain, a voice from the general conversation broke in--this time from\nRameses.\n\n\"Kenkenes hath outlasted an army of other singers.  I knew him as such\nwhen mine uncles yet lived and my father was many moves from the\nthrone.  It was while we dwelt unroyally here in Memphis.  They made\nthee sing in the temple, Kenkenes.  Dost thou remember?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Ta-user took it up.  \"They made thee sing in the temple and it\nwent sore against thee, Kenkenes.  Most of the upper classes in the\ncollege here were hoarse or treble by turns, and the priests required\nthee by force from thy tutors because thou couldst sing.  Thou wast a\nstubborn lad, as pretty as a mimosa and as surly as a caged lion.  I\ncan see thee now chanting, with a voice like a lark, and frowning like\na very demon from Amenti!\"\n\nThe princess laughed musically at her own narration and received the\napplause of the others with a serene countenance.  She had repaid\nKenkenes for his implied championship of her cause earlier in the\nevening.\n\n\"Art still as reluctant, Kenkenes?\" the Lady Senci called to him.\n\nKenkenes looked at the lyre and did not answer at once.  There was no\nsong in his heart and a moody silence seemed more like to possess his\nlips.  His audience, too, was not in the temper for song.  He took in\nthe expression of the guests with a single comprehensive glance.\nSiptah's hands were clenched and his face was blackened with a frown.\nTa-user's silken brows were lifted, and even the pallid countenance of\nthe prince was set and his eyes were fixed on nothing.  Seti was\nentangled by the princess' witchery and he saw no one else.  Io,\nblanched and miserable, forgotten by Seti, forgot all others.  In his\nheart Kenkenes knew that Nechutes was unhappy and Hotep and Masanath;\nand even if there were those in the banquet-room who had no overweening\nsorrow, the evident discontent of the troubled oppressed them.\n\nFar from finding inspiration for song in the faces of the guests,\nKenkenes felt an impulse to rush out of the atmosphere of unrest and\nunhappiness into the solitary night, where no intrusion of another's\nsorrow could dispute the great triumph of his own grief.  The bitter\nsoul in him longed to laugh at the idea of singing.\n\nThe hesitation between Senci's invitation and his answer was not\nnoticeable.  He put the instrument out of his reach, tossing it on a\ncushion a little distance away.\n\n\"Not so reluctant,\" he said, turning his face toward the lady, \"as\nunready.  I have exhausted my trove of songs for this self-same\ncompany,--wherefore they will not listen to reiteration, which is ever\ninsipid.\"\n\nSenci wisely accepted his excuse, and pressed him no further.  One or\ntwo of the more observant members of the company looked at him, with\ncomprehension in their eyes.  Seldom, indeed, had Kenkenes refused to\nsing, and his reluctance corroborated their suspicions that all was not\nwell with the young artist.\n\nThe irrepressible Menes observed to Io in one of his characteristic\nundertones, but so that all the company heard it: \"What makes us surly\nto-night?  Look at Kenkenes; I think he is in love!  What aileth thee,\nsweet Io?  Hast lost much to that gambling pair--Ta-meri and Nechutes?\nAnd behold thy fellows!  What a sulky lot!  I am the most cheerful\nspirit among us.\"\n\n\"Boast not,\" she responded; \"it is not a virtue in you.  You would be\nblithe in Amenti, for one can not get mournful music out of a timbrel.\"\n\nThe soldier's eyes opened, and he caught at her, but she eluded him and\ngrowled prettily under her breath.\n\n\"Come, Bast,\" he cried, making after her.  \"Kit, kit, kit!\"\n\nShe sprang away with a little shriek and Kenkenes, throwing out his\narm, caught her and drew her close.\n\n\"Menes is malevolent--\" he began.\n\n\"Aye, malevolent as Mesu!\" she panted.\n\n\"What!\" the soldier cried.  \"Has the Hebrew sorcerer already become a\nbugbear to the children?\"\n\n\"If he become not a bugbear to all Egypt, we may thank the gods,\"\nSiptah put in.\n\nRameses laughed scornfully, but Ta-user and Seti spoke simultaneously:\n\n\"Siptah speaks truly.\"\n\n\"Yea, Menes,\" the heir scoffed; \"he hath already become a bugbear to\nthe infants.  Hear them confess it?\"\n\nSiptah buried his clenched hand in a cushion on the floor near him.\n\n\"O thou paternal Prince,\" he said, \"repeat us a prayer of exorcism as a\nfather should, and rid us of our fears.\"\n\n\"And pursuant of the custom bewailed an hour agone, we shall return\nthanks to the Pharaoh, for the things thou dost achieve, O our\nRameses,\" Menes added.\n\n\"If there are any prayers said,\" the prince replied, \"the Hebrews will\nsay them.  Mine exorcism will be harsher than formulas.\"\n\nThe rest of the company ceased their undertone and listened.\n\n\"Wilt thou tell us again what thou hast said, O Prince?\" Kenkenes asked.\n\n\"Mine exorcism of the Hebrew sorcerer, Mesu, will be harsher than\nformulas.  I shall not beseech the Israelites and it will avail them\nnaught to beseech me.\"\n\n\"Thou art ominous, Light of Egypt,\" Kenkenes commented quietly.  \"Wilt\nthou open thy heart further and give us thy meaning?\"\n\n\"Hast lived out of the world, O Son of Mentu?  The exorcism will begin\nere long.  In this I give thee the history of Israel for the next few\nyears and close it.  I shall not fall heir to the Hebrews when I come\nto wear the crown of Egypt.\"\n\n\"Are they to be sent forth?\" Kenkenes asked in a low tone.\n\nRameses laughed shortly.\n\n\"Thou art not versed in the innuendoes of court-talk, my Kenkenes.\nNay, they die in Egypt and fertilize the soil.\"\n\n\"It will raise a Set-given uproar, Rameses,\" Menes broke in with meek\nconviction; \"and as thou hast said--to the king, the credit--to his\nadvisers, the blame.\"\n\n\"Nay; the process is longer and more natural,\" the prince replied\ncarelessly.  \"It is but the same method of the mines.  Who can call\ndeath by hard labor, murder?\"\n\nThe full brutality of the prince's meaning struck home.  Kenkenes\ngripped the arm of Ta-meri's chair with such power that the sinews\nstood up rigid and white above the back of the brown hand.  Luckily,\nall of the guests were contemplating Rameses with more or less horror.\nThey did not see the color recede from the young artist's face or his\neyes ignite dangerously.\n\nMasanath sat up very straight and leveled a pair of eyes shining with\naccusation at the prince.\n\n\"Of a truth, was thine the fiat?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Even so, thou lovely magistrate,\" he answered with an amused smile.\n\"Was it not a masterful one?\"\n\nHotep delivered her a warning glance, but she did not heed it.  Austere\nMa, the Defender of Truth, could have been as easily crushed.\n\n\"Masterful!\" she cried.  \"Nay!  Menes, lend me thy word.  Of all\nSet-given, pitiless, atrocious edicts, that is the cruelest!  Shame on\nthee!\"\n\nAt her first words, Rameses raised himself from his attitude of languor\ninto an upright and intensely alert position.  The company ceased to\nbreathe, but Kenkenes heaved a soundless sigh of relief.  Masanath had\nuttered his denunciations for him.\n\nMeanwhile the prince's eyes began to sparkle, a rich stain grew in his\ncheeks and when she made an end he was the picture of animated delight.\nFor the first time in his life he had been defied and condemned.\n\nBut his gaze did not disturb Masanath.  Her eyes dared him to resent\nher censure.  The prince had no such purpose in mind.\n\n\"O by Besa! here is what I have sought for so long,\" he exclaimed, at\nlast.  \"Hither! thou treasure, thou dear, defiant little shrew!  Thou\nart more to me than all the wealth of Pithom.  Hither, I tell thee!\"\n\nBut she did not move.  The company was breathing with considerable\nrelief by this time, but not a few of them were casting furtive glances\nat Ta-user.\n\n\"Hither!\" Rameses commanded, stamping his foot.  \"Nay, I had forgot she\ndefies my power.  Behold, then, I come to thee.\"\n\nMasanath anticipated his intent, and rising with much dignity, she put\nthe ivory throne between her and the prince.  Cool and self-possessed\nshe gathered up her lotuses, as fresh after an evening in her hand as\nthey were when the slaves gathered them from the Nile; found her fan\nand made other serene preparations to depart.  Rameses, fended from her\nby the chair, stood before her and watched with a smile in his eyes.\n\nPresently he waved his hand to the other guests.\n\n\"Arise; the princess is going,\" he commanded.\n\nIn the stir and rustle, laughter and talk of the guests, getting up at\nthe prince's sign--for it was customary to permit the highest of rank\nto dismiss a company--Masanath slipped from among them and attempted to\nleave unnoticed.  But Rameses was before her and had taken possession\nof her hand before she could elude him.  As Kenkenes passed them on his\nway to the door her soft shoulders were squared; she had drawn herself\nas far away from the prince as she might and was otherwise evincing her\ndiscomfort extravagantly.\n\nBefore them was Hotep, outwardly undisturbed, smiling and complacent.\nAt one side was Ta-user, at the other Seti, and Io hung on Hotep's arm.\n\nThe young artist walked past them hurriedly, moved to leave all the\nferment and agitation behind him.  If he had thought to forget his\nsorrows among the light-hearted revel of those that did not sorrow, he\nmisdirected his search.\n\nAt the doors the Lady Senci met him and drew him over to the diphros,\nnow vacated by Bettis.\n\nAnd there she took his face between her hands and kissed him.\n\n\"Hail! thou son of the murket!\" she said.\n\n\"Having much, I am given more,\" he responded.  \"Behold the prodigality\nof good fortune.  The Hathors exalt me in the world and add thereto a\nkiss from the Lady Senci.\"\n\n\"I was impelled truly,\" she confessed, \"but by thine own face as well\nas by the Hathors.  Kenkenes, if I did not know thee, I should say thou\nwast pretending--thou, to whom pretense is impossible.\"\n\nHe did not answer, for there was no desire in his heart to tell his\nsecret; his experience with Hotep had warned him.  Yet the unusual\nwinsomeness of his father's noble love was hard to resist.\n\n\"Thy manner this evening betrays thee as striving to hide one spirit\nand show another,\" she continued, seeing he made no response.\n\n\"Thou hast said,\" he admitted at last; \"and I have not succeeded.  That\nis a sorry incapacity, for the world has small patience with a man who\ncan not make his face lie.\"\n\n\"Bitter!  Thou!\" she chid.\n\n\"Have I not spoken truly?\" he persisted.\n\n\"Aye, but why rebel?  No man but hides a secret sorrow, and this would\nbe a tearful world did every one weep when he felt like it.\"\n\n\"But I am most overwhelmingly constrained to weep, so I shall stay out\nof the world and vex it not.\"\n\nShe looked at him with startled eyes.\n\n\"Art thou so troubled, then?\" she asked in a lowered tone.\n\n\"Doubly troubled--and hopelessly,\" he replied, his eyes away from her.\n\nShe came nearer and, putting up her hands, laid them on his shoulders.\n\n\"You are so young, Kenkenes---so young, and youth is like to make much\nof the little first sorrows.  Furthermore, these are troublous days.\nSaw you not the temper of the assembly to-night?  Egypt is a-quiver\nwith irritation.  Every little ripple in the smooth current of life\nseems magnified--each man seeketh provocation to vent his causeless\nexasperation.  And when such ferment worketh in the gathering of the\nyoung, it is portentous.  It bodeth evil!  You are but caught in the\nfever, my Kenkenes, and your little vexations are inflamed until they\nhurt, of a truth.  Get to your rest, and to-morrow her smile will be\nmore propitious.\"\n\nKenkenes looked at the uplifted face and noted the laugh in the eyes.\n\n\"What a tattling face is mine,\" he said, \"Is her name written there\nalso?\"  He drew his fingers across his forehead.\n\n\"No need; I have been young and many are the young that have wooed and\nwed beneath mine eyes.  I know the signs.\"  She nodded sagely and\ncontinued after a little pause:\n\n\"I shall not pry further into your sorrow, Kenkenes; but you are good\nand handsome, and winsome, and wealthy, and young, and it is a stony\nheart that could hold out long against you.  I would wager my mummy\nthat the maiden is this instant well-nigh ready to cast herself at your\nfeet, save that your very excellence deters her.  Go, now, and let your\ndreams be sweeter than these last waking hours have been.\"\n\nAgain she kissed him and let him go.\n\nIn the corridor without, he received his mantle and kerchief from a\nservant and continued toward the outer portals.  But before he reached\nthem, Ta-meri stepped out of a cross-corridor and halted.  Never before\ndid her eyes so shine or her smile so flash within the cloud of gauzes\nthat mantled and covered her.  Kenkenes wondered for a moment if he\nmust explain the change in his countenance to her also.  But the beauty\nhad herself in mind at that moment.\n\n\"Kenkenes, thou hast given me no opportunity to wish thee well, as the\nson of the murket.\"\n\n\"Ah, but in this nook thy good wishes will be none the less sincere nor\nmy delight any less apparent.\"\n\n\"Most heartily I give thee joy!\"\n\nKenkenes kissed her hand.  \"And wilt thou say that to Nechutes and put\nhim in the highest heaven?\"\n\n\"Already have I wished him well,\" she responded, pretending to pout,\n\"but he repaid me poorly.\"\n\n\"Nay!  What did he?\"\n\n\"Begged me to become his wife.\"\n\n\"And having given him the span, thou didst yield him the cubit also\nwhen he asked it?\" he surmised.\n\n\"Nay, not yet.  But--shall I?\" she lifted her face and looked at him,\nsmiling and bewitchingly beautiful.  Her eyes dared him; her lips\ninvited him; all her charms rose up and besought him.  For a moment,\nKenkenes was startled.   If he had believed that Ta-meri loved him\nnever so slightly, his sensations would have been most distressing.\nBut he knew and was glad to know that he awakened nothing deeper than a\nsuperficial partiality, which lasted only as long as he was in her\nsight to please her eye.  In spite of his consternation, he could think\nintelligently enough to surmise what had inspired her words.  The Lady\nSenci had guessed the nature of his trouble; even Menes had hinted a\nsuspicion of the truth in a bantering way.  What would prevent the\nbeauty from seeing it also and preempting to herself the honors of his\ndisheartenment?  But he was in no mood for a coquettish tilt with her.\nHis sober face was not more serious than his tone when he made answer:\n\n\"Do not play with him, Ta-meri.  He is worthy and loves thee most\ntenderly.  Thou lovest him.  Be kind to thine own heart and put him to\nthe rack no more.  Thou art sure of him and I doubt not it pleases thee\nto tantalize thyself a little while; but Nechutes, who must endure the\nlover's doubts, is suffering cruelly.  Thou art a good child, Ta-meri;\nhow canst thou hurt him so?\"\n\nHe paused, for her eyes, growing remorseful, had wandered away from\nhim.  He knew he had reasoned well.  The guests in the banquet-room\nbegan to emerge, talking and laughing.  The voice of Nechutes was not\nheard among them.  Kenkenes glanced toward the group and saw the\ncup-bearer a trifle in advance, his sullen face averted.\n\n\"He comes yonder,\" Kenkenes added in a whisper, \"poor, moody boy!  Go\nback to him and take him all the happiness I would to the gods I knew.\nFarewell.\"\n\nHe pressed her hand and continued toward the door.\n\nOnce again he was hailed, this time by Rameses.  He halted, stifling a\ngroan, and returned to the prince.  Nechutes and Ta-meri had\ndisappeared.\n\n\"One other thing, I would tell thee, Kenkenes,\" the prince said, \"and\nthen thou mayest go.  The Pharaoh heard a song to the sunrise on the\nNile some time ago and I identified the voice for him.  He would have\nthee sing for him, Kenkenes.\"\n\n\"The Pharaoh's wish is law,\" was the slow answer.\n\n\"Oh, it was not a command,\" Rameses replied affably, for he was still\nholding Masanath's hand and therefore in high good humor with himself.\n\"In truth he said the choice should be thine whether thou wilt or not.\nHe would not insist that a nobleman become his minstrel.  But more of\nthis later; the gods go with thee.\"\n\nKenkenes bowed and escaped.\n\nIn his room a few moments later, he lighted his lamp of scented oils\nand contemplated the comforts about him.  His conscience pointed a\ncondemning finger at him.  Here was luxury to the point of uselessness\nfor himself; across the Nile was the desolate quarry-camp for his love.\nIn Memphis he had robed himself in fine linen and reveled, had eaten\nwith princes and slept sumptuously--in his strength and his manhood and\nunearned idleness.  And she, but a tender girl, had toiled for the\nquarry-workers and fasted and now faced death in the hideous\nextermination purposed for her race.\n\nHe ground his teeth and prayed for the dawn.\n\nHe forgot that he had come away from the Arabian hills because she\nrepelled him; he remembered his scruples concerning their social\ninequality, only to revile himself; Hotep's caution was more than ever\na waste of words to him.  He forgot everything except that he was here\nin comfort, she, there in want and in peril, and he had not rescued her.\n\nHe did not sleep.  He tossed and counted the hours.\n\n\"Sing for the Pharaoh!\" he exclaimed, \"aye, I will sing till the throat\nof me cracks--not for the reward of his good will alone, but for\nRachel's liberty.  That first, and the unraveling of this puzzle\nthereafter.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nAT MASAARAH\n\nSince the day Kenkenes had wounded her hand with the knife, Rachel had\nseen him but twice in many weeks.\n\nOne mid-morning, the oxen were unyoked from the water-cart and led\nambling up to the pit where a monolith, too huge to be moved by men\nalone, had been taken forth and was to be transferred to the Nile.  The\nbearers carried water directly from the river during this time, and it\nwas given Rachel to govern them in the departure from the routine.\n\nSuddenly she became aware that some one approached through the grain,\nand when she raised her head, she looked up into the face of Kenkenes.\nIt was Kenkenes, indeed, but Kenkenes in robes of rustling linen and\ntrappings of gold.  Never had she seen so stately an Egyptian, nor any\nso entitled to the name of nobleman.  In quick succession she\nexperienced the moving sensations of surprise, pride in him, and\ndepression.  The last fell on her with the instant recollection of\nduty, when his face bent appealingly over hers.  Trembling, she turned\naway from him, and when she looked again, he was returning to Memphis.\n\nNow, her days had ceased to be the dreamy lapses of time in which she\nlived and walked.  The glamour that had made the quarries sufferable\nhad passed; all the realization of her enslavement, with the\naccompanying shame, came to her, and her hope for Israel was lost in\nthe destruction of her personal happiness.\n\nStill, the longing to look on Kenkenes once again made the dawns more\nwelcome, the days longer and the sunsets more disheartening.  Vainly\nshe summoned pride to her aid; vainly she exhorted herself to\nconsistency.\n\n\"How long,\" she would say, \"since thou didst reject the good Atsu\nbecause he is an idolater and an Egyptian?  How long since thou wast\nfull of wrath against the chosen people who wedded Egyptians and became\nof them?  And now, who is it that is full of sighs and strange conduct?\nWho is it that hath forgotten the idols and the abominations and the\nbondage of her people and mourneth after one of the oppressors?  And\nhow will it be with thee when the chosen people go forth, or the\ncarving is complete and the Egyptian cometh no more; or how will it be\nwhen he taketh one of the long-eyed maidens of his kind to wife?\"\n\nIn the face of all this, her intuition rose up and bore witness that\nthe Egyptian loved her, and was no less unhappy than she.\n\nSo time came and went and weeks passed and he came not again.  Late,\none sunset, while there yet was daylight, she left the camp merely that\nshe might wander down the valley to the same spot where, at the same\nhour, she had met Kenkenes on that last occasion of talk between them.\n\nMoving slowly down the shadows, she saw a figure approaching.  The\nstature of the new-comer identified him.  The head was up, the step\nslow, the bearing expectant.  In the one scant lapse between two throbs\nof her heart, Rachel knew her lover, remembered all the power of his\nattraction, and realized that her joy and love could carry her beyond\nher fortitude and resolution.\n\nJust ahead of her, not farther than three paces, a long fragment of\nrock had fallen from above and leaned against the wall.  There was an\nample space formed by its slant against the cliff and almost before she\nknew it, she had crept into this crevice.  Cowering in the dusk, she\nclutched at her loud-beating heart and listened intently.\n\nThere was no sound of his steps on the rough roadway of the valley and\nthough she watched eagerly from her hiding-place, she did not see him\npass.  After a long time she emerged.  He was gone.\n\nWhen she looked in the dust she found that his footprints turned not\nfar from her hiding-place and led toward the Nile.\n\nShe knew then that he had seen her when she had caught sight of him,\nand failing to meet her as he had expected, had guessed she had hidden\nfrom him.\n\nThis was the sunset of the night of the revel at Senci's house.  It was\nthis incident that had made Kenkenes late at the festivities, and\ncynical when he came.\n\nOn her way back to the camp Rachel met Atsu, mounted and attended by a\nscribe, the taskmaster's secretary.  The two officials were on their\nway to Memphis to worship in the great temple and to spend a night\namong free-born men.  Once every month, no oftener, did Atsu return to\nhis own rank in the city.  Recognizing Rachel, he drew up his horse;\nthe scribe rode on.\n\n\"Hast been in search of the Nile wind, Rachel?  The valley holds the\nday-heat like an oven,\" he said.\n\n\"Nay, I did not go so far.  The darkness came too quickly.\"\n\n\"Endure it a while.  I shall move the people into the large valley\nwhere they may have the north breeze and the water-smell after sunset,\nnow that the summer is near.  I am glad I met thee.  Deborah tells me\nthe water for the camp-cooking is turbid, and I doubt not the children\ndraw it from some point below the wharf where the drawing for the\nquarry-supply stirs up the ooze.  Do thou go with the children in the\nmorning when they are sent for the camp supply, and get it above the\nwharf.\"\n\n\"I hear,\" she answered.\n\n\"The gods attend thee,\" he said, riding away.\n\n\"Be thy visit pleasant,\" she responded, and turned again up the valley.\n\nThe taskmaster was forgotten at her second step, and her contrition and\nhumiliation came back with a rush.  There was little sleep for her that\nnight, so heavy was her heart.\n\nThe next morning Rachel obeyed Atsu and followed the children to the\nNile.  Crossing the field, absorbed in her trouble, she did not hear\nthe beat of hoofs or the grind of wheels until she was face to face\nwith the attendants of a company of charioteers.  The troop of\nwater-carriers had scattered out of the road-way and each little\nbronzed Israelite was bending with his right hand upon his left knee in\ntoken of profound respect.  Rachel hastily joined them.\n\nWhen she looked again the retinue of servants had passed.  After them\ncame a gilded chariot with a sumptuous Egyptian within.  By the\nannulets over his temples and the fringed ribbons pendent therefrom,\nthe Israelite knew him to be royal.\n\nBehind, a second chariot was driven by a single occupant, who wore the\nbadges of princehood also.\n\nThe third was a chariot of ebony drawn by two prancing coal-black\nhorses whose leathers and housings shone and jingled.  Rachel's eyes\nmet those of the driver and the life-current froze in her veins.\nHar-hat, fan-bearer to the Pharaoh, late governor of Bubastis, drew up\nhis horses and calmly surveyed her.  The action halted the chariots of\na dozen courtiers following him.  One by one they came to a stand-still\nand each man peered around his predecessor until the fan-bearer became\nconscious of the pawing horses behind him.  He drove out of line and\nalighted.  With an apologetic wave of his hand, he motioned the\nprocession to proceed and busied himself with the harness as if he had\nfound a breakage.  Those that had passed were by this time some\ndistance ahead and, missing the grind of wheels in their wake, looked\nback.  The fan-bearer beckoned to one of the attendants who had gone\nbefore, and the man returned.\n\nMeanwhile the procession moved on and the nobles glanced first at the\nfan-bearer, and next, at the Israelite.  But Athor in the niche on the\nhillside was not more white and stony than its living model in the\nvalley.  There was no retreat.  The fan-bearer stood between her and\nthe Nile, his servant between her and the quarries.  She felt the\nsickening numbness that stupefies one who realizes a terrible strait,\nfrom which there is neither succor nor escape.\n\nThe procession passed and the servant, halting, bowed to his master.\nHe was short and fat, thick of neck and long of arm--a most unusual\nEgyptian.  Har-hat tossed him the reins and, walking around his horses,\napproached Rachel.  The smallest Hebrew--too small to be awed and yet\nold enough to realize that the beloved Rachel was in danger, dropped\nthe hide he bore, and flinging himself before her, clasped her with his\narms, and turned a defiant face at Har-hat over his shoulder.  The\nfan-bearer paused.\n\n\"It is the very same,\" he said laughingly.  \"The hard life of the\nquarries hath not robbed thee in the least of thy radiance.  But by the\ngambling god, Toth, thou didst take a risk!  Dost dream what thou didst\nmiss through a malevolent caprice of the Hathors?  Five months ago I\nwould have taken thee out of bondage into luxury but for an industrious\ntaskmaster and the unfortunate interference of a royal message.  But\nthe Seven Sisters repent, and I find thee again.\"\n\nRachel had fixed her eyes upon the white walls of Memphis shining in\nthe morning sun, and did not seem to hear him.\n\n\"Nay, now, slight me not!  It was the fault of the taskmaster and not\nmine.  I confess the charm of distant Memphis, but it is more glorious\nwithin its walls.  I am come to take thee thither.  Thank me with but a\nlook, I pray thee.\"\n\nSeeing she did not move nor answer, he tilted his head to one side and\nsurveyed her with interest.\n\n\"Hath much soft persuasion surfeited thee into deafness?\"  The color\nsurged up into Rachel's face.\n\n\"Ha!\" he exclaimed, \"not so!  Perhaps thou art but reluctant, then.\"\nHe whirled upon the other children, cowering behind him.\n\n\"Is she wedded?\" he demanded.\n\nFrightened and trembling, they did not answer till he repeated the\nquestion and stamped his foot.  Then one of them shook his head.\n\n\"It is well.  I need not delay till a slave-husband were disposed of in\nthe mines.  Hither, Unas!\"\n\nThe fat servitor came forward.\n\n\"I know this taskmaster not, nor can I coax or press him into giving\nher up without the cursed formality of a document of gift from the\nPharaoh.  Get thee back to Memphis with this,\" he drew off a signet\nring and gave it to the servitor, \"and to the palace.  There have my\nscribe draw up a prayer to the Pharaoh, craving for me the mastership\nover the Israelite, Rachel,--for household service.\"  The fan-bearer\nlaughed.  \"Forget not, this latter phrase, else the Pharaoh might fancy\nI would take her to wife.  Haste thee! and bring back Nak and Hebset\nwith thee to row the boat back, and help thee fetch her.  She may have\na lover who might make trouble for thee alone.  Get thee gone.\"\n\nHe took the reins from his servitor's hands and turned again toward\nRachel.\n\n\"I go forth to hunt, and there is danger in that pastime.  I may not\nreturn.  It would be most fitting to bid me a tender farewell, but thou\nart cruel.  Nevertheless, I shall care for myself most diligently this\nday, and return to thee in Memphis by nightfall.  Farewell!\"  He sprang\ninto his chariot and, urging his horses, pursued the far-away\nprocession at a gallop.\n\nUnas was already at the Nile-side, preparing to return to Memphis.  To\nRachel it seemed as if she had been set free for a moment, that her\nefforts to escape and her inevitable capture might amuse her tormentor.\nAnd after the manner of the miserable captive so beset, she seized upon\nthe momentary release and sought to fly.  The three little Hebrews\nclung to her--the one that had answered Har-hat weeping bitterly and\nremorsefully.\n\n\"Nay, weep not,\" she said in a hurried whisper.  \"It would have ended\njust the same.  Heard ye not what he said concerning a husband?  But\nlet me go!  Let Rachel hide ere the serving men return!\"\n\nShe undid their arms and ran back toward the quarries.  For a moment\nthe children hesitated and then they pursued her, crying in an\nundertone as they ran.  Past the stone-pits, up the winding valley she\nfled until she reached the encampment and her own tent.\n\nThe women saw her come and old Deborah, who was preparing vegetables\nfor the noonday meal, left the fires and hastened to the shelter.\nThere, Rachel, choking with terror and tears, gave the story of the\nmorning.\n\nDeborah made no interruption and after the disjointed and unhappy\nrecital was complete, she sat for some moments, motionless and silent.\nThen she arose and made as if to leave the tent, but Rachel caught at\nher hand in affright.\n\n\"Nay, be not so frightened,\" the old woman said soothingly.  \"I go to\nlook for Atsu.  He will come in a little while.\"\n\nWith that, she went forth.  After a time--more than two hours, in\ntruth, but infinitely longer to Rachel, the voice of the taskmaster was\nheard without, talking with Deborah.  He was permitting no curb to the\nexpression of his rage.\n\n\"The gods rend his heart to ribbons!\" he panted after a tempest of\nanathema.  \"Curse the insatiate brute!  Is there not enough of Egypt's\nwomen who are willingly loose that he must destroy the purest spirit on\nearth?  He shall not have her, if I take his life to save her!\"\n\nAfter a moment's savage rumination, he broke out again.\n\n\"He has us on the hip!  We shall be put to it to hide her away from him\nnow.  Do thou go to her--nay, I will go.\"\n\nRachel heard him enter the tent and walk across the matting on the\nfloor.  She flung her arm over her face and huddled closer to the\nlinen-covered heap of straw against which she had thrown herself.  Even\nthe eyes of the taskmaster were intolerable, in her shame.  Atsu\nplunged into the heart of his subject at once.\n\n\"There is no escape in the choosing of the tens, now, Rachel.  I have\nsaid that I would not vex thee again with my love.  Once I offered thee\nmarriage as refuge.  My love and the shelter of my name are thine to\ntake or leave.  I will urge thee no more.\"\n\nHe paused for a space and, as she made no answer, he went on as though\nshe had rejected him explicitly.\n\n\"Then I shall hide thee somewhere in Egypt.  The ruse is not secure,\nbut it may serve.\"\n\nShe sat up and put the hair back from her face.\n\n\"Thou good Atsu,\" she said in a voice subdued with much weeping, \"Wilt\nthou add more to mine already hopeless indebtedness to thee?  Art thou\nblind to the ill-use thou invitest upon thine own head in thy care for\nme?  Let me imperil thee no more.  Is there no other way?\"\n\nHe shook his head.  Slowly her face fell, and she sighed for very\nheaviness of spirit.  Atsu stooped and took her hand.\n\n\"Make ready and let us leave this place,\" he said kindly, \"and thou\ncanst decide in the securer precincts of Memphis what thou wilt do.\nLose no time.\"  He turned away and, signing to Deborah to follow him,\nleft the tent.\n\nRachel arose and began her preparations to depart.  The formidable\nblockade in the way to safety seemed to clear and her heart leaped at\nthe anticipation of freedom or stopped at the suggestion of failure.\nShe hastened slowly, for her excitement made most of her movements\nvain.  Her hands trembled and held things insecurely; she forgot the\nplace of many of her belongings, in that humble, orderly house.\nAlternately praying and fearing, she stopped now and then to be sure\nthat the sounds of the camp were not those of the returning servants.\nThe simple apparel gathered together, she collected the remaining\nmementoes of her family,--saved with so much pain and guarded with such\ndiligence by old Deborah.  These were trinkets of gold and ivory, bits\nof frail gauzes in which a wondrous perfume lingered, and a scroll of\nsheep-skin bearing the records of the house.  And after all these had\nbeen found and gathered together, she furtively put the straw aside and\ndrew forth the collar of golden rings.\n\nWith the first glint of light on the red metal, the hope and animation\nin her heart went out.  What of Kenkenes?  No thought came to her now,\nbut the most unhappy.  The obligations which she would have gladly laid\non him had fallen to Atsu.  She dared not confess to him her love, and\nshe could not give him gratitude.  He had entered her life like a\nbewildering radiance, but it was Atsu who had saved her and emancipated\nher and would save her again.\n\nShe thrust the collar into her bosom with a sob and went on\nmechanically with her preparations.  But during one of her movements\nthe coins clinked musically.  She clutched them, and they rang again,\nsoftly.  They reproached her, and in that irresistible way,--gently.\nThey made a sound even as she breathed.  As she walked they chafed.\nThey took weight and crushed her breast.  And with every sound from\nthem, she felt Kenkenes' arm about her, her hand lost in his, the\nwarmth of his young cheek against hers.  Never so long as his gift were\nin her possession might she hope to put these memories from her, and\nshe could not cherish them hopefully now.  Desperate grief stirred her\ninto action.  She went quickly to the door of the tent and there met\nDeborah.\n\n\"This is not mine,\" she said, holding up the necklace.  \"It belongs to\nthe young nobleman who brought me back to camp that night.\"\n\n\"Leave it with the tribe and it shall be given him.\"\n\n\"Nay, he may not return to camp.  I know where he comes and I can leave\nit there.  It is not far--only a little way.\"\n\nDeborah stood in her path.\n\n\"Will he be there?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Nay, that I can pledge thee.\"  She slipped past her guardian, out of\nthe tent and sped up the valley, determined that Deborah's prohibition,\nhowever just, should not stay her.\n\nThe old Israelite turned to look after her, and her eyes fell on Atsu,\nhis face black with rage, his arms folded, talking with a fat, wildly\ngesticulating servitor.  At that moment the courier caught sight of\nRachel flying up the valley and, flinging a document at Atsu's feet,\nstarted to pursue.  Atsu halted him with an iron hand, and Deborah\npaused to see no more.  With a prayer she ran up the valley the way\nRachel had taken.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nIN THE DESERT\n\nIn the early morning of the next day after the rout at Senci's,\nKenkenes wandered restlessly about the inner court of his father's\nhouse.  He had slept but little the preceding night, and now, dizzy and\nirritable, the freshness of the morning did not invigorate him and the\nhaunting perplexities were with him still.\n\nThere was no need of haste to the Arabian hills and yet he could not\nwait patiently in Memphis for an appropriate hour to visit Masaarah.\nHe paced hither and thither, flung himself on the benches in the shade,\nonly to rise and resume his uneasy walk.  Anubis was omnipresent and\nparticularly ungovernable.  If his young master were in motion he\nvibrated and oscillated like a shuttle.  If Kenkenes sat, he paced the\ntessellated pavement slowly and with a foot-fall lighter than a birds.\nThe sculptor eyed him understandingly, and finally arose.\n\n\"Come, Anubis!  Tit, tit, tit!\" he called, backing toward the\nwork-room.  Anubis bounded after him, but as Kenkenes paused just over\nthe threshold, the ape also halted.  His master retreated to the rear\nof the room still calling, but to the ape there was something\nportentous familiar in this proceeding.  It hinted of imprisonment.\nTurning as though pursued, he disappeared up an acacia tree from which\nhe could not be dislodged.  With a vexed exclamation, Kenkenes passed\nout of the court into the house, slamming the swinging door so sharply\nthat it sprang open again after him.  As the old portress put back the\nouter doors leading into the street, that her young master might go\nforth, a shadow quick as thought slipped out after him.  The old\nportress clapped her hands with a shrill command but the shadow was\ngone.\n\nOnce more in his work-day dress, his wallet of tools and provisions\nacross his shoulder, the young sculptor passed toward the Nile, moody\nand unhappy but determined.  At the river-side he hired the shallow\nbari that had given him faithful service for so long, and receiving the\noars from Sepet, the boatman, prepared to push away.  At that moment,\nAnubis, tremulous but unrepentant, bounded in beside him.\n\n\"Anubis!\" Kenkenes exclaimed.  \"Of a truth I believe thou art possessed\nof the arts of magic.  Now, if thou art lost in the hills and devoured\nby a wolf, upon thine own head be it.  Pull in that paw, before thou\nbecomest a foolish sacrifice to the sacred crocodile.  I wonder thy\nself-respect does not keep thee from coming when thou art unwelcome.\"\nAnd subsiding into silence, the sculptor turned toward Masaarah.\n\nHe made a landing below the stone wharf, for there a two-oared bari was\nalready drawn up, and the tangle of herbage was a safe hiding-place for\nhis own boat.  He looked toward the quarry and hesitated.  He had no\nheart yet to face her, who had laid his cruelest sorrow on him.  He\nwould continue his work on Athor until he had gathered assurance from\nthat unforbidding face.\n\nHis light foot made no sound and he entered the niche silently.\nKneeling on the chipped stone at the base of the statue, her face\nagainst the drapings, her arms clasping its knees, was Rachel.  In one\nhand was the collar of rings.  She had not heard the sculptor's\napproach.\n\nFor an instant his surprise transfixed him.  Had she repented?  A great\nwave of compassion and tenderness swept over him and he drew her face\naway between his palms.  With a terrified start, the girl turned a\nswift glance upward.  When she recognized Kenkenes her tearful face\ncolored vividly.  Her posture was such that she could not rise, and\nwith infinite gentleness he lifted her to her feet.\n\n\"What is it, Rachel?  Art thou in trouble?\"\n\nJoy and maidenly confusion took away her voice.\n\n\"Alas,\" he went on sadly.  \"Am I so fallen from thy favor, shut out and\ndenied thy confidence?\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" she protested.  \"Think not so harshly of me.  I am--I\ncame--\" she faltered and paused.  He did not help or spare her.  He had\ncome to learn why she had done this thing, why she had said that, and\nwhy she had repulsed him without explanation, when there was\nunmistakable preference for him in her unstudied acts.  He held his\npeace and waited for her to proceed.  Meanwhile Rachel suffered\ncruelly.  She had no thought in her mind concerning her conduct toward\nhim.  It was the shameful event of the morning, which must be told to\nexplain her presence before Athor, that made her cover her crimson face\nat last.  Kenkenes silenced the protests of his gallantry, and drawing\nher hands away, lifted her face on the tips of his fingers and waited.\n\nWhile they stood thus, Deborah, exhausted and praying, staggered into\nthe inclosure.\n\n\"Rachel!\" she panted.  \"The serving-men--thou art pursued!\"  The fat\ncourier, purple of countenance and breathing hard, appeared in the\nopening.  Rachel shrank against Kenkenes and Deborah dropped on her\nknees between the pair and the servitor.\n\n\"Out of the way, hag!\" the man puffed.  \"Let me at yon slave.  Out!\"\nHe struck at Deborah with a short mace but Kenkenes caught his arm and\nthrust him aside.\n\n\"Go, go back to the camp,\" he said to the old woman.  \"No harm shall\nbefall Rachel.\"  Raising her, he put her behind him, and advanced\ntoward the courier.\n\n\"Hast thou words with me?\" he said coolly.  \"What wilt thou?\"\n\n\"The girl.  Give her up!\"\n\n\"Nay, but thou art peremptory.  What wilt thou with her?\"\n\n\"For the harem of the Pharaoh's chief adviser,\" the man retorted.\n\nThe blood in Kenkenes' veins seemed to become molten; flashes of fierce\nlight blinded him and his sinews hardened into iron.  He bounded\nforward and his fingers buried themselves in soft and heated flesh.\n\nThe first glimmer of reason through his murderous insanity was the\nconsciousness of a rain of blows upon his head and shoulders, and a\nblackening face settling back to the earth before him.\n\nHe released his grip on the throat of the strangling servitor and flung\noff his other assailants.  For a moment, stunned by the hard usage at\nthe hands of the reinforcing men, he staggered, and seemed about to\nsuccumb.  The men pursued him to finish their work, but as he eluded\nthem, it seemed that a third person--a woman all in white with extended\narms--came into their view.\n\nKenkenes saw the foremost, a tall Nubian in a striped tunic, stop in\nhis tracks, and the second, smaller and lighter but a Nubian also,\nfollowing immediately behind, bumped against his fellow.\n\nMouths agape, eyes staring, they stood and marveled.  The strange\npresence, they discovered at once, was neither a human being nor an\napparition.  It was stone--a statue.\n\n\"Sacrilege!\" the first exploded.  \"A--a--by Amen, it is the slave\nherself!\"\n\nIn the little pause, Kenkenes recovered himself, but he knew that he\ngave Rachel to her fate, if the pair overcame him.  He caught her hand\nand with the whispered word, \"Run!\" fled with her toward the front of\nthe cliff facing the Nile.  It was a desperate chance for escape but he\nseized it.\n\nImmediately they were pursued and at the brink of the hill, overtaken.\nThe stake was too large for the young artist to risk its loss by\nadhering to the unwritten rules of combat.  He released Rachel, whirled\nabout, and as the foremost descended on him, ducked, seized the man\nabout the middle, and pitched him head-first down into the valley.  The\nsecond, the tall Nubian that wore the striped tunic, halted, dismayed,\nand Kenkenes, catching Rachel's hand, prepared to descend.  But she\nchecked him with a cry.  \"Look!\"\n\nHis eyes followed her outstretched arm.  At regular intervals along the\nNile, the distant figures of men were seen posted.  Escape was cut off.\nHe mounted to the top of the cliff and led Rachel out of view from the\nriver.  The second man retreated, and raged from afar.  The sculptor\nturned up the shingly slope toward the sun-white ridge of higher hills\ninland.  Here, he would hide with Rachel, till his strength returned\nand the ache left his head clear to plan a safe escape.  The Nubian\ncalled on all the gods to annihilate them and started in pursuit.  The\nsculptor did not pause, and, emboldened by the indifference of the man\nhe dogged, the pursuer drew near and made menacing demonstrations.\nKenkenes had no desire to be followed.  He bade Rachel wait for him and\napproached the Nubian.\n\n\"Now,\" he began coolly, \"thou art unwelcome, likewise, insolent.  Also\nart thou a fool, but it is an arch-idiot indeed that lacketh caution.\nThis maiden is beloved of all the Israelites.  Thou art one man, and\nalone.  It would not be safe for thee to attempt to take her without\nhelp even across that little space between Masaarah and the Nile.  I\nshould harass thee with others within call.  Do thou save thyself and\nsend the chief adviser after her.  I would treat with him also.\"\n\nThe Nubian backed away and Kenkenes followed him relentlessly until the\nman, overcome with trepidation, took to his heels and fled.\n\nEven then, Kenkenes did not lessen his vigilance.  He caught up Anubis,\nwho had bounded beside him during the entire time, and running back to\nRachel, turned into the limestone wastes.\n\nKenkenes had risked his suggestions to the single Nubian, and their\neffect upon him gave the young sculptor some hope that the pursuing\nforce had been limited to these three.  Though the men along the Nile\nwere not within call, they would prevent flight into Memphis, and the\ncamp of the Israelites, if not similarly picketed, would offer security\nonly for the moment.  Why had not the Hebrews protected her in the\nbeginning?  He would get to a place of perfect safety first and learn\nall concerning this matter.\n\nAfter an hour's cautious dodging from shelter to shelter, through the\nmasses of rocks, they toiled up the great ridge of hills deep into the\ndesert.  Rachel would have gone on and on, but Kenkenes drew her into\nthe shadow of a great rock and stopped to listen.  The oppressive\nsilence was unbroken.  Far and near only gray wastes of hills heaved in\nheated solitude about them.\n\n\"Sit here in the shadow and rest,\" he said, turning to the weary girl\nbeside him.  \"I shall keep watch.\"\n\nHe cleared a space for her among the debris at the base of the great\nfragment and pressed her down in the place he had made.  Next he undid\nhis belt and fastened Anubis to a boulder, too heavy for the ape to\nmove.  The animal resented the confinement, and Kenkenes, tying him by\nforce, found in the forepaws the collar of golden rings.  With a murmur\nof satisfaction, the young man reclaimed the necklace and thrust it\ninto the bosom of his dress.\n\nWhen he arose the day grew dark before him, and he was obliged to\nsteady himself against the rock till the vertigo passed.  His\nassailants had hurt him more than he had thought.  But he took up his\nvigil and maintained it faithfully till all sense of danger had\nvanished.\n\nRachel, who had been watching his face, touched his hand at last, and\nbade him rest.  The invitation was welcome and with a sigh he sank down\nbeside her.\n\n\"Lie down,\" she said softly.  \"Thou hast been most cruelly misused.\nAnd all for me!\"\n\nObediently, he slipped from a sitting to a recumbent posture.  She put\nout her arm, and supporting him, seemed about to take his head into her\nlap.  Instead, she slipped the mantle from the strap that bound it\nacross his shoulders, and rolling it swiftly, made a pillow of it for\nhis head.\n\nThe wallet that had hung by the same strap over his shoulder, attracted\nher attention and she guessed that it had been used as a carrier for\nprovision.  She laid it open and took out the water-bottle.  The\npith-stopper had held, during all the violent motion, and the dull\nsurface of the porous and ever-cooling pottery was cold and wet.\n\nShe put the bottle to his lips and, after he had drunk, bathed his\nbruises most tenderly.\n\nSuccumbing to the gentle influence of her fingers, he put up his hands\nto take them, but they moved out of his reach in the most natural\nmanner possible.  He could not feel that she had purposely avoided his\ntouch, but he made no further attempt when the soothing fingers\nreturned.  Finally he raised himself on his elbow and supported his\nhead in his hand.\n\n\"Now am I new again,\" he said; \"once more ready to help thee.  Let us\ntake counsel together and get into safety and comfort.\"  He paused a\nmoment till his serious words would not follow with unseeming\npromptness upon his light tone.\n\n\"I know thy trouble, Rachel,\" he began again soberly.  \"There is no\nneed that thou shouldst hurt thyself by the telling.  But there are\ndetails which would be helpful in aiding thee if I had them in mind.\nThou knowest better than I.  Wilt thou aid me?\"\n\nHer golden head drooped till her face was bowed upon her hands.  After\na little silence she answered him, her voice low with shame.\n\n\"This man sought to take me before, at Pa-Ramesu, but Atsu learned of\nit in time and sent me to Masaarah.  This morning I met him again--\"\nShe paused, and Kenkenes aided her.\n\n\"Aye, I can guess--poor affronted child!\"\n\n\"Atsu meant to escape with me again, but the servants of the nobleman\ncame before we could get away.\"\n\nKenkenes knew by her choice of words that she did not know the name of\nher persecutor, and he did not tell her what it was.  He could not bear\nthe name of Har-hat on her lips.  She went on, after a little silence.\n\n\"I came--\" she began, coloring deeply, \"to leave thy collar with the\nstatue--I did not expect to find thee there.\"\n\nHow little it takes to dispirit a lover!  How could he know that any\nthought had led her to do that thing save an impulse actuated by\nindifference or real dislike?  His hope was immediately reduced to the\nlowest ebb.  The mention of the taskmaster's name brought forward the\nprobability of a rival.\n\n\"I can take thee back to Atsu,\" he said slowly.  \"These menials will\nnot remain in the hills after sunset, and under cover of night I can\nslip thee, by strategy, past any sentries they may have set and get\nthee to Atsu.  I, by my sacrilege, and he by his insubordination, are\nboth under ban of the law, but danger with him will be sweeter danger\nthan peril with me, I doubt not.\"\n\nShe looked at him, and the hurt that began to show on her face gave\nplace to puzzlement.\n\n\"Is it not so?\" he asked with a bitter smile.  \"The companionship of\nones beloved works wonders out of heavy straits!\"\n\n\"But--.  Dost thou--?  Atsu is naught to me,\" she cried, her grave face\nbrightening.\n\nThe blood surged back to his cheeks and the life into his eyes.  He\nleaned toward her, ready to ask for more enlightenment concerning her\nconduct, when she went on dreamily: \"But he is wondrous kind and hath\nmade the camp bright with his humanity.  Israel loveth Atsu.\"\n\nKenkenes turned again to the perplexity in hand.\n\n\"I came this morning to ask thy permission to give thee thy freedom.  I\ndoubt not Israel of Masaarah, hidden in a niche in the hills, does not\ndream that it is the plan of the Pharaoh--nay, the heir to the crown of\nEgypt by the mouth of the Pharaoh--to exterminate the Hebrews.\"  Rachel\nrecoiled from him.\n\n\"What sayest thou?\" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with terror.\n\n\"Nay, forgive me!\" he said penitently.  \"So intent was I on thy rescue\nthat I forgot to soften my words.  Let it be.  It is said; I would it\nwere not true.\"\n\nHer affright was only momentary, for her faith restored her ere his\nlast words were spoken.\n\n\"It will not come to pass,\" she declared.  \"Jehovah will not suffer it.\nThou shalt see--and let the Pharaoh beware!\"  Her words were vehement\nand she offered no argument.  She saw no need of it, since her belief,\nmerely expressed, had the force of fact with her.\n\n\"I am committed to the cause of Israel--that thou knowest, Rachel,\"\nKenkenes made answer.  After another silence he took up the thread of\nhis talk.\n\n\"If thy danger from this man were set aside I should not return thee to\nthe camp, even if there were no doom spoken upon Israel.  I would have\nthee free; I would have thee in luxury, sheltered in my father's\nhouse--I would--\"\n\n\"Thou dost paint a picture that mocks me now, O Kenkenes,\" she broke in\non his growing fervor.  \"Doubly am I enslaved, and the safety of\nMasaarah and Memphis is no more for me.\"\n\n\"Thou hast said,\" he answered in a subdued voice.  \"It was given me\nlast night to win favor with the Pharaoh for thy sake, but the need of\nthat favor fell before it was won.  But I despair not.  What is thy\npleasure, Rachel?  Shall I take thee to Atsu, or wilt thou stay with\nme?\"\n\n\"This nobleman will know of a surety that Atsu is my friend, but he\nmust guess the other Egyptian who hath helped me.  If I go to Atsu I\ntake certain danger to him; if I stay with thee the peril must wander\nere it overtakes us.  But I would not burden either.  Is there no other\nway?\"\n\nHe shook his head.  \"It lies between me and Atsu to care for you, and\nthe peril for you and for us is equal.  My name is as good as\npublished, for I am gifted with a length of limb beyond my fellows.  I\nwas found before the statue and they, describing me to the priests,\nwill prove to the priests, who know my calling, that the son of Mentu\nhas committed sacrilege.  And the priesthood would not wait till dawn\nto take me.\"\n\n\"I will stay with thee, Kenkenes,\" she said simply.\n\nHe became conscious of the collar on his breast and drew it forth.\n\n\"With this,\" he began, assuming a lightness, \"I fear I gave thee\noffense one day and thou hast held it against me.  Now let me heal that\nwound and sweeten thy regard for me with this same offending trinket.\nWilt thou take it as a peace-offering from my hands and wear it\nalways?\"  She bent toward him and, with worshiping hands, he put aside\nthe loosened braids and clasped the necklace about her throat.\n\n\"There are ten rings,\" he continued.  \"Let them be named thus,\" telling\nthem off with his fingers, \"This first of all--Hope--it shall be thy\nstay; this--Faith--it shall comfort thee; this--Good Works--it shall\npublish thee; this--Sacrifice--it shall win thee many victories;\nthis--Chastity--it shall be thy name; the next--Wisdom--it shall guide\nthee; after it--Steadfastness--it shall keep thee in all these things;\nTruth--it shall brood upon thy lips; Beauty--it shall not perish; this,\nthe last, is Love, of which there is naught to be said.  It speaketh\nfor itself.\"\n\nTheir eyes met at his last words and for a moment dwelt.  Then Rachel\nlooked away.\n\n\"Are the fastenings secure?\" she asked.\n\n\"Firm as the virtues in a good woman's soul.\"\n\n\"They will hold.  I would not lose one of them.\"\n\nA long silence fell.  The curious activity of desert-life, interrupted\nfor the time by the presence of the fugitives, resumed its tenor and\ndroned on about them.  The rasping grasshopper, the darting lizard, the\nscorpion creeping among the rocks, a high-flying bird, a small,\nskulking, wild beast put sound and movement in the desolation of the\nregion.  The horizon was marked by undulating hills to the west; to the\neast, by sharper peaks.  The scant growth was blackened or partly\ncovered with sand, and it fringed the distant uplands like a stubbly\nbeard.  The little ravines were darkened with hot shadows, but the bald\nslopes presented areas, shining with infinitesimal particles of quartz\nand mica, to a savage sun and an almost unendurable sky.  From\nsomewhere to the barren north the wind came like a breath of flame,\nash-laden and drying.  There was nothing of the cool, damp river breeze\nin this.  They were in the hideous heart of the desert to whom death\nwas monotony, resisting foreign life, an insult.\n\nThe two in the shortening shadow of the great rock were glad of the\nwater-bottle.  The necessity of comfortable shelter for Rachel began to\nappeal urgently to Kenkenes.  He put aside his dreams and thought aloud.\n\n\"What cover may I offer thy dear head this night?\" he began.  \"We may\nnot return to the camp, for there of a surety they lie in wait for us.\nToora is deserted and so tempting a spot for fugitives that it will be\nsearched immediately.  Not a hovel this side of the Nile but will be\nvisited.  I would take thee to my father--\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she said firmly.  \"I will take affliction to none other.\nAlready have I undone two of the best of Egypt.  I will carry the\ndistress no further.\"\n\nAfter a silence he began again.\n\n\"How far wilt thou trust in me, Rachel?\"\n\nShe raised her face and looked at him with serious eyes.\n\n\"In all things needful which thou wilt require of me.\"\n\n\"And thou canst sleep this night in an open boat?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"To-morrow, then,\" he continued, taking her hand, \"we shall reach\nNehapehu, where I can hide thee with some of the peasantry on my\nfather's lands.  And there thou canst abide until I go to Tape and\nreturn.\n\n\"Thou must know,\" he continued, explaining, \"the Athor of the hills is\nnot my first sacrilege.  Once I committed a worse.  My father was the\nroyal sculptor to Rameses and is now Meneptah's murket.\"  Rachel\nglanced at him shyly and sought to withdraw her hand, for she\nrecognized the loftiness of the title.  But he retained his clasp.  \"He\nis a mighty genius.  He planned and executed Ipsambul.  For that, which\nis the greatest monument to Rameses, the Incomparable Pharaoh loved\nhim, and while the king lived my father was overwhelmed with his\nfavors.  Nor did the royal sculptor's good fortune wane, as is the\ncommon fate of favorites, for the great king planned that my father's\nhouse should be honored even after his death though the dynasties\nchange.  So Rameses gave him a signet of lapis lazuli, and its\ninscription commanded him who sat at any time thereafter on the throne\nof Egypt to honor the prayer of its bearer in the unspeakable name of\nthe Holy One.\n\n\"After the death of Rameses,\" the narrator went on, \"we went to Tape,\nmy father and I, to inscribe the hatchments and carve the scene of the\nJudgment of the Dead in the tomb of the great king.  Now, I am my\nfather's only child and have been taught his craft.  I have been an apt\npupil, and he had no fear in trusting me with the execution of the\nfresco.  I had long been in rebellion, practising in secret my lawless\nideas, and I was seized with an uncontrollable aversion to marring\nthose holy walls with the conventional ugliness commanded by the\nritual.  I assembled my ideas and dared.  I worked rapidly and well.\nThe work was done before my father discovered it.\"  Kenkenes paused and\nlaughed a little.\n\n\"Suffice it to say the fresco was erased.  And the solemnity of the\ncrypt was hardly restored before my father found that his sacred\nsignet, which he always wore, was gone.  Nay, nay, I might not search\nfor it more than the fruitless once, for he declared, and of a truth\nbelieved firmly, that the great king had reclaimed his gift.  I did not\nand never have I believed it.  Now I need the signet and I shall go\nafter it on the strength of that belief.\n\n\"Having found it, I shall appeal to Meneptah for thy liberty and safety\nand whatever boon thou wouldst have and for myself.  What thinkest\nthou?  Shall I go on?\"\n\nRachel smiled and looked up at him gratefully.\n\n\"I will go with thee, Kenkenes,\" she said.\n\nHer ready confidence and the easiness of his name on her lips filled\nhim with joy.  \"Ah! ye ungentle Hathors!\" he mourned to himself, \"why\nmay I not tell her how much I love her?\"\n\nBut the white hand which he pressed against his breast asked its\nrelease with gentle reluctance, and he set it free.\n\nOnce again the silence fell and was not frequently broken thereafter.\n\nThere was no invitation in her manner, and he could not speak what he\nwould.\n\nThe sun dropped behind the Libyan hills and the heights filled with\nshadow.  At length he said:\n\n\"It is time.\"\n\nLifting her to her feet, the ape attending them, he went toward the\nNile, hand in hand with Rachel, his love all untold.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE TREASURE CAVE\n\nThe sudden night had just fallen, and there was an incomplete moon in\nthe west.  But already the desert was full of feeble shadows and silver\ninterspaces, and all that tense silence of evening upon unpeopled\nlocalities.\n\nKenkenes stood upon the top of a huge monolith, listening.  Below, with\nonly her face in the faint moonlight, was Rachel, looking up to him.\nAnubis, oppressed by the voiceless expectancy of the two young people,\ncrouched at his master's feet.  For a while there was only the ringing\nturmoil of his own quickened blood in the young man's ears.  But\npresently, up from the southern slope, rose the sound he had heard some\nminutes before--a long, quavering note, ending in a high eery wail.\n\nKenkenes was familiar with the screams of wild beasts, and he knew the\nirreconcilable differences between them and the human voice.  Instantly\nhe sent back across the hollow a strong reply that the startled echoes\nrepeated again and again.  Almost immediately the first cry was\nrepeated, but a desperate power had entered into it.  Kenkenes dropped\nfrom his point of vantage.\n\n\"Some one calleth, of a surety,\" he said, \"and by the voice, it is a\nwoman.\"\n\n\"It is Deborah come up from the camp to seek for me!\" Rachel exclaimed.\n\n\"I doubt not.  But the gods are surely with her, to fend the beasts\nfrom her in this savage place.  It is well we came this way.\"\n\nWith all the haste possible on the rough slope, they descended.  The\nground was familiar to Kenkenes, for the niche was near the foot of the\ndeclivity.\n\nHalf-way down he called again, and the answer came up from the\nhiding-place of Athor.  In another moment they were within and beside\nthe prostrate form of the old Israelite.  Rachel dropped on her knees,\ncrying out in her solicitude.  Her words were in the soft language of\nher own people and unintelligible to Kenkenes, but her voice trembled\nwith concern.  The old woman answered soothingly and at some length.\nThe narrative was frequently broken by low exclamations from Rachel,\nand at its end the girl turned to Kenkenes with a sob of anger.\n\n\"The Lord God break them in pieces and His fury be upon them!\" she\ncried.  \"They set upon her and beat her and left her to the jackals!\"\n\n\"Set consume them!\" Kenkenes responded wrathfully.  \"How came they upon\nyou?  Did you not return to camp?\"\n\n\"Nay, the mother heart in me would not suffer me to desert Rachel.  I\nstayed without this place, and ye outstripped me when ye fled.  After a\ntime the fat servitor, rousing out of his swoon, came forth from here,\nand another, who had been lurking in the rocks, joined him, and the\npair, in searching for you, discovered me and beat me with maces,\nleaving me for dead.\"\n\nAfter a grim silence, broken only by the low weeping of Rachel,\nKenkenes bade her continue.\n\n\"The search they made for you was not thorough, for one was ill and\nboth were afraid.  But they came upon the statue again, and the sight\nof it mocked them, so they overthrew it and broke it.\"\n\nKenkenes drew a sharp breath and glanced at the place where Athor\nshould have been.  Except for themselves, the niche was evidently\nvacant.  The old woman continued:\n\n\"Then they descended into the camp of Israel.  After a time I heard the\nsound of voices as if there were many men in the hills, and the heart\nof me was afraid.  With much pain and travail I crept into this place,\nand here sounds come but faintly.  But I heard sufficient to know that\nthere were many who sought diligently, but whether they were our own\npeople or the minions of thine enemy, Rachel, I could not with safety\ndiscover.\"\n\n\"Said they aught concerning their intents--this pair, who set upon\nyou?\" Kenkenes asked.\n\n\"O, aye, they blustered, and if they bring half of their threats to\npass, it will go ill with thee, Egyptian.  They will set the priests\nupon thee immediately; the hills will be searched; the Nile will be\npicketed.  It behooves thee to have a care for thyself.  As for Rachel,\nI know not what will become of her.  She is penned out in the desert,\nfor the camp is to be watched, and they boast that the hunt will end\nonly with her capture.\"\n\n\"Let them look to it that it does not end with the choking of the swine\nwho inspired it!  I long to put him beyond the cure of leeches.\"\n\nHe made no answer to Deborah's words concerning Rachel's plight.\nDeborah had disarranged his plans.  He could not take the old woman,\ngrievously wounded, on the long journey to Nehapehu, and, indeed, had\nshe been well, his small boat might not hold together with a burden of\nthree for a distance of half a hundred miles.  For a moment his\nperplexity baffled his ingenuity.\n\nIt occurred to him that he might cross to the Memphian shore and\nprocure a larger boat; but what would protect his helpless charges\nduring the hours of absence, or in case he were taken?  He realized\nthat he dare not run a risk; his every movement must be safe and sure.\nHe could not ask the wounded Israelite to return to the camp now,\nseeing that she had suffered mistreatment at the hands of Har-hat's\nservants and deserted not.\n\n\"If there were but a grotto in the rocks--a cave or a tomb--\" he\nstopped and smote his hands together.\n\n\"By Apis!  I have it--the Tomb of the Discontented Soul!\"\n\nHe turned to the two women, who had talked softly together in Hebrew,\nand spoke lightly in his relief.\n\n\"We have shelter for this night--safer than any other place in all\nEgypt.  Trouble no more concerning that.  Let me hide my sacrilege and\nrob them of indisputable evidence against me, and then we shall get to\nour refuge.\"\n\nHe lifted Deborah in his arms, and bearing her out into the open, left\nher with Rachel.\n\nThen he reentered the shadowy niche.  The night was not too dark to\nshow the interior.  Athor, a torso, broken in twain, headless, armless,\nwas prostrate.  It had been pushed over against the great cube that\nsheltered it and the fall against the hard limestone had ruined it.\nKenkenes clenched his hands and choked back the angry tears.  To the\nartist the destruction partook of the heinousness of murder, of the\npathos of death.  He set about concealing the wreck with all speed, for\nhe wished to be merciful to his eyes.\n\nHe collected the fragmentary members, and carrying them down the slope\na little way, dug a grave for them in the sand.  To the trench he\nrolled the trunk on the tamarisk cylinders, and buried all that was\nleft of Athor the Golden.  Over the grave he laid a flat stratum of\nrock that the wind might not uncover the ruin.\n\nReturning to the niche, he took up the matting with its weight of\nchipped stone, and went down through the dark to the line of rocks\nopposite the quarries.  There he permitted the rubble to slide with a\nmixture of earth, like a natural displacement, into the talus, of a\nsimilar nature, at the base of the cliff.  The matting he shook and\nlaid aside.  It would serve for a bed in the tomb that night.\n\nThen he destroyed the north wall.  In the four months of its existence\nthe sand had banked against it more than half its height.  Each stone\nremoved in the dismantling was carried away to a new place, until the\nwhole fortification was, as once it had been, scattered up and down the\nslope.  The light, dry sand he pitched with his wooden shovel against\nthe great cube until it all lay where the wind would have piled it had\nno second wall stood in its way.  By dawn the strong breeze from the\nnorth would cover every footprint and shovel-mark to a level once more.\nHe went again to the line of rocks and threw the shovel with a sure aim\nand a strong arm into the quarries across the valley.  To-morrow it\nwould seem that an Israelite had forgotten one of his tools.\n\nThe work was done.\n\nWith an ache in his heart, Kenkenes returned to Deborah and Rachel.\n\n\"The shelter for us is in the cliff to the north, near Toora,\" he began\nimmediately.  \"It is a tomb, but others before us have partaken of the\ndead's hospitality.\" [1]\n\n\"How am I to reach it?\" Deborah asked.  \"Is the place far?\"\n\n\"A good hour's journey, but we go by water.  Still, we must walk to the\nNile.\"\n\n\"That I can not do,\" the old woman declared.\n\n\"Nay, but I can carry you,\" Kenkenes replied, bending over her.  She\nshrank away from him.\n\n\"Thou hast forgotten,\" she protested.\n\n\"Not so,\" he insisted stoutly.  Taking her up, he settled her on one\nstrong arm against his breast.  The free hand he extended to Rachel,\nwho had taken the matting, and together they went laboriously down the\nsteep front of the hill.  They proceeded cautiously, watching before\nand behind them lest they be surprised.\n\nHe had covered his boat well with the tangle of sedge and marsh-vines,\nand after a long space of search, he found it.\n\nOnce again he lifted Deborah and laid her in the bottom of the boat.\nWith its triple burden, the bari sank low in the water, but Kenkenes\nwielded the oars carefully.  The faint moonlight showed him the way.\nNow and then a red glimmer across the grain marked the location of a\nfarmer's hut, but there was no other sign of life.  Even at the\nMemphian shore there was little activity.\n\nWhen the line of cultivation ended Kenkenes knew he was in the\nprecincts of the Marsh of the Discontented Soul.  He rowed across what\nhe believed to be one-half of its width and drew into the reeds.  The\nsound and movement awoke many creatures, which hurried away in the\ndark, and something slid off into the river with a splash.  The lapping\nof the ripples sounded like a drinking beast.  Kenkenes put a bold foot\non the soggy sand and stepped out.  Rachel followed him with bated\nbreath.  Anubis unceremoniously mounted his shoulder.  He dragged the\nbari far up on the shore, once more lifted Deborah and started up the\nwarm sand.\n\nAt the base of the limestone cliff he deposited his burden and brought\ntogether a little heap of dried reeds and flag blades.  This he fired\nafter many failures by striking together his chisel and a stone.\nRachel hid the blaze from the Nile while he made and lighted a torch of\ntwisted reeds and stamped out the fire.  In the feeble moonlight he\ndiscerned a stairway of rough-hewn steps leading into a cavity in the\nwall.  The southern side of the ascent was sheltered by an outstanding\nbuttress of rock.\n\nHe put the torch into Rachel's hand, and, taking up Deborah, climbed a\ndozen steps to a dark opening half-closed by a fallen door.  Pushing\nthe obstruction aside with his foot, he entered.  When they were all\nwithin he closed the entrance and unrolled the reeds.\n\nThere was a helter-skelter of mice past them and a rustle of retiring\ninsects.  The torch blazed brightly and showed him a squat copper lamp\non the floor of the outer chamber.  The vessel contained sandy dregs of\noil and a dirty floss of cotton.  With an exclamation of surprise\nKenkenes lighted the wick, and after a little sputtering, it burned\nsmokily.\n\n\"Nay, now, how came a lamp in this tomb?\" he asked without expecting an\nanswer.\n\nThe chamber was low-roofed and small--the whole interior rough with\nchisel-marks.  To the eyes of the sculptor, accustomed to the gorgeous\nfrescoes in the tombs of the Memphian necropolis, the walls looked bare\nand pitiful.  There were several prayers in the ancient hieroglyphics,\nbut no ancestral records or biographical paintings.  Several strips of\nlinen were scattered over the floor, with the customary litter of dried\nleaves, dust, refuse brought by rodents, cobwebs and the cast-off\nchrysalides of insects.  In one corner was a bronze jar, Kenkenes\nexamined it and found it contained cocoanut-oil for burning.\n\n\"Of a truth this is intervention of the gods,\" he commented, a little\ndazed, but filling his lamp nevertheless.\n\nAhead of him was a black opening leading into the second chamber.  He\nstooped, and entering, held the lamp above his head.  He cried out, and\nRachel came to his side.\n\nIn the center of the room was a stone sarcophagus of the early, broad,\nflat-topped pattern.  In one corner was a two-seated bari, in another a\nmattress of woven reeds.  Leaning against the sarcophagus was a wooden\nrack containing several earthenware amphorae; on the floor about it was\na touseled litter of waxed outer cerements torn from mummies.  All\nthese things they observed later.  Now their wide eyes were fixed on\nthe top of the coffin.  At one time there had been a dozen linen sacks\nset there, but the mice and insects had gnawed most of them away.  The\nbottoms and lower halves yet remained, forming calyxes, out of which\ntumbled heaps of gold and silver rings, zones, bracelets, collars and\nmasks from sarcophagi--all of gold; images of Isis in lapis lazuli and\namethyst; scarabs in garnets and hematite, Khem in obsidian, Bast in\ncarnelian, Besa in serpentine, signets in jasper, and ropes of diamonds\nwhich had been Babylonian gems of spoil.\n\n\"The plunder of Khafra and Sigur, by my mummy!\" Kenkenes ejaculated.\n\n\"Will they return?\" Rachel asked, in a voice full of fear.\n\n\"They are gathered to Amenti for their misdeeds many months agone,\" he\nexplained.  \"See how thickly the dust lies here without a print upon\nit.  They were tomb-robbers.  None of the authorities could discover\ntheir hiding-place, and lo! here it is.\"\n\nHe walked round the sarcophagus and found at the head, on the floor,\nseveral bronze cases sealed with pitch.  He opened one of them with\nsome difficulty.  Flat packages wrapped with linen lay within.\n\n\"Dried gazelle-meat,--and I venture there is wine in those amphorae.\nThey lived here, I am convinced, and fed upon the food offerings they\nfilched from the tombs.  Was there ever such intrepid lawlessness?\"\n\n\"Here is a snare and net,\" Rachel reported.\n\n\"Did they not profit by superstition?  As long as they were here they\nwere safe.  They did not fear the spirit.\"\n\n\"The spirit?\" Deborah, still in the outer chamber, repeated with\ninterest.\n\n\"The spirit of this tomb,\" Kenkenes explained, returning to her.  In a\nfew words he told her the story as Hotep had told it to him.\n\n\"Canst thou discover the name?\" she asked when he had finished.\n\n\"The sarcophagus is plain.  There is no inscription within yonder\ncrypt, for I have this moment looked.  But let me examine this writing\nhere by the door.\"\n\nAfter a while he spoke again.  \"The name is not given.  It says only\nthis:\n\n             'The Spouse to Potiphar,\n           Captain of the Royal Guard to\n             Apepa, Child of the Sun,\n   In the Twelfth Year of Whose Luminous Reign\n                     She Died.\n   Rejected by the Forty-two at On, because of\n                    Unchastity,\n                  She Lies Here,\n  Until Admitted to the Divine Pardon of Osiris.'\"\n\n\n\"Aye, I know,\" Deborah responded.  \"It is history to the glory of a son\nof Abraham.  Him, who brought our people here, she would have tempted,\nbut he would have none of her.  Therefore she bore false witness\nagainst him and he was thrust into prison.\n\n\"But the God of Israel does not suffer for ever His chosen to be\nunjustly served, and he was finally exalted over Upper and Lower\nMizraim.  And honor and long life and a perfumed memory are his, and\nshe--lo! she hath done one good thing.  Her house hath become a shelter\nfor the oppressed and for that may she find peace at last.\"\n\nKenkenes looked at the old woman with admiring eyes.  The quaint speech\nof the Hebrews had always fascinated him, but now it had become melody\nin his ears.  In this, the first moment of mental idleness since\nmidday, he had time to think on Deborah.  He knew that he had seen her\nbefore, and now he remembered that it was she who had transfixed him\nwith a look on an occasion when Israel had first come to Masaarah.\n\nBut he did not remind her of the incident.  Instead, he set about\ncounteracting any effect that might follow should her memory, unaided,\nrecall the occurrence.  He had put her down on the matting, and the\nrunning spiders and slower insects worried her.\n\n\"A murrain on the bugs,\" he said.  \"We shall have a creepy night of it.\nLet us bottle this treasure and lay the mattress out of their reach on\nthe sarcophagus.  Endure them a while, Deborah, till we make thee a\nrefuge.\"\n\nHe set the lamp in the opening from the outer into the inner crypt and\nentered the second chamber.  Rachel followed him, and the old Israelite\nwatched them with brilliant eyes.\n\nKenkenes swept the jewels as if they had been almonds into an empty\namphora and returned it to the rack.  The mattress he laid upon the\nbroad top of the sarcophagus.\n\n\"A line of oil run around the coffin will keep the insects away,\"\nRachel ventured.  Kenkenes returned to the outer chamber for the jar of\noil; but Rachel took it from him.\n\n\"Let me be thy handmaid,\" she said softly.\n\nHe did not protest, and she reentered the crypt.\n\n\"Luckily the mattress is large enough for the two of you,\" Kenkenes\nobserved to Deborah, \"but it will be hard sleeping.\"\n\n\"The Hebrews are not spoiled with couches of down,\" she replied.\n\n\"There are enough of the wrappings in yonder to take off the hardness,\nbut even with the matting over them they will be gruesome things to\nsleep upon.  They would bewitch your dreams.  But mayhap ye will not\nsuffer from one night's discomfort.\"\n\n\"Where go we to-morrow?\"\n\nKenkenes did not answer immediately.  Another plan for Rachel's\nsecurity had been growing in his mind, and his heart leaped at the\nprospect of its acceptance by her.\n\n\"There is a large boat here, and we might go to On,\" he began at last.\n\"There is one way possible to save Rachel from this man as long as I\nlive, and I would she were to be persuaded into accepting the\nconditions.\"\n\n\"Name them and let me judge.\"\n\nHe hesitated for proper words and his cheeks flushed.  Deborah looked\nat him with comprehension in her gaze.\n\n\"Rachel is not blind to my love for her, and thou, too, art discerning.\nYet I would declare myself.  I love Rachel, and I would take her to\nwife.  Then, not even the Pharaoh could take her from me by law.\"\n\nDeborah raised herself with difficulty, and after peering into the\ninner chamber to see where Rachel was, approached him softly.\n\n\"Thou lovest Rachel.  Aye, that is a tale I have heard oftener than I\nhave fingers to count upon.  From the first men of her tribe I have\nheard it, from the best of Egypt and the worst.  But she kept her heart\nand stayed by my side.  Now thou comest, young, comely, gifted with\nfair speech and full of fervor.  Thou lovest as she would be loved, and\nher heart goes out to thee, even as thou wouldst have it--in love.\"\n\nKenkenes' face glowed and his fine eyes shone with joy.\n\n\"But mark thou!\" she continued passively.  \"If thou wouldst save her,\nthink upon some other way, for thou mayest not wed her.  Jehovah\nplanteth the faith of Abraham anew in Israel.  In Rachel and in\nRachel's house it died not during the hundred years of the bondage.\nTherefore the name is godly.  Of her, what would thy heart say?  Hath\nshe not beauty, hath she not wisdom, hath she not great winsomeness?\nThere is none like her in these days among all the children of Abraham.\nTo her Israel looketh for example, for, since she compelleth by her\ngrace, those who behold her will consider whatever she doeth as good.\nGreat is the reward of him who can direct and directeth aright, but\nshall he not appear abominable in the sight of the Lord if he useth his\npower to lead astray?  Lo! if she wed thee, to her people it will seem\nthat she would say: 'Behold, this man is fair in my sight, and it is\ngood for the chosen of the Lord to take the idolater into his bosom.'\nThere is a multitude in Israel, which, like sheep, follow blindly as\nthey are led.  Great will be the labor to engrave the worship of the\nLord God in their hearts, when all the powers of Israel shall strive to\ndo that thing for them.  How shall there be any success if Moses and\nthe appointed of the Lord bid them worship, while the husband or wife\nthat dwelleth in their tent saith 'Worship not'?  To these, Rachel's\nmarriage with thee would be justification and incentive to incline\ntoward idolaters and idols.  Then there are the wise and discerning who\nknow that Rachel hath turned away from the best among her people.  How,\nthen, shall she be fallen in their sight if she wed with an idolater?\n\n\"She knoweth all these things and she keepeth a firm hold upon herself,\nbut she hath not said these things to thee lest her strength fail her.\"\n\nAnd thus was the mystery explained to him.\n\n\"Thou bowest down to a beetle,\" she went on without pausing.  \"Thou\nworshipest a cat; thou offerest up sacrifice to an image and conservest\nabominable and heathen rites.  Thou art an idolater, and as such thou\nart not for Rachel.  And yet, this further: if thou canst become a\nworshiper of the true God, thou shalt take her.  Never have I seen an\nEgyptian won over to the faith of Abraham, but there approacheth a time\nof wonders and I shall not marvel.\"\n\nTo Egypt its faith was paramount.  Israel in its palmiest days was not\nmore vigilantly, jealously fanatical than Egypt.  Every worshiper was a\nzealot; every ecclesiast an inquisitor.  Church and State were\ninseparably united; law was fused with religion; science and the arts\nwere governed by hieratic canons.\n\nThe individual ate, slept and labored in the name of the gods, and\nnational matters proceeded as the Pantheon directed by the\necclesiastical mouthpiece.\n\nLife was an ephemeral preface to the interminable and actual existence\nof immortality.  Temporal things were transient and only of\nprobationary value.  The tomb was the ultimate and hoped-for, infinite\nabiding-place.\n\nTo the ideal Osirian his faith was the essential fiber in the fabric of\nhis existence, to withdraw which meant physical and spiritual\ndestruction.  The forfeiture of his faith for Rachel, therefore,\nappealed to Kenkenes as a demand upon his blood for his breath's sake.\nHis plight was piteous; never were alternatives so apparently\nimpossible.\n\nAt first there was no coherent thought in the young man's mind.  His\nconsciousness seemed to be full of rebellion, longing and amazement.\nNever in his life had he been refused anything he greatly desired, when\nhe had justice on his side.  Now he was rejected, not for a\nshortcoming, but, according to his religious lights, for a virtue\ninstead.  His gaze searched the visible portion of the other chamber\nand found Rachel.  In the half-light he saw that she had cast herself\ndown against the sarcophagus, face toward the stone, her whole attitude\none of weary depression.\n\nPiteous as was the sight, there was comfort in it for him.  Rachel\nloved him so much that she was bowed with the conflict between her love\nand her duty.  His manhood reasserted itself.  Love in youth bears hope\nwith it in the face of the most hopeless hindrances.  With the blood of\nthe Orient in his veins and the fire of youth to heighten its ardor, he\nwas not to be wholly and for ever cast down.  Furthermore, there was\nRachel to be comforted.\n\nHe turned to Deborah.\n\n\"Let it pass, then.  Deny me not the joy of loving her, nor her the\nsmall content of loving me.  If there should be change, let it be in\nthy prohibitions, not in our love.  Enough.  Art thou weary?  Wouldst\nthou sleep?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she answered bluntly.\n\n\"Then I would take counsel with thee.  Thou knowest the end of Israel?\"\nhe asked.\n\n\"I know the purpose of the Pharaoh, but there is no end to Israel.\"\n\n\"Not yet, perchance,\" he said calmly, \"or never.  But we shall not put\ntrust in auguries.  The oppression of the people is already begun at\nPa-Ramesu and the brick-fields.  Ye shall not return to those dire\nhardships.  Ye can not return to Masaarah.  In Memphis I offer my\nfather's house, but Rachel refuses it.  In Nehapehu there is safety\namong the peasantry on the murket's lands.  My father lost an\nall-powerful signet in the tomb of the Incomparable Pharaoh at Tape,\nand did not search for it because he believed that Rameses had taken it\naway from him.  The king will honor it and grant whatever petition I\nmake to him.  If ye are unafraid to abide in this tomb for the few\nremaining hours of this night I shall take you to Nehapehu at dawn.\nThere ye can abide till I go to Tape and return.  What sayest thou?\"\n\nThe old woman looked at him quietly for a moment.\n\n\"Is this place safe?\" she asked.\n\n\"The forty-two demons of Amenti could not drive an Egyptian into this\ntomb.\"\n\n\"How comes it that thou art not afraid?\"\n\n\"I have no belief in spirits.\"\n\n\"Nor have we.  Why need we go hence?  We shall abide here till thou\nshalt return.\"\n\n\"In this place!\" Kenkenes exclaimed, recoiling.  \"Nay!  I shall be gone\nsixteen days at least.\"\n\n\"We shall not fear to live in a tomb, we who have defied untombed death\ndaily.  We shall remain here.\"\n\n\"This hole--this cave of death!\"\n\n\"We have shelter, and by thine own words, none will molest us here.  We\nare not spoiled with soft living, nor would we take peril to any.\nWithout are fowls, herbs, roots, water--within, security, meat and\nwine.  We shall not fear the dead whom, living, Joseph rebuked.  We\nshall be content and well housed.\"\n\n\"But thou art wounded,\" he essayed.\n\nShe scouted his words with heroic scorn.  \"Nay, let us have no more.\nIf thou canst accomplish this thing for Rachel, do it with a light\nheart, for we shall be safe.  If thou art successful, Israel will rise\nup and call thee blessed; if thou failest, the sons of Abraham will\nstill remember thee with respect.\"\n\nNo humility, no cringing gratitude in this.  Queen Hatasu, talking with\nher favorite general, could not have commended him in a more queenly\nway.\n\nTo Kenkenes it seemed that their positions had been reversed.  He\ncraved to serve them and they suffered him.\n\n\"I shall go then to-night,\" he said simply.\n\n\"Nay, bide with us to-night, for thou art weary.  There is no need for\nsuch haste.\"\n\nHe opened his lips to protest, his objections manifesting themselves in\nhis manner.  But she waved them aside.\n\n\"Thou hast the marks of hard usage upon thee,\" she said; \"thou hast\nslaved for us since midday, and now the night is far spent.  Thine eyes\nare heavy for sleep, thy face is weary.  And before thee is a task\nwhich will require thy keenest wit, thy steadiest hand.  Thou owest it\nto Rachel and to thyself to go forth with the eye of a hawk and the\nstrength of a young lion.\"\n\nBecause of Rachel's name in her argument he yielded and turned\nimmediately to the subject of their lonesome residence in the haunted\ntomb.  \"If aught befall me,\" he said, \"for I am in the unknowable hands\nof the Hathors, disguise thyself and Rachel.  If thou art skilled in\naltering thou canst find pigment among the roots of the Nile.  Dye her\nhair and stain her face, take the boat and go to my father's house in\nMemphis.  He is Mentu, the murket to the Pharaoh--a patriot and a\nfriend to the kings.  He knows not the Hebrew, but he is generous,\nhospitable and kind to the oppressed of whatever blood.  Tell him\nRachel's trouble and of me.  I am his only child, and my name on thy\nlips will win thee the best of his board, the shelter of his roof, the\nprotection of his right arm.  Wait for me, however, in this place till\na month hath elapsed.\n\n\"Keep the amphorae filled with water, fresh every day, and preserve a\nstock of food within the tomb always to stand you in good stead if\nRachel's enemy discover her hiding-place and besiege it.\"\n\nHis eyes ignited and his face grew white.\n\n\"Starve within this cave,\" he went on intensely, approaching her, \"but\ndeliver her not into his hands, I charge thee, for the welfare of thy\nimmortal soul.  If thou art beset and there is no escape, before she\nshall live for the despoiler--take her life!\"\n\nDeborah scanned him narrowly, and when he made an end she opened her\nlips as though to speak.  But something deterred her, and she moved\naway from him.\n\n\"Come, spread the matting, Rachel,\" she said.  \"The master will stay\nwith us to-night.\"\n\nObediently the girl came, still white of face, but composed.  She made\na pallet of one roll of the matting, generously sprinkled the floor\nabout it with oil to keep away the insects, put the lamp behind the\namphora rack, hung her scarf over the frame that the light might not\nshine in her guest's eyes, and set the door a little aside to let the\ncool night air enter from the river.  Having completed her service, she\nbade him a soft good-night and disappeared into the inner crypt, where\nDeborah had gone before her.\n\nKenkenes immediately flung himself upon the pallet because Rachel's\nhands had made it, and in a moment became acutely conscious of all the\nache of body and the pain of soul the day had brought him.  The first\ndeprived him of comfort, the second of his peace, and there was the\nsmell of dawn on the breeze before he fell asleep.\n\nAfter sunset the next day Deborah roused him.  He awoke restored in\nstrength and hungry.  The old Israelite had prepared some of the\ngazelle-meat for him, and this, with a draft of wine from an amphora,\nrefreshed him at once.  Provisions had been put in his wallet, and a\ndouble handful of golden rings, with several jewels, much treasure in\nsmall bulk, had been wrapped in a strip of linen and was ready for him.\nBy the time all preparations were complete the night had come.\n\nHe bade Deborah farewell and took Rachel's hand.  It was cold and\ntrembled pitifully.  Without a word he pressed it and gave it back.  He\nhad reached the entrance, when it seemed that a suppressed sound smote\non his ears, and he stopped.  Deborah, her face grown stern and hard,\nhad moved a step or two forward and stood regarding Rachel sharply.\nNeither saw her.\n\n\"Did you speak, Rachel?\" Kenkenes asked.  He fancied that her arms had\nfallen quickly as he turned.\n\n\"Nay, except to bid thee take care of thyself, Kenkenes,\" she faltered,\n\"more for thine own sake than for mine.\"\n\nHe returned and, on his knee, pressed her hand to his lips.\n\n\"God's face light thee and His peace attend thee,\" she continued.  The\nblessing was full of wondrous tenderness and music.  He knew how her\nface looked above him; how the free hand all but rested on his head,\nand for a moment his fortitude seemed about to desert him.  But she\nwhispered:\n\n\"Farewell.\"\n\nAnd he arose and went forth.\n\n\n\n[1] The tombs of the Orient in ancient times were common places of\nrefuge for fugitives, lepers and outcasts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nON THE WAY TO THEBES\n\nThe moon was ampler and its light stronger.  The Nile was a vast and\nfaintly silvered expanse, roughened with countless ripples blown\nopposite the direction of the current.  The north wind had risen and\nswept through the crevice between the hills with more than usual\nstrength, adding its reedy music to the sound of the swiftly flowing\nwaters.\n\nAfter launching his bari, Kenkenes gazed a moment, and then, with a\nprayer to Ptah for aid, struck out for the south, rowing with powerful\nstrokes.\n\nAt the western shore lighted barges swayed at their moorings or\njourneyed slowly, but the Nile was wide, and the craft, blinded by\ntheir own brilliance, had no thought of what might be hugging the\nArabian shore.  Yet Kenkenes, with the inordinate apprehension of the\nfugitive, lurked in the shadows, dashed across open spaces and imagined\nin every drifting, drowsy fisher's raft a pursuing party.  He prayed\nfor the well-remembered end of the white dike, where the Nile curved\nabout the southernmost limits of the capital.  The day had not yet\nbroken when he passed the last flambeau burning at the juncture of the\ndike with the city wall.  He rowed on steadily for Memphis, and\nimmediate danger was at last behind him.\n\nThe towers of the city had sunk below the northern horizon when,\nopposite a poor little shrine for cowherds on the shore, a brazen gong\nsounded musically for the sunrise prayers.  The Libyan hilltops were,\nat that instant, illuminated by the sun, and Kenkenes, in obedience to\nlifelong training, rested his oars and bent his head.  When he pulled\non again he did not realize that he had been, with the stubbornness of\nhabit, maintaining the breach between him and Rachel.  There was no\nthought in his mind to give over his faith.\n\nAt noon, weary with heat, hunger and heavy labor, he drew up at\nHak-heb, on the western side of the Nile, fifty miles above Memphis.\nThe town was the commercial center for the pastoral districts of the\nposterior Arsinoeite nome--Nehapehu.  Here were brought for shipment\nthe wine, wheat and cattle of the fertile pocket in the Libyan desert.\nBeing at a season of commercial inactivity, when the farmers were\nawaiting the harvest, the sunburnt wharves were almost deserted.\n\nFew saw Kenkenes arrive.  Most of the inhabitants were taking the\nmidday rest, and every moored boat was manned by a sleeping crew.  He\nmade a landing and went up through the sand and dust of the hot street\nto the only inn.  Here he ate and slept till night had come again.\nRefreshed and invigorated, he continued his journey.  At noon the next\nday he stopped to sleep at another town and to buy a lamp, materials\nfor making fire, ropes and a plummet of bronze sufficiently heavy to\nanchor his boat.  He was entering a long stretch of distance wherein\nthere was no inhabited town, and he was making ready to sleep in the\nbari.  Then he began to travel by day, for he was too far from Memphis\nto fear pursuit, and rest in an open boat under a blazing sun would be\nimpossible.\n\nThe third evening he paused opposite a ruined city on the eastern bank\nof the Nile.  Hunters not infrequently went inland at this point for\nlarge game, and although the place was in a state of partial\ndemolishment, Kenkenes hoped that there might be an inn.  He tied his\nboat to a stake and entered Khu-aten,[1] the destroyed capital of\nAmenophis IV, self-styled Khu-n-Aten.\n\nHere under a noble king, who loved beauty and had it not, the barbarous\nrites of the Egyptian religion were overthrown and sensuous and\nesthetic ceremonies were established and made obligatory all over the\nkingdom.  In his blind groping after the One God, the king had directed\nworship to the most fitting symbol of Him--the sun.\n\nHe appeased the luminous divinity by offerings of flowers, regaled it\nwith simmerings from censers, besought it with the tremulous harp and\nhad it pictured with grace and vested with charm.  And since the power\nof the national faith was all-permeating, its reconstruction was\nfar-reaching in effect.  Egypt was swept into a tremendous and\nbeautiful heresy by a homely king, whose word was law.\n\nBut at his death the reaction was vast and vindictive.  The orthodox\nfaith reasserted itself with a violence that carried every monument to\nthe apostasy and the very name of the apostate into dust.  Now the\nremaining houses of Khu-ayen were the homes of the fishers--its ruins\nthe habitation of criminals and refugees.\n\nThe hand of the insulted zealot, of the envious successor, of the\ninvader and conqueror, had done what the reluctant hand of nature might\nnot have accomplished in a millennium.  The ruins showed themselves,\nstretching afar toward and across the eastern sky, in ragged and\nindefinable lines.  The oblique rays of the newly risen moon slanted a\nlight that was weird and ghostly because it fell across a ruin.\nKenkenes climbed over a chaos of prostrate columns, fallen architraves\nand broken colossi, and the sounds of his advance stirred the rat, the\nhuge spider, the snake and the hiding beast from the dark debris.  Here\nand there were solitary walls standing out of heaps of wreckage, which\nhad been palaces, and frequent arid open spaces marked the site of\ngroves.  In complex ramifications throughout the city sandy troughs\nwere still distinguishable, where canals had been, and in places of\npeculiarly complete destruction the strips of uneven pavement showed\nthe location of temples.\n\nThere was not a house at which Kenkenes dared to ask hospitality.\nThose that lived so precariously would have little conscience about\nstripping him of his possessions.\n\nHe retraced his steps to the wharves and drew away, prepared to spend\nthe night in his boat.\n\nAfter leaving Khu-aten, the Nile wound through wild country, the hills\napproaching its course so closely as to suggest the confines of a\ngorge.  The narrow strip of level land on the eastern side lay under a\nreceding shadow cast by the hills, but the river and the western shore\nwere in the broad brilliance of the moon.  The night promised to be one\nof exceeding brightness and Kenkenes shared the resulting wakefulness\nof the wild life on land.\n\nThe half of his up-journey was done and the conflict of hope and doubt\nmarshaled feasible argument for and against the success of his mission.\nIn some manner the destruction of Khu-aten offered, in its example of\nEgypt's fury against progress, a parallel to his own straits.\n\nIn his boyhood he had heard the Pharaoh Khu-n-Aten anathematized by the\nshaven priests, and in the depths of his heart he had been startled to\nfind no sympathy for their rage against the artist-king.\n\nRitual-bound Egypt had resented liberty of worship--a liberalism that\nlacked naught in zeal or piety, but added grace to the Osirian faith.\nIn his beauty-worship, Kenkenes was not narrow.  He would not confine\nit to glyptic art, nor indeed to art alone--all the uses of life might\nbe bettered by it.  His appreciation of Khu-n-Aten's ambition had been\npassive before, but when his own spirit experienced the same fire and\nthe same reproach, his sympathy became hearty partizanship.\n\nHis mind wandered back again to the ruin.  How fiercely Egypt had\nresented the schism of a Pharaoh, a demi-god, the Vicar of Osiris!  The\nwords of Rachel came back to him like an inspiration:\n\n\"Thou hast nation-wide, nation-old, nation-defended prejudice to\novercome, and thou art but one, Kenkenes.\"\n\nBut one, indeed, and only a nobleman.  Could he hope to change Egypt\nwhen a king might not?  Behold, how he was suffering for a single and\nsimple breach of the law.  At the thought he paused and asked himself:\n\n\"Am I suffering for the sacrilege?\"\n\nThe admission would entail a terrifying complexity.\n\nIf he were suffering punishment for the statue, what punishment had\nbeen his for the sacrilegious execution of the Judgment of the Dead in\nthe tomb of Rameses II?  What, other than the reclamation of the signet\nby the Incomparable Pharaoh, even as Mentu had said?  If the hypothesis\nheld, he had committed sacrilege, he had offended the gods, and might\nnot the accumulated penalty be--O unspeakable--the loss of Rachel?\n\nOn the other hand, if the signet were still in the tomb, Rameses had\nnot reclaimed it--Rameses had not been offended.  The ritual condemned\nhis act, but if Rameses in the realm of inexorable justice and supernal\nwisdom did not, how should he reconcile the threats of the ritual and\nthe evident passiveness of the royal soul?  If he found the signet and\nachieved his ends, aside from its civil power over him, what weight\nwould the canonical thunderings have to his inner heart?\n\nOnce again he paused.  The deductions of his free reasoning led him\nupon perilous ground.  They made innuendoes concerning the stability of\nthe other articles of hieratical law.  He was startled and afraid of\nhis own arguments.\n\n\"Nay, by the gods,\" he muttered to himself, \"it is not safe to reason\nwith religion.\"\n\nBut every stroke of his oar was active persistence in his heresy.\n\nHe believed he should find the signet.\n\nThereafter he could turn a deaf ear to any renegade ideas such an event\nmight suggest.\n\nIt was an unlucky chance that befell the theological institutions of\nEgypt as far as this devotee was concerned, that Kenkenes had landed at\nthe capital of the hated Pharaoh.\n\nBut he shook himself and tried to fix his attention on the night.  The\nstars were few--the multitude obliterated by the moon, the luminaries\nabashed thereby.  The light fell through a high haze of dust and was\ntherefore wondrously refracted and diffused.  The hills made high\nlifted horizons, undulating toward the east, serrated toward the west.\nIn the sag between there was no human companionship abroad.\n\nThroughout great lengths of shore-line the tuneless stridulation of\nfrogs, the guttural cries of water-birds and the general movement in\nthe sedge indicated a serene content among small life.  But sometimes\nhe would find silence on one bank for a goodly stretch where there was\nneither marsh-chorus nor cadences of insects.  The hush would be\nprofound and an affrighted air of suspense was apparent.  And there at\nthe river-brink the author of this breathless dismay, some lithe\nflesh-eater, would stride, shadow-like, through the high reeds to\ndrink.  Now and then the woman-like scream of the wildcat, or the harsh\nstaccato laugh of the hyena would startle the marshes into silence.\nSometimes retiring shapes would halt and gaze with emberous eyes at the\nboat moving in midstream.\n\nKenkenes admitted with a grim smile that the great powers of the world\nand the wild were against him.  But Rachel's face came to him as\ncomfort--the memory of it when it was tender and yielding--and with a\nlover's buoyancy he forgot his sorrows in remembering that she loved\nhim.  He dropped the anchor and, lying down in the bottom of his boat,\ndreamed happily into the dawn.\n\nDuring the day he landed for supplies at a miserable town of\npottery-makers, leaving his boat at the crazy wharves.\n\nWhen he returned the bari was gone.  A negro, the only one near the\nriver who was awake, told him that a dhow, laden with clay, in making a\nlanding had struck the bari, staved in its side, upset it and sent it\nadrift.\n\nThe mischance did not trouble Kenkenes.\n\nAfter some effort he aroused a crew of oarsmen, procured a boat, and\ncontinued at once to Thebes.\n\n\n\n[1] Khu-aten--Tel-el-Amarna.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE FAN-BEARER'S QUEST\n\nAt sunset on the day after the festivities at the Lady Senci's, Hotep\ndeserted his palace duties and came to the house of Mentu.  He had in\nmind to try again to persuade his friend from his folly, for the scribe\nwas certain that Kenkenes was once more returning to his sacrilege and\nthe Israelite.\n\nThe old housekeeper informed him that the young master was not at home,\nthough he was expected even now.\n\nHotep waited in the house of his aunt, neighbor to the murket, and\nabout the middle of the first watch asked again for Kenkenes.\n\nNay, the young master had not returned.  But would not the noble Hotep\nenter and await him?\n\nThe scribe, however, returned to the palace, and put off his visit\nuntil the next day.\n\nThe following noon a page brought him a message from his aunt, the Lady\nSenci.  It was short and distressed.\n\n\"Kenkenes has not returned, Hotep, and since he is known to have gone\nupon the Nile, we fear that disaster has overtaken him.  Come and help\nthe unhappy murket.  His household is so dismayed that it is useless.\nCome, and come quickly.\"\n\nThe probability of the young artist's death in the Nile immediately\ntook second place in the scribe's mind.  Kenkenes had displayed to\nHotep the effect of Rameses' savage boast to exterminate the Hebrews.\nIt was that incident which had convinced the scribe that the Arabian\nhills would claim the artist on the morrow.  He had not stopped to\nsurmise the extremes to which Kenkenes would go, but his mysterious\ndisappearance seemed to suggest that the lover had gone to the\nIsraelitish camp to remain.\n\nHe made ready and repaired to the house of the murket.  Mentu met him\nin the chamber of guests.  By the dress of the great artist it would\nseem that he had returned at that moment from the streets.\n\nHotep sat down beside him, and with tact and well-chosen words told his\nstory and summarized his narration with a mild statement of his\nsuspicions.\n\nThere was no outbreak on the part of Mentu.  But his broad chest heaved\nonce, as though it had thrown off a great weight.\n\n\"But Kenkenes has been a dutiful son,\" he said after a silence, \"I can\nnot think he would use me so cruelly--no word of his intent or his\nwhereabouts.\"\n\nThe objection was plausible.\n\n\"Then, let us go to Masaarah and discover of a surety,\" the scribe\nsuggested.\n\nWhen Atsu emerged from the mouth of the little valley into the quarries\nsome time after the midday meal, he was confronted by the murket and\nthe royal scribe.  Neither of the men was unknown to him.\n\nHotep halted him.\n\n\"Was there a guest with the fair-haired Israelite maiden last night?\"\nthe scribe asked.\n\nAtsu's face, pinched and darker than usual, blazed wrathfully.\n\n\"Have ye also joined yourselves with Har-hat to run that hard-pressed\nchild to earth?\" he exclaimed.  \"Do ye call yourselves men?\"\n\n\"The gods forbid!\" Hotep protested.  \"We do not concern ourselves with\nthe maiden.  It is the man who may be with her that we seek.\"\n\nThe taskmaster made an angry gesture, and Hotep interrupted again.\n\n\"I do not question her decorum, and the man of whom I speak is of\nspotless character.  He is lost and we seek him.\"\n\n\"I can not help you; my wits are taxed in another search.\"\n\nHotep's face showed light at the taskmaster's words.\n\n\"Is she also gone?\" he asked mildly.  \"Then let me give you my word,\nthat the discovery of one will also find the other.\"\n\nAtsu gazed with growing hope at the scribe.\n\n\"How is he favored?\" he asked at last.\n\n\"He is tall, half a palm taller than his fellows; comely of\ncountenance; young; in manner, amiable and courteous--.\"\n\nAtsu interrupted him with a wave of his hand.  \"I saw him once--good\nthree months agone, but not since.\"\n\nThe reply baffled Hotep for a moment.  He realized that to find\nKenkenes he must begin a search for Rachel.\n\n\"Good Atsu, he whom we seek is a friend to the maiden.  He is much\nbeloved by me--by us.  Whomsoever he befriendeth we shall befriend.\nWilt thou tell us when and from whom the maiden fled?\"\n\nAtsu had become willing by this time.  This amiable young noble might\nbe able to lift the suspense that burdened his unhappy heart.\n\n\"Har-hat--Set make a cinder of his heart!--asked her at the hands of\nthe Pharaoh for his harem--\"\n\nMentu interrupted him with a growling imprecation and Hotep's fair face\ndarkened.\n\n\"Yesterday morning he sent three men to me,\" the taskmaster continued,\n\"with the document of gift from the Son of Ptah, but she saw them in\ntime and fled into the desert.  At that hour there were only women in\nthe camp, and the three men made short work of me when I would have\nheld them till she escaped.  In three hours, two of them returned--one,\nsick from hard usage, and the third, they said, had been pitched over\nthe cliff-front into the valley of the Nile.  They had not captured her\nand they were too much enraged to explain why they had not.  During\ntheir absence I emptied the quarries of Israelites and posted them\nalong the Nile to halt the Egyptians, if they came to the river with\nRachel.  But we let them return to Memphis empty-handed, and thereafter\nsearched the hills till sunset.  The maiden's foster-mother, it seems,\nfled with her, but neither of them, nor any trace of them, was to be\nfound.\"\n\n\"Does it not appear to thee,\" Hotep asked, after a little silence,\n\"that the same hand which so forcibly persuaded the Egyptians to\nabandon the pursuit may have led the maiden to a place of safety?  My\nsurmises have been right in general, O noble Mentu, but not in detail,\"\nhe continued, turning to the murket.  \"There is, however, the element\nof danger now to take the place of the gracelessness we would have laid\nto him.  Thou knowest Har-hat, my Lord.\"\n\nHe thanked the dark-faced taskmaster.  \"Have no concern for the maiden.\nShe is safe, I doubt not.\"\n\nHe took Mentu's arm and passing up through the Israelitish camp,\nclimbed the slope behind it.\n\n\"It is my duty and thine to hide this lovely folly up here, ere these\nsearching minions of Har-hat or frantic Israelites come upon it.\"\n\nThe scribe's sense of direction and location was keen.  It was one of\nthe goodly endowments of the savage and the beast which the gods had\nadded to the powers of this man of splendid intellect.  He doubled back\nthrough the great rocks, his steps a little rapid and never hesitating,\nas though his destination were in full view.  Mentu followed him,\nsilent and moodily thoughtful.  At last Hotep stopped.\n\nBefore them was a narrow aisle leading down from the summit of the\nhill.  It was hemmed in on each side by tumbled masses of stone.  The\naisle terminated at its lower end in a long white drift of sand against\na great cube.  Instinct and reason told Hotep that here had been the\nhiding-place of Athor, but there was no sign that human foot had ever\nentered the spot.  After a space of puzzlement, Hotep smiled.\n\n\"He hath made way with the sacrilege himself,\" he said with relief in\nhis voice; \"I had not credited him with so much foresight.  Nay, now,\nif the runaway will but come home, we will forgive him.\"\n\nMentu said nothing.  Indeed, since Hotep had told him of the recent\ndoings of Kenkenes, the murket had had little to say.  He had felt in\nhis lifetime most of the sorrows that can overtake a man of his\nposition and attainments--but he had never known the chagrin of a\nwayward child.  The fear that he was to know that humiliation, now,\nmade his heart heavy beyond words.\n\nAs they turned away the sound of voices smote upon their ears.\n\n\"Near this spot, it must be, my Lord,\" one said.\n\n\"Find the sacrilege, lout.  We seek not the neighborhood of it.\"\n\nHotep caught the murket's arm and drew him out of the aisle into hiding\nbehind another great stone.\n\n\"This is the place; this is the place,\" the first voice declared, and\nhis statement was seconded by another and as positive a voice.\n\nThere was the sound of the new-comers emerging into the aisle, and\nimmediately the first speaker exclaimed in a tone full of astonishment\nand disappointment:\n\n\"O, aye; I see!\" the master assented with an irritating laugh.\n\n\"Har-hat!\" Hotep whispered.\n\nAnother of the party broke in impatiently: \"Make an end to this chase.\nSaw you any sacrilege, or was it a phantom of your stupid dreams?\"\n\n\"Asar-Mut,\" Mentu said under his breath.\n\nThe first voice and its second protested in chorus.\n\n\"As the gods hear me, I saw it!\" the first went on.  \"It was a statue\nmost sacrilegiously wrought and the man stood before it.  It was\ncunningly hidden between two walls, and there is no spot on the desert\nthat looks so much like the place as this.  And yet, no wall--no\nstatue--no sign of--\"\n\n\"How did you find it yesterday?\" the fan-bearer asked.\n\n\"We followed the hag, and she, the girl.  The pair of them were in\nsight of each other, as they ran.\"\n\n\"How did they find it?\"\n\n\"Magic!  Magic!\"\n\n\"There were three of you and one man overthrew you all?\" the high\npriest commented suspiciously.\n\n\"Holy Father!\" the servant protested wildly, \"he was a giant--a monster\nfor bigness.  Besides, there were but two of us, after he had all but\nthrottled me.\"\n\nHar-hat laughed again.  \"Aye, and after he pitched Nak over the cliff,\nthere was but one.  But tell me this: was he noble or a churl?\"\n\n\"He wore the circlet.\"\n\nMentu's long fingers bent as if he longed for a throat between them.\n\n\"The craven invented his giant to salve his valor,\" the priest said.\n\n\"It may be,\" the fan-bearer replied musingly, \"but thy nephew, holy\nFather, is conspicuously tall and well-muscled.  Likewise, he is a\nsculptor.  Furthermore, the two slaves came home badly abused.  Unas\nhas some proof for his tale--\"\n\n\"Kenkenes is the soul of fidelity,\" the high priest retorted warmly.\n\"He has had unnumbered opportunities to betray the gods and he has ever\nbeen steadfast.\"\n\n\"Nay, I did not impugn him.  The similarity merely appealed to me.  Let\nus get down into the valley and question that villain Atsu.  I would\nknow what became of the girl.\"\n\n\"Mine interests are solely with the ecclesiastical features of the\noffense, my Lord,\" Asar-Mut replied.  \"I would get back to Memphis.\"\n\n\"Bear us company a little longer, holy Father.  The taskmaster may tell\nus somewhat of this blaspheming sculptor-giant.\"\n\nWhen the last sound of the departing men died away, Mentu turned across\nthe hill toward the Nile-front of the cliff.\n\n\"Nay, I will go back to Memphis first,\" he said grimly.  \"Mayhap\nKenkenes hath returned.  If Asar-Mut should question him, he would not\nevade nor equivocate, so I shall send him away that he may not meet his\nuncle.  I would not have him lie, but he shall not accomplish his own\nundoing.\"\n\nBut days of seeking followed, growing frantic as time went on, and\nthere was no trace of the lost artist.  Even his pet ape did not\nreturn.  Asar-Mut questioned Mentu closely concerning the fidelity of\nKenkenes to the faith and the ritual.\n\n\"I ask after his soul,\" he explained.  But he gained no evidence from\nMentu.\n\nOn the fourteenth day after the disappearance of the young sculptor,\nSepet, the boatman that had hired his bari to Kenkenes, found the boat\namong the wharf piling.  It was overturned, its bottom ripped out, one\nside crushed as if a river-horse had played with it.  In the small\ncompartment at the tiller were provisions for a light lunch; a wallet,\nempty; a rope and a plummet of bronze used to moor a boat in midstream\nwhile the sportsman fished; the light woolen mantle worn as often for\nprotection against the sun as against the cold, and other things to\nprove that Kenkenes had met with disaster.\n\nThe fate of the young man seemed to be explained.  The great house of\nMentu was darkened; the servants went unkempt and the artist wore a\nblue scarf knotted about his hips.  The high priest dismissed the\nsubject of the sacrilege from his mind, now that his nephew was dead.\nThe people of Memphis who knew Kenkenes mourned with Mentu; the\nfestivities were dull without him, and there were some, like Io and the\nLady Senci, who went into retirement and were not to be comforted.\n\nBut Har-hat presented jeweled housings to Apis for the prospering of\nhis search after Rachel, and set about assisting the god with all his\nmight.  He sent couriers, armed with a description and warrant for the\narrest of Kenkenes and the Israelite, into all the large cities of\nEgypt.  He ransacked Pa-Ramesu and the brick-fields, Silsilis, Syene,\nwhere there were quarries, and especially Thebes, which was large and\nremote, a tempting place for fugitives.\n\nWhen he heard the news of the young sculptor's death, he actually sent\na message of condolence to Mentu, much to the tearful and unspeakable\nrage of the heart-broken murket.  Yet, with all the limitless resources\nplaced at the command of a bearer of the king's fan, Har-hat continued\nto search for the young artist, until word came to him from Thebes\nseveral days later.\n\nHis next move was to bring to the notice of the Pharaoh that the\ntaskmaster Atsu was pampering the Israelites of Masaarah and defeating\nthe ends of the government.  Furthermore, the overseer had treated with\ncontempt the personal commands of the fan-bearer.  So Atsu was removed\nentirely from over the Hebrews, reduced to the rank of a common\nsoldier, and returned to the nome from which he came, in the coif and\ntunic of a cavalryman.\n\nThus it was that Har-hat avenged himself for the loss of Rachel, put\nall aid out of her reach, and kept up an unceasing pursuit of her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE TOMB OF THE PHARAOH\n\nIt was far into the tenth night that Kenkenes arrived in Thebes.  On\nthe sixteenth day Rachel would begin to expect him, and he could not\nhope to reach Memphis by that time.  She should not wait an hour longer\nthan necessary.  He would get the signet that night and return by the\nswiftest boat obtainable in Thebes.  The dawn should find him on the\nway to Memphis.\n\nHe entered the streets of the Libyan suburb of the holy city, and\npassed through it to the scattering houses, set outside the\nthickly-settled portion, and nearer to the necropolis.  At the portals\nof the most pretentious of these houses he knocked and was admitted.\n\nHe was met presently in the chamber of guests by an old man,\ngray-haired and bent.  This was the keeper of the tomb of Rameses the\nGreat.\n\n\"I am the son of Mentu,\" he said, \"thy friend, and the friend of the\nIncomparable Pharaoh.  Perchance thou dost remember me.\"\n\n\"I remember Mentu,\" the old man replied, after a space that might have\nbeen spent in rumination, or in collecting his faculties to speak.\n\n\"He decorated the tomb of Rameses,\" the young man continued.\n\n\"Aye, I remember.  I watched him often at the work.\"\n\n\"Thou knowest how the great king loved him.\"\n\nThe old man bent his head in assent.\n\n\"He was given a signet by Rameses, and on the jewel was testimony of\nroyal favor which should outlive the Pharaoh and Mentu himself.\"\n\n\"Even so.  A precious talisman, and a rare one.\"\n\n\"It was lost.\"\n\n\"Nay!  Lost!  Alas, that is losing the favor of Osiris.  What a\ncalamity!\"  The old man shook his head and his gray brows knitted.\n\n\"But the place in which it was lost is small, and I would search for it\nagain.\"\n\n\"That is wise.  The gods aid them who surrender not.\"\n\nBy this time the old man's face had become inquiring.\n\n\"There is need for the signet now--\"\n\n\"The noble Mentu, in trouble?\" the old man queried.\n\n\"The son of the noble Mentu is in trouble--the purity of an innocent\none at stake, and the foiling of a villain to accomplish,\" Kenkenes\nanswered earnestly.\n\n\"A sore need.  Is it--  Wouldst thou have me aid thee?\"\n\n\"Thou hast said.  I come to thee to crave thy permission to search\nagain for the signet.\"\n\n\"Nay, but I give it freely.  Yet I do not understand.\"\n\n\"The signet was lost in the tomb of the Incomparable Pharaoh.  May I\nnot visit the crypt?\"\n\nThe old man thought a moment.  \"Aye, thou canst search.  If thou wilt\ncome for me to-morrow--\"\n\n\"Nay, I would go this very night.\"\n\nThe keeper's face sobered and he shook his head.\n\n\"Deny me not, I pray thee,\" Kenkenes entreated earnestly.  \"Thou, who\nhast lived so many years, hast at some time weighed the value of a\nsingle moment.  In the waste or use of the scant space between two\nbreaths have lives been lost, souls smirched, the unlimited history of\nthe future turned.  And never was a greater stake upon the saving of\ntime than in this strait--which is the peril of spotless womanhood.\"\n\nThe old man rubbed his head.  \"Aye, I know, I know.  Thy haste is\njustifiable, but--\"\n\n\"I can go alone.  There is no need that thou shouldst waste an hour of\nthy needed sleep for me.  I pledge thee I shall conduct myself without\nthee as I should beneath thine eye.  Most reverently will I enter, most\nreverently search, most reverently depart, and none need ever know I\nwent alone.\"\n\nThe ancient keeper weakened at the earnestness of the young man.\n\n\"And thou wilt permit no eye to see thee enter or come forth from the\nvalley?\"\n\n\"Most cautious will I be--most secret and discreet.\"\n\n\"Canst thou open the gates?\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten from the daily practice that was mine for many\nweeks.\"\n\n\"Then go, and let no man know of this.  Amen give thee success.\"\n\nKenkenes thanked him gratefully and went at once.\n\nThe moon was in its third quarter, but it was near midnight and the\nvalley of the Nile between the distant highlands to the east and west\nwas in soft light.  On the eastern side of the river there was only a\nfeeble glimmer from a window where some chanting leech stood by a\nbedside, or where a feast was still on.  But under the luster of the\nwaning moon Thebes lost its outlines and became a city of marbles and\nshadows and undefined limits.\n\nOn the western side the vision was interrupted by a lofty,\nsharp-toothed range, tipped with a few scattered stars of the first\nmagnitude.  In the plain at its base were the palaces of Amenophis III,\nof Rameses II, and their temples, the temples of the Tothmes, and far\nto the south the majestic colossi of Amenophis III towered up through\nthe silver light, the faces, in their own shadow, turned in eternal\ncontemplation of the sunrise.  Grouped about the great edifices were\nthe booths of funeral stuffs and the stalls of caterers to the populace\nof the Libyan suburb of Thebes.  But these were hidden in the dark\nshadows which the great structures threw.  The moon blotted out the\nprofane things of the holy city and discovered only its splendors to\nthe sky.\n\nAt the northwest limits of the suburb, the hills approached the Nile,\nleaving only a narrow strip a few hundred yards wide between their\nfronts and the water.  Here the steep ramparts were divided by a\ntortuous cleft, which wound back with many cross-fissures deep into the\ndesert.  The ravine was simply a chasm, with perpendicular sides of\nnaked rock.\n\nAt its upper end, it was blocked by a wall of unscalable heights.\nNowhere in its length was it wider than a hundred yards, and across the\nmouth a gateway wide enough for three chariots abreast had been built\nof red granite.\n\nThis was the valley of the Tombs of the Kings.\n\nIn chambers hewn in solid rock, the monarchs of the eighteenth and\nnineteenth dynasties were entombed.  All along the walls of the gorge,\nnature had secured the sacred resting-place of the sovereigns against\ntrespass from the end and sides of the chasm, and Egypt had dutifully\nstrengthened the one weak point in the fortification--the entrance--by\nthe gateway of granite.  But there was no vigilance of guards.\nWhosoever knew how to open the gates might enter the valley.  The\nsecret of the bolts was known only among the members of the royal\nfamily and the court.  To Kenkenes, whose craft as a sculptor had\ntaught him the intricate devices used in closing tombs, the opening of\nthese gates was simple.  Even the mighty portals of Khufu and Menka-ra\nwould yield responsive to his intelligent touch.\n\nHe let himself into the valley and, closing the valves behind him, went\nup the tortuous gorge, darkened by the shadows of its walls.  He\ncontinued past the mouth of the valley's southern arm wherein were\nentombed the kings of the eighteenth dynasty.  Here, in this open\nspace, he could see the circling bats, which before he could only hear\nabove his head.  Somewhere among the rocks up the moonlit hollow an owl\nhooted.  But the tombs he sought were in the upper end of the main\nravine.\n\nHere lay Rameses I, the founder of that illustrious dynasty--the\nnineteenth.  Near-by was his son, Seti I, and next to him the splendid\ntyrant, Rameses the Great, the Incomparable Pharaoh.\n\nBy the time Kenkenes had reached the spot, all lightness in his heart\nhad gone out like the extinguishing of a candle, and the weight of\nsuspense, the fear of failure, fell on him as suddenly.  He approached\nthe elaborate facade of the solemn portals, climbed the pairs of steps,\nand paused at each of the many landings with a prayer for the success\nof his mission, not for the repose of the royal soul, after the custom\nof other visitors.  With trembling hands he pushed the doors, rough\nwith inscriptions, and the great stone valves swung ponderously inward,\nthe bronze pins making no sound as they turned in the sockets.\nKenkenes entered and closed the portals behind him.\n\nInstantly all sound of the outside world was cut off--the sound of the\nwind, the chafing of the sands on the hills above, the movement and\ncries of night-birds, beasts and insects.  Absolute stillness and\noriginal night surrounded him.\n\nWith all speed he lighted his lamp, but the flaring name illuminated\nonly a little space in the brooding, hovering blackness about him.\n\nThe atmosphere was stagnant and heavily burdened with old aromatic\nscent, and the silence seemed to have accumulated in the years.  Even\nthe soft whetting of his sandal, as he walked, made echoes that shouted\nat him.  The little blaze fizzed and sputtered noisily and each throb\nof his heart sounded like a knock on the portal.\n\nHe did not pause.  The darkness might cloud and tinge and swallow up\nhis light as turbid water absorbs the clear; the silence might resent\nthe violation.  This was the habitation of a royal soul in perpetual\nvigil over its corpse and vested with all the powers and austere\npropensities of a thing supernatural.  But not once did the impulse\ncome to him to fly.  Rachel's face attended him like a lamp.\n\nHe moved forward, his path only discovered to him step by step as the\nlight advanced, the sumptuous frescoes done by the hand of his father\nemerging, one detail at a time.  The solemn figures fixed accusing eyes\nupon him from every frieze; the passive countenance of the monarch\nhimself confronted him from every wall.  One wondrous chamber after\nanother he traversed, for the tomb penetrated the very core of the\nmountain.\n\nThe innermost crypt contained the altars.  This was the sanctuary, the\nholy of holies, never entered except by a hierarch.\n\nWhen Kenkenes reached the final threshold he paused.  Thus far, his\npresence had been merely a midnight intrusion.  If he entered the\nsanctuary his coming would be violation.  He thought of the distress of\nRachel and dared.\n\nThe first alabaster altar glistened suddenly out of the night like a\nbank of snow.  Kenkenes' sandal grated on the sandy dust that lay thick\non the floor.  Not even the keeper had entered this crypt to remove the\naccumulated dust of six years.\n\nUnder this floor of solid granite was the pit containing the sarcophagi\nof the dead monarch, of his favorite son and destined heir, Shaemus,\nand his well-beloved queen, Neferari Thermuthis.  The opening into the\npit had been sealed when Rameses had descended to emerge no more.  The\nchamber over it was brilliant with frescoing and covered with\ninscriptions.  There were three magnificent altars of alabaster and\nover each was an oval containing the name of one of the three sleepers\nin the pit below.\n\nIn this chapel the signet had been lost.\n\nKenkenes set his light on the floor and began his search.  The first\ntime he searched the floor, he laid the lack of success to his excited\nwork.  The second time, the perspiration began to trickle down his\ntemples.  Thereafter he sought, lengthwise and crosswise, calling on\nthe gods for aid, but there was no glint of the jewel.\n\nAt last, sick with despair, he sat down to collect himself.  Suddenly\nacross the heavy silence there smote a sound.  In a place closer to the\nbeating heart of the world, the movement might have escaped him.  Now,\nthough it was but the rustle of sweeping robes, it seemed to sough like\nthe wind among the clashing blades of palm-leaves.\n\nFor a moment Kenkenes sat, transfixed, and in that moment the sound\ncame nearer.  He remembered the injunction of the old keeper.  Human or\nsupernatural, the new-comer must not find him there.  He leaped behind\nthe altar of Shaemus, extinguishing the light as he did so.  He flung\nthe corner of his kamis over the reeking wick that the odor might not\nescape, but his fear in that direction was materially lessened when he\nsaw that the stranger bore a fuming torch.\n\nOn one end of the short pole of the torch was a knot of flaming pitch,\non the other was a bronze ring fitted with sprawling claws.  The\nstranger set the light on the floor and the device kept the torch\nupright.  He crossed the room and stood at the altar of Neferari\nThermuthis.\n\nBy the deeply fringed and voluminous draperies, and by the venerable\nbeard, rippling and streaked with gray, the young sculptor took the\nstranger to be an Israelite.  As Kenkenes looked upon him, he was\nminded of his father, the magnificent Mentu.  There was the bearing of\nthe courtier, with the same wondrous stature, the same massive frame.\nBut the delicate features of the Egyptian, the long, slim fingers, the\nnarrow foot, were absent.  In this man's countenance there was majesty\ninstead of grace; in his figure, might, instead of elegance.  The\nexpression had need of only a little emphasis in either direction to\nbecome benign or terrible.  Kenkenes caught a single glance of the eyes\nunder the gray shelter of the heavy brows.  Once, the young man had\nseen hanging from Meneptah's neck the rarest jewel in the royal\ntreasure.  The wise men had called it an opal.  It shot lights as\nbeautiful and awful as the intensest flame.  And something in the eyes\nof this mighty man brought back to Kenkenes the memory of the fires of\nthat wondrous gem.\n\nThe stranger stood in profound meditation, his splendid head gradually\nsinking until it rested on his breast.  The arms hung by the sides.\nThe attitude suggested a sorrow healed by the long years until it was\nno more a pain, but a memory so subduing that it depressed.  At last\nthe great man sank to his knees, with a movement quite in keeping with\nhis grandeur and his mood, and bowed his head on his arms.\n\nPressed down with awe, Kenkenes followed his example, and although he\nseemed to kneel on some rough chisel mark in the floor, he did not\nshift his position.  The discomfort seemed appropriate as penitence on\nthat holy occasion.\n\nAfter a long time the stranger arose, took up the torch and quitted the\nchamber.  He went away more slowly than he had come, with reluctant\nstep and averted face.\n\nWhen night and profound silence were restored in the crypt, Kenkenes\nregained his feet and, examining the irritated knee, found the\noffending object clinging to the impression it had made in the flesh.\nThe shape of the trifle sent a wild hope through his brain.  Groping\nthrough the dark, he found his lamp and lighted it with trembling hands.\n\nHe held the lapis-lazuli signet!\n\nHe did not move.  He only grasped the scarab tightly and panted.  The\nsudden change from intense suspense to intense relief had deprived him\nof the power of expression.  Only his physical make-up manifested its\nrebellion against the shock.\n\nAs the tumult in his heart subsided, his mind began to confront him\nwith happy fancies.  Rachel was already free.  In that moment of\nexuberance he thrust aside, as monstrous, the bar of different faith.\nHe believed he could overcome it by the very compelling power of his\nlove and the righteousness of his cause.  He spent no time picturing\nthe method of his triumph over it.  Beyond that obstacle were tender\npictures of home-making, love and life, which so filled him with\nemotion that, in a sudden ebullition of boyish gratitude, he pressed\nthe all-potent signet to his lips.\n\nThen, his cheeks reddening with a little shame at his impulsiveness, he\nexamined the scarab.  The cord by which it had been suspended passed\nthrough a small gold ring between the claws of the beetle.  This had\nworn very thin and some slight wrench had broken it.\n\n\"Ah!\" he exclaimed aloud.  \"It is even as I had thought.  But let me\nnot seem to boast when I tell my father of it.  It will be victory\nenough for me to display the jewel, and abashment enough for him to\nknow he was wrong.\"\n\nHe ceased to speak, but the echoes talked on after him.  He shivered,\ncaught up his light and raced through the sumptuous tomb into the world\nagain.\n\nIt was near dawn and the skies were pallid.  He was hungry and weary\nbut most impatient to be gone.  He would repair to Thebes and break his\nfast.  Thereafter he would procure the swiftest boat on the Nile and\ntake his rest while speeding toward Memphis.\n\nThe inn of the necropolis was like an immense dwelling, except that the\ncourts were stable-yards.  The doors, opening off the porch, were\nalways open and a light burned by night within the chamber.  So long\nand so murkily had it burnt, that the chamber Kenkenes entered was\nsmoky and redolent of it.  Aside from a high, bench-like table, running\nhalf the length of the rear wall, there was nothing else in the room.\nKenkenes rapped on the table.  In a little time an Egyptian emerged\nfrom under the counter, on the other side.  Understanding at last that\nthe guest wished to be fed, he staggered sleepily through a door and,\npresently reappearing, signed Kenkenes to enter.\n\nThe room into which the young sculptor was conducted was too large to\nbe lighted by the two lamps, hung from hooks, one at each end of the\nchamber.  Down either side, hidden in the shadows, were long benches,\nand from the huddled heap that occupied the full length of each, it was\nto be surmised that men were sleeping on them.  Above them the slatted\nblinds had been withdrawn from the small windows and the morning breeze\nwas blowing strongly through the chamber.  At the upper end was another\ntable, similar to the one in the outer room, except for a napkin in the\nmiddle with a bottle of water set upon it.  An Egyptian woman stood\nbeside this table and gave the young man a wooden stool.\n\nAs Kenkenes walked toward the seat a stronger blast of wind puffed out\nthe light above his head.  The woman climbed up to take the lamp down\nand set it on the table while she relighted it.  The skirt of her dress\ncaught on the top of the stool she had mounted and pulled it over on\nthe wooden floor with a sharp sound.\n\nOne of the sleepers stirred at the noise and turned over.  Presently he\nsat up.\n\nKenkenes righted the stool and sat down on it, the light shining in his\nface.  He saw the guest in the shadow shake off the light covering and\nwalk swiftly through the door into the outer chamber.\n\nMeanwhile the silent woman served her guest with cold baked water-fowl,\nendives, cucumbers, wheat bread and grapes, and a weak white wine.\nKenkenes ate deliberately, and consumed all that was set before him.\nWhen he had made an end, he paid his reckoning to the woman and\nreturned into the outer chamber.\n\nAt the doors, he was confronted by four members of the city\nconstabulary and a Nubian in a striped tunic.\n\n\"Seize him!\" the Nubian cried.  Instantly the four men flung themselves\nupon Kenkenes and pinioned his arms.\n\n\"Nay, by the gods,\" he exclaimed angrily.  \"What mean you?\"\n\n\"Parley not with him,\" the Nubian said in excitement.  \"Get him in\nbonds stronger than the grip of hands.  He is muscled like a bull.\"\n\nThe young sculptor looked at the Nubian.  He had seen him before--had\nhad unpleasant dealings with him.  And then he remembered, so suddenly\nand so fiercely that his captors felt the sinews creep in his arms.\n\n\"Set spare thee and thine infamous master to me!\" he exclaimed\nviolently.\n\nThe Nubian retreated a little, for Kenkenes had strained toward him.\n\n\"Get him into the four walls of a cell,\" the Nubian urged the guards.\n\"I may not lose him again, as I value my head.\"\n\nThe guards started out of the doors and Kenkenes went with them,\nunresisting, but not passively.  All the thoughts were his that can\ncome to a man, on whose freedom depend another's life and happiness.\nAdded to these was an all-consuming hate of her enemy and his, new-fed\nby this latest offense from Har-hat.  With difficulty he kept the\ntumult of his emotions from manifesting themselves to his captors.\nThey feared that his calm was ominous, and held him tightly.\n\nThe necropolis was not astir and the streets were wind-haunted.  The\ntread of the six men set dogs to barking, and only now and then was a\nface shown at the doorways.  For this Kenkenes thanked his gods, for he\nwas proud, and the eye of the humblest slave upon him in his\nhumiliating plight would have hurt him more keenly than blows.\n\nThe prison was a square building of rough stone, flat-roofed, three\nstories in height.  The red walls were broken at regular intervals by\ncrevices, barred with bronze.  There was but one entrance.\n\nHerein were confined all the malefactors of the great city of the gods,\nand since the population of Thebes might have comprised something over\nhalf a million inhabitants, the dwellers of that grim and impregnable\nprison were not few in number.\n\nKenkenes was led through the doors, down a low-roofed, narrow,\nstone-walled corridor to the room of the governor of police.\n\nThis was a hall, with a lofty ceiling, highly colored and supported by\nloteform pillars of brilliant stone.  Toth, the ibis-headed, and the\nGoddess Ma, crowned with plumes, her wings forward drooping, were\npainted on the walls.  A long table, massive, plain and solid like a\nsarcophagus, stood in the center of the room.  A confused litter of\ncurled sheets of papyrus, and long strips of unrolled linen scrolls\nwere distributed carelessly over the polished surface.  At one side\nwere eight plates of stone--the tables of law, codified and blessed by\nToth.\n\nThe governor of police was absent, but his vice, who was jailer and\nscribe in one, sat in a chair behind the great table.\n\nWhen the party entered, he sat up, undid a new scroll, wetted the reed\npen in the pigment, and was ready.\n\n\"Name?\" he began, preparing to write.\n\n\"That, thou knowest,\" Kenkenes retorted.  The Nubian bowed respectfully\nand approaching, whispered to the scribe.  The official ran over some\nof the scrolls and having found the one he sought, proceeded to make\nhis entries from the information contained therein.\n\nWhen the man had finished Kenkenes nodded toward the eight volumes of\nthe law.\n\n\"If thou art as acquainted with the laws of Egypt as thine office\nrequires, thou knowest that no free-born Egyptian may be kept ignorant\nof the charge that accomplished his arrest.  Wherefore am I taken?\"\n\n\"For sacrilege and slave-stealing,\" the scribe replied calmly.\n\n\"At the complaint of Har-hat, bearer of the king's fan,\" Kenkenes added.\n\n\"Until such time as stronger proof of thy misdeeds may be brought\nagainst thee,\" the scribe continued.\n\n\"Even so.  In plainer words, I shall be held till I confess what he\nwould have me tell, or until I decay in this tomb.  Let me give thee my\nword, I shall do neither.  Unhand me.  I shall not attempt to escape.\"\n\nAt a sign from the scribe the four men released him and took up a\nposition at the doors.  Kenkenes opened his wallet and displayed the\nsignet.  The scribe took it and read the inscription.  There was no\ndoubting the young man's right to the jewel for here was the name of\nMentu, even as the chief adviser had given it in identifying the\nprisoner.  The official frowned and stroked his chin.\n\n\"This petitions the Pharaoh,\" he said at last.  \"I can not pass upon\nit.\"\n\n\"Send me to my cell, then, and do thou follow,\" Kenkenes said.  \"I have\nsomewhat to tell thee.\"\n\n\"Take him to his cell,\" the official said to the men as he returned the\nsignet to the prisoner.  \"I shall attend him.\"\n\nKenkenes was led into a corridor, wide enough for three walking side by\nside.  There was no light therein, but the foremost of the four stooped\nbefore what seemed a section of solid wall and after a little fumbling,\na massive door swung inward.\n\nThe chamber into which it led was wide enough for a pallet of straw\nlaid lengthwise, with passage room between it and the opposite wall.\nThe foot of the bed was within two feet of the door.  Between the\nstones, in the opposite end near the ceiling, was a crevice, little\nwider than two palms.  This noted, the interior of the cell has been\ndescribed.\n\nThe jailer entered after him, and let the door fall shut.\n\n\"I have but to crave a messenger of thee--a swift and a sure one--one\nwho can hold his peace and hath pride in his calling.  I can offer all\nhe demands.  And this, further.  Keep his going a secret, for I am\nbeset and I would not have my rescue by the Pharaoh thwarted.\"\n\n\"I can send thee a messenger,\" the jailer answered.\n\n\"Ere midday,\" Kenkenes added.\n\n\"I hear,\" the passive official assented.\n\nThe solid section of wall swung shut behind him and the great bolts\nshot into place.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nTHE PETITION\n\nSome time later the bar rattled down again, and the jailer stood\nwithout, a scribe at his side.  At a sign from the jailer, the latter\nmade as though to enter, but Kenkenes stopped him.\n\n\"I have need of your materials only,\" he said, \"but the fee shall be\nyours nevertheless.\"  The man set his case on the floor and Kenkenes\nput a ring of silver in the outstretched palm.\n\n\"Fail me not in a faithful messenger,\" the prisoner repeated to the\njailer.  The official nodded, and the door was closed again.\n\nKenkenes sat on the floor beside the case, laid the cover back and\ntaking out materials, wrote thus:\n\n\"To my friend, the noble Hotep, greeting:\n\n\"This from Kenkenes, whom ill-fortune can not wholly possess, while he\nmay call thee his friend.\n\n\"I speak to thee out of the prison at Tape, where I am held for\nstealing a bondmaiden and for executing a statue against the canons of\nthe sculptor's ritual.  The accumulated penalty for these offenses is\ngreat--my plight is most serious.\n\n\"The pitying gods have left me one chance for escape.  If I fail I\nshall molder here, for my counsel is mine and the demons of Amenti\nshall not rend it from me.\n\n\"The tale is short and miserable.  But for the necessity I would not\nrepeat it, for it publishes the humiliation of sweet innocence.\n\n\"Suffice it to say that the offended is she of whom we talked one day\non the hill back of Masaarah; the offender is Har-hat who hath buried\nme here in Tape.\n\n\"One morning he saw her at the quarries and, taken with her beauty,\nasked her at the hands of the Pharaoh, for the hatefullest bondage pure\nmaidenhood ever knew.\n\n\"She fled from the minions he sent to take her, and came to me in that\nspot on the hillside where thou and I did talk.\n\n\"There the minions found us, and by the evidence they looked upon, I am\nfurther charged with sacrilege.\n\n\"Thou dost remember the all-powerful signet, which my father had from\nthe Incomparable Pharaoh.  He lost it in the tomb of the king, three\nyears ago, abandoning the search for it before I was assured that it\nwas not to be found.\n\n\"So strong was my faith that the signet was in the tomb, that when this\ndisaster overtook her, I came to Tape at once to look again for the\ntreasure.  I found it.\n\n\"But by some unknowable mischance mine enemy discovered my whereabouts\nand a third minion, who escaped my wrath before the statue that\nmorning, appeared in the city and caused me to be delivered up to the\nauthorities on the charges already named.\n\n\"She is hidden, and I have provided for her protection, as well as I\nmay, against the wishes of the strongest man in the land.  For her\nimmediate welfare I am not greatly troubled.  But, alas!  I would be\nwith her--thou knowest, O my Hotep, the hunger and heartache of such\nseparation.\n\n\"If the Pharaoh honor not the signet herein inclosed, tell my father of\nmy plight, let me know the decision of the king, and then I shall trust\nto the Hathors for liberty.\n\n\"Of this contingency, I would not speak at length.  It may be tempting\nthe caprice of the Seven Sisters to presuppose such misfortune.\n\n\"Let not my father intervene for me.  He shall not endanger himself\nfurther than I have already asked of him.\n\n\"But remember thou this injunction, most surely.  That it shall be last\nand therefore freshest in thy memory, I put this at the end of the\nletter.\n\n\"Put the petition herein inclosed into the Pharaoh's hands!  For my\nlife's sake let it not come into the possession of any other.\n\n\"I shall write no more.  My scant eloquence must be saved for the king.\n\n\"Gods! but it is good to have faith in a friend.  I salute thee.\n\n\"KENKENES.\"\n\n\nThe letter to Hotep complete, Kenkenes took up another roll and wrote\nthus to Meneptah:\n\n\n\"To Meneptah, Beloved of Ptah, Ambassador of Amen, Vicar of Ra, Lord\nover Upper and Lower Egypt, greeting:\"\n\n\nAt this point he paused.  His power of expression, aghast at the\nmagnitude of the stake laid on its successful use, became\npanic-stricken and fled from him.  He feared that words could not be\nchosen which would justify his sacrilege or prove his claims to Rachel\ngreater than Har-hat's.  Meneptah would be hedged about with prejudice\nagainst his first cause, and deterred by the prior right of Har-hat, in\nthe second.  The last man that talked with the king molded him.\nFlattery alone might prevail against coercion.  It was the one hope.\n\nKenkenes seized his pen and wrote:\n\n\n\"This from thy subject, Kenkenes, the son of Mentu, thy murket.\n\n\"I give thee a true story, O Defender of Women.\n\n\"There is a maiden whose kinsmen died of hard labor in the service of\nEgypt.  Not one was left to care for her.  Of all her house, she alone\nremains.  They died in ignominy.  Shall the last remnant of the unhappy\nfamily be stamped out in dishonor?\n\n\"If one came before thee seeking to insult innocence, and another\nbegging leave to protect it, thou wouldst choose for him who would keep\npure the undefiled.  Have I not said, O my King?\n\n\"Before thee, even now is such a choice.\n\n\"Already thou hast given over the mastership of Rachel, daughter of\nMaai the Israelite, to thy fan-bearer, Har-hat.  By the lips of his own\nservants, I am informed that he would have put her in his harem.\n\n\"She fled from him and I hid her away, for I could not bear to deliver\nher up to the despoiler.\n\n\"I love her--she loveth me.  Wilt thou not give her to me to wife?\n\n\"Thine illustrious sire bespeaketh thy favor, out of Amenti.  Behold\nhis signet and its injunction.\n\n\"Furthermore, I confess to sacrilege against Athor, in carving a statue\nwhich ignored the sculptor's ritual.  For this, and for hiding the\nIsraelite, am I imprisoned in the city stronghold of Tape.\n\n\"I would be free to return to my love and comfort her, but if it shall\novertax thy generosity to release me, I pray thee announce my sentence\nand let me begin to count the hours till I shall come forth again.\n\n\"The Israelite hath a nurse, a feeble and sick old woman, Deborah by\nname, whom the minions of Har-hat abused.  She can be of no further use\nin servitude, and I would have thee set her free to bear company to her\nlove, the white-souled Rachel.\n\n\"But if these last prayers imperil the first by strain upon thy\nindulgence, O Beloved of Ptah, do thou set them aside, and grant only\nthe safety of the oppressed maiden.\n\n\"These to thy hand, by the hand of the scribe, Hotep.\n\n\"KENKENES.\"\n\n\nThe letter complete, he summoned the messenger.\n\n\"How swift art thou?\" he asked.\n\n\"So swift that my service is desired beyond mine opportunities to\naccept,\" was the answer.\n\n\"How is it that thou art ready to serve me?  Thou seest my plight.\"\n\n\"The jailer spoke of thee as petitioning the Pharaoh.  The king is in\nthe north where I have not been in all the reign of Meneptah.  Thou\nofferest me a pleasure and the fee shall be in proportion to the length\nof the journey.\"\n\n\"Nay, but thou art a genius.  Thou dost move me to imitate the Hathors,\nsince they add fortune to the already fortunate.  Mark me.  I will give\nthee thy fee now.  If thou dost return me a letter showing that thou\nhast carried the message with all faith and speed, I shall give thee\nanother fee on thy home-coming.  What thinkest thou?\"\n\nThe man smiled and nodded.  \"Naught but the darts of Amenti shall delay\nme.\"\n\nKenkenes gave him the message, and a handful of rings.  The man\nexpressed his thanks, after which he went forth, and the door was\nbarred.\n\nKenkenes stood for a while, motionless before the tightly fitted portal\nof stone.  Then through the high crevice that was his window the sounds\nof life outside smote upon his ear.  The noise of the city seemed to\nbecome all revel.  Some one under the walls laughed--the hearty,\nraucous laugh of the care-free boor.\n\nHe turned about and flung himself face down in the straw of his pallet.\n\nHe had begun to wait.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nTHE LOVE OF RAMESES\n\nBy the twentieth of May, the court of Meneptah was ready to proceed to\nTanis.\n\nThe next week the Pharaoh would depart.  To-night he received noble\nMemphis for a final revel.\n\nHis palace was aglow, from its tremendous portals to the airy hypostyle\nupon its root and from far-reaching wing to wing, with countless\ncolored lights.  From every architrave and cornice depended garlands\nand draperies, and tinted banners waved unseen in the dark.  The great\nloteform pillars supporting the porch were festooned with lotus\nflowers, and the approaches were strewn with palm-leaves.\n\nThe guests came in chariots with but a single attendant or in litters\naccompanied by a gorgeous retinue and much authority.  Charioteers\nswore full-mouthed oaths and smote slaves; horses reared and plunged\nand bearers hurried back through the dark with empty chairs.  Meanwhile\nthe pacing sentries made frank criticism and gazed at each alighting\nnew-comer with eyes of connoisseurs.\n\nWhen the portals opened, a broad shaft of light shot into the night, a\nmultitude of attendants was seen bowing; gusts of reedy music and\nbabble and the smell of wilting flowers and Puntish incense swept into\nthe outer air.\n\nWithin, the great feast began and proceeded to completeness.  The\ntables were removed and the stage of the revel was far advanced.  The\nlevels of scented vapor from the aromatic torches undulated midway\nbetween the ceiling and the floor and belted the frescoes upon the\npaneled walls.  Far up the vaulted hall, the Pharaoh and his queen, in\nroyal isolation, were growing weary.\n\nThe lions chained to their lofty dais slept.  The guardian nobles that\nstood about the royal pair leaned heavily upon their arms.\n\nOut in the sanded strip across the tessellated floor, tumblers were\nglistening with perspiration from their vaguely noticed efforts.  Apart\nfrom the guests the painted musicians squatted close together and made\nthe air vibrant with the softly monotonous strumming of their\ninstruments.\n\nThe company, which was large, had fallen into easy attitudes; an\nexciting game of drafts, or a story-teller, or a beauty, attracting\ngroups here and there over the hall.\n\nBefore one table, whereon the scattered pawns of a game yet lay,\nRameses lounged in a deep chair, a semi-recumbent figure in marble and\nobsidian.  Beside him, where she had seated herself at his command, was\nMasanath.\n\nThere was Seti at Ta-user's side, but Io was not at the feast.  She\nmourned for Kenkenes.  Ta-meri was there, the bride of a week to\nNechutes, who hovered about her without eye or ear for any other of the\ncompany.  Siptah, Menes, Har-hat, all of the group save Hotep and\nKenkenes, were present and near enough to be of the crown prince's\nparty, yet scattered sufficiently to talk among themselves.\n\nThe game of drafts, prolonged from one to many, had ended disastrously\nfor the prince in spite of his most gallant efforts to win.  Masanath,\nagainst whom he had played, finally thrust the pawns away and refused\nto play further with him.\n\n\"Thou dost make sport for the Hathors, O Prince,\" she said.  \"Have\nrespect for thyself and indulge their caprice no more.\"\n\n\"Hast thou not heard that we may compel the gods?\" he asked.  \"Perhaps\nI do but indulge them, of a truth.  But let me set mine own will\nagainst fate and there shall be no more losing for me.\"\n\n\"It is a precarious game.  Perchance there is as strong a will as\nthine, compelling the Hathors contrarily to thine own desires.  What,\nthen, O Rameses?\"\n\n\"By the gambling god, Toth, I shall try it!\" he exclaimed.  \"The\nopportunity is before me even now.\"\n\nHe took her hand.\n\n\"I catch thy meaning.  Beloved of Isis!  Thou didst challenge me long\nago, and long ago I took it up.  Thus far have we fenced behind\nshields.  Down with the bull-hide, now, and bare the heart!\"\n\n\"Thou dost forget thyself,\" she retorted, wrenching her hand from him.\n\"The eyes of thy guests are upon thee.\"\n\nHe laughed.  \"The prince's doings become the fashion.  Let me be seen\nand there shall be no woman's hand unpossessed in this chamber.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt set no fashion by me.  Neither shalt thou rend the Hathors\nbetween thy wishes and mine.  Furthermore, if thou dost forget thy\nprincely dignity, thy power will not prevent me if I would remind thee\nof thy lapse.\"\n\n\"War!\" he exclaimed.  \"Now, by the battling hosts of Set, never have I\nmet a foe so worthy the overcoming.  Listen!  Dost thou know that I\nhave sorrows?  Dost thou remember that I may have sleepless nights and\nunhappy days--discontents, heartaches and oppressions?  I am not less\nhuman because I am royal, but because I am royal I am more unhappy.\nSorry indeed is a prince's lot!  Wherefore?  Because he is sated with\nsubmission; because he hath drunk satiety to its very dregs; because he\nhath been denied the healing hunger of appetite, ambition, conquest.\nHow hath my miserable heart longed to aspire--to conquer!  I have\nstarved for something beyond my reach.  But lo! in thee I have found\nwhat I sought.  Thou hast defied me, rebuffed me, thwarted me till the\nsurfeited soul in me hath grown fat upon resistance.  Now shall the\nlonging to conquer that racketh me be fed!  Go on in thy rebellion,\nMasanath!  Gods! but thou art a foe worthy the subduing!  I would not\nhave thee give up to me now.  I would earn thee by defeats, losses and\nmany scars.  And thy kiss of submission, in some far day, will give me\nmore joy than the instant capitulation of many empires.\"\n\n\"Thou hast provided thyself with lifelong warfare, and triumph to thine\nenemy at the end,\" she answered serenely.\n\nHer reply seemed to awaken a train of thought in the prince.  He did\nnot respond immediately.  He leaned his elbows on his knees, and\nclasping his hands before him, thought a while.  In the silence the\ntalk of the others was audible.\n\n\"The festivities of Memphis have lost two, since they lost one,\" Menes\nmused.\n\n\"Give us thy meaning,\" Nechutes asked.\n\n\"Hast seen Hotep in Memphian revels since Kenkenes died?\" the captain\nasked, by way of answer.\n\nNechutes shook his head.  \"The gods have dealt heavily with Mentu,\" he\nsaid after a little silence.  \"Not even the body of his son returned to\nhim for burial!\"\n\nHar-hat, who had been perched on the arm of Ta-meri's chair, broke in.\n\n\"Mayhap the young man is not dead,\" he surmised.\n\n\"All the Memphian nome hath been searched, my Lord,\" Menes protested.\n\n\"Aye, but these flighty geniuses are not to be measured by doings of\nother men.  Perhaps he hath gone to teach the singing girls at Abydos\nor Tape.\"\n\n\"Ah, my Lord!\" protested Ta-meri, horrified.\n\n\"Nay, now,\" Har-hat responded, bending over her.  \"I but give his\nfriends hope.  To prove my sincerity I will wager my biggest diamond\nagainst thy three brightest smiles that thou wilt hear of Kenkenes\nagain, alive and dreamy as ever, led into this strange absence by some\nmoonshine caprice.\"\n\n\"I would give more than my biggest diamond to believe thee,\" Nechutes\nmuttered, turning away.\n\n\"Wilt thou wager?\" the fan-bearer demanded with animation.\n\n\"Nay!\" was the cup-bearer's blunt reply.  Har-hat shrugged his\nshoulders and lapsed into silence.  Rameses leaned toward Masanath\nagain.  The expression on his face during the talk and the tone he\nchose now showed that he had not heard, nor was even conscious of the\nsilence that had fallen.  His words were low-spoken, but each of his\ncompanions heard.\n\n\"In warfare it is common for a foe to hedge his adversary about so that\nfight he must.  Thou art a woman and cunning, and lest thou join\nthyself to another and elude me ere the battle is on, I would better\ntreat thee to a strategy.  I shall wed thee first and woo thee\nafterward.\"\n\nTa-user leaned across the table, and sweeping the pawns away with her\narms, said, with a smile:\n\n\"Quarreling over a game of drafts!  Which is in distress--in need of\nallies?\"\n\n\"Come thou and be my mercenary, Ta-user,\" Masanath said with impulsive\ngratitude.  \"Rameses hath lost and demands restitution beyond reason.\"\n\nHar-hat had risen the instant the words had passed the prince's lips\nand left the group.  He did not wish to let his face be seen.  A dash\nof dark color grew in the heir's pallid cheeks, partly because he knew\nhe had been heard, partly because he was angry at the princess'\ninterruption.\n\n\"Strange,\" mused Menes once again, \"that the phrases of war mark the\nbabble of even the maidens these days.  And half the revels end in\nquarrels.  Though I be young in war experience, I would say the omens\npoint to conflict in which Egypt shall be embroiled.\"\n\n\"Aye, Menes; and perchance thou wilt be measuring swords with a Hebrew\nere the summer is old,\" Siptah said, speaking for the first time.\n\n\"Matching thy good saber-metal with a trowel or a hay-fork, Menes,\"\nRameses sneered.\n\n\"Hold, thou doughty pride of the battling gods!\" Menes cried laughingly\nto Rameses.  \"For once, I scout thy prophecies.  The Hebrews are\nstirred up beyond any settling, save thou dost put them all to the\nsword, and that is a task that I would go to Tuat to escape.  Thou wilt\nnot work the Israelite to death.  I can tell thee that!\"\n\n\"Hast caught the infectious terror of the infant-scaring, bugbear\nHebrew?\" Rameses asked.\n\nMenes leaned against the nearest knee and smiled lazily.\n\n\"If the gray-beard sorcerer did meet me in open field, protected only\nwith bull-hide and armed with a spear, I would fight him till he said\n'enough'; but who wants to go against an incantation that would mow\ndown an army at the muttering?  Not I; yea, Rameses, I am a craven in\nbattle with a sorcerer.\"\n\n\"If he means to blast us, wherefore hath he not spoken the cabalistic\nword ere this?\" the prince demanded.\n\n\"He had no personal provocation until late,\" the captain replied.\n\n\"Hath the taskmaster set him to making brick?\" the prince laughed.\n\n\"Nay; but the priesthood plotted against his head, and he is angry.\"\n\nRameses raised himself and looked fixedly at the soldier.  Again Menes\nlaughed.\n\n\"Spare me, my Prince!  It is no longer a state secret.  It is out and\nover all Egypt.  Why it came not to thine ears I know not.  Perchance\nevery one is afraid to gossip to thee save mine unabashed self.\"\n\n\"Waster of the air!\" Rameses exclaimed.  \"What meanest thou?\"\n\n\"It seems that the older priests have a hieratic grudge against the\nIsraelite, and when he returned into Egypt they set themselves, with\nmuch bustle, importance and method to silence him.  Hither and thither\nthey sent for advice, permission and aid, till all the wheels of the\nhierarchy were in motion, and the air quivered with portent and intent.\nVain ado!  Superfluous preparation!  The very letter which gave them\nexplicit and formal permission to begin to get ready to commence to put\naway the Hebrew, fell--by the mischievous Hathors!--fell into the hands\nof the victim himself!\"\n\nRameses fell back into his chair, his lips twitching once or twice, a\nmanifestation of his genuine amusement.\n\n\"As it follows, the Israelite is angry.  So the witch-pot hath been put\non, and in council with a toad and a cat and an owl, he thinketh up\nsome especial sending to curse us with,\" the captain concluded.\n\n\"A proper ending,\" Rameses declared after a little.  \"Let men kill each\nother openly, if they will, but the methods of the ambushed assassin\nshould recoil upon himself.\"\n\nAt this point it was seen that the Pharaoh and his queen were preparing\nto leave the hall.  All the company arose, and after the royal pair had\npassed out the guests began to depart.  Rameses left his party and,\njoining Har-hat, led the fan-bearer away from the company.\n\n\"It seems that thou, with others, heardest my words with Masanath,\" the\nprince began at once.  \"It is well, for it saves me further speech now.\nI want thy daughter as my queen.\"\n\nHar-hat seemed to ponder a little before he answered.  \"Masanath does\nnot love thee,\" he said at last.\n\n\"Nay, but she shall.\"\n\n\"That granted, there are further reasons why ye should not wed,\" the\nfan-bearer resumed after another pause.  \"Masanath would come between\nEgypt and Egypt's welfare.  Thou knowest what thy marriage with the\nPrincess Ta-user is expected to accomplish.  At this hour the nation is\nin need of unity that she may safely do battle with her alien foes.  If\nthou slightest Ta-user thou wilt add to the disaffection of Amon-meses\nand his party.  Furthermore, thine august sire would not be pleased\nwith thee nor with Masanath, nor with me.  It is not my place to show\nthee thy duty, Rameses, but of a surety it is my place to refuse to\njoin thee in thy neglecting of it.\"\n\nRameses contemplated the fan-bearer narrowly for a moment.  \"Come, thou\nhast a game,\" he said finally.  \"Out with it!  Name thy stake.\"\n\n\"O, thou art most discourteous, my Prince,\" the fan-bearer\nremonstrated, turning away.  But Rameses planted himself in his path.\n\n\"Stay!\" he said grimly.  \"Dost thou believe me so blind as to think\nthee sincere?  Thou canst use thy smooth pretenses upon the Pharaoh,\nbut I understand thee, Har-hat.  Declare thyself and vex me no further\nwith thy subtleties.\"  Har-hat measured the prince's patience before he\nanswered.\n\n\"When thou canst use me courteously, Rameses,\" he said with dignity, \"I\nshall talk with thee again.  Meanwhile do not build on wedding with\nMasanath.  I shall mate her with him who hath respect for her father.\"\n\nFor a moment Rameses stood in doubt.  Could it be that this soulless\nman had scruples against giving him Masanath?  But Har-hat, allowed a\nchance to leave the prince if he would, had not moved.  Rameses\nunderstood the act.  The fan-bearer was awaiting a propitious\nopportunity to name his price gracefully.  The momentary warmth of\nrespect died in the prince's heart.\n\n\"Out with it,\" he insisted more calmly.  \"What is it?  Power, wealth or\na wife?  These three things I have to give thee.  Take thy choice.\"\n\n\"I would have thee use me respectfully, reverently,\" Har-hat retorted\nwarmly.  \"I would have thee speak favorably of me; I would have thee do\nme no injustice by deed or word, nor peril my standing with the king!\nThis I demand of thee--I will not buy it!\"\n\n\"To be plain,\" Rameses continued placidly, \"thou wouldst insure to\nthyself the position of fan-bearer.  Say on.\"\n\n\"I am fan-bearer to the king,\" Har-hat continued with a show of\nincreasing heat, \"and I would fill mine office.  If thou art to be his\nadviser in my stead, do thou take up the plumes, and I will return to\nBubastis.\"\n\n\"Once again I shall interpret.  I am to keep silence in the council\nchamber and resign to thee the molding of my plastic father.  It is\nwell, for I am not pleased with ruling before I wear the crown.  But\nmark me!  Thou shalt not advise me when I rule over Egypt.  So take\nheed to my father's health and see that his life is prolonged, for with\nits end shall end thine advisership.  What more?\"\n\n\"So thou observest these things I am satisfied.\"\n\n\"Gods! but thou art moderate.  Masanath is worth more than that.  Do I\ntake her?\"\n\n\"She does not love thee.\"\n\nThe prince waved his hand and repeated his question.\n\n\"I shall speak with her,\" Har-hat responded, \"and give thee her word.\"\n\nFor a moment the prince contemplated the fan-bearer, then he turned\nwithout a word and strode out of the chamber.  In a corridor near his\nown apartments he overtook the daughter of Har-hat.  Her woman was with\nher.\n\nThe prince stepped before them.\n\nThe attendant crouched and fled somewhere out of sight.  Masanath drew\nherself to the fullest of her few inches and waited for Rameses to\nspeak.\n\n\"Come, Masanath,\" he said, \"thou canst reach the limit of thy power to\nbe ungracious and but fix me the firmer in my love for thee.  I am come\nto tell thee that I have won thee from thy father.\"\n\n\"Thou hast not won me from myself,\" she replied.\n\n\"Nay, but I shall.\"\n\n\"Thou dost overestimate thyself,\" she retorted.  Catching up the fan\nand chaplet that her woman had let fall she made as though to run past\nhim.  But he put himself in her way, and with shining eyes, caught her\nin his arms.\n\n\"There, there! my sweet.  I shall do thee no hurt,\" he laughed,\nquieting her struggles with an iron embrace.\n\n\"Thou art hurting me beyond any cure now,\" she panted wrathfully.\n\n\"It is thy fault.  Have I not said I am sated with submission?  If thou\nwouldst unlock mine arms, kiss me and tell me thou wilt be my queen.\"\n\n\"Let me go,\" she exclaimed, choking with emotion.\n\n\"Better for thee to tell me 'yes'; thou wilt save thy father a lie.\"\n\nShe looked at him speechless.\n\n\"I have said.  To-morrow he will tell me that thou hast promised to wed\nme--whether thou sayest it or not.  Spare him the falsehood, Masanath,\nand me a heartache.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou slander my father to me?\" she demanded.  \"Art thou a knave\nas well as a tyrant?\"\n\n\"Nay, I have spoken truly.  Sad indeed were thy fate, my Masanath, did\nthe gods mate thee with a knave, having fathered thee with a villain.\nSo I am come to know of a truth what is thy will.\"\n\n\"And I can tell thee most truly.  Sooner would I sit upon the peak of a\npyramid all my life than upon a throne with thee; sooner would I be\ncrowned with fire than wear the asp of a queen to thee.  My father may\nwed me to thee, but I will never love thee, nor say it, nor pretend it.\nThou wilt not win a wife if thou dost take a queen by violence.\nRelease me!\"\n\n\"Thou dost rivet mine arms about thee.\"\n\nShe stiffened herself and savagely submitted to her imprisonment.\n\nRameses laughed and, bending her head back, kissed her repeatedly and\nwith much tenderness.  She struggled madly, but he held her fast.\n\n\"This is but the beginning,\" he said in a low voice, \"and I have won.\nThe end shall be the same.  I am a lovable lover, am I not, Masanath?\nAm I not good to look upon?  Dost thou know a more princely prince, and\nis my father more of a king than I shall be?  Where do I fail thee in\nthy little ideals?  Am I harsh?  Aye, but I am a king.  Am I\nrough-spoken?  Aye, because most of the world deserve it.  Thou hast\nnever felt the sting of my tongue, and never shalt thou unless thou\nbreakest my heart.  I have much to give thee; not any other monarch\nhath so much as I to give his queen.  And yet I ask only thy love in\nreturn.\"\n\nThis was earnest wooing, which contained nothing that she might flout.\nSo she strained away from him and sulked.  Again he laughed.\n\n\"Khem and Athor and Besa have combed my heart and created a being of\nthe desires they found therein!  O, thou art mine, for the gods\nordained it so.\"  Again he kissed her, holding her in spite of her\nefforts to get away.\n\n\"There! carry thy hate of me only to the edge of sleep and dream\nsweetly of me.\"\n\nHe released her and continued down the hall.\n\nAs he turned out of the smaller passage into the larger corridor,\nTa-user stepped forth from the shadow of a pillar.  The huge column\ndwarfed her into tininess.  The hall was but dimly lighted by a single\nlamp and that flared above her head.\n\nRameses paused, for she stood in his path.\n\n\"Not yet gone to thy rest?\" he asked.\n\n\"Rest!\" she said scornfully.  \"Gone to a night-long frenzy of\nrelentless consciousness--weary tossing, wasted prayers.  I have not\nrested since I left the Hak-heb.\"\n\nHer voice sounded hollow in the great empty hall.\n\n\"So?  Thou art ready for the care of the physicians by this, then, O my\nSister.\"\n\n\"I am not thy sister.\"\n\n\"What!  Hast quarreled with the gentle Seti?\"\n\n\"Rameses, do not mock me.  Seti does not even stir my pulses.  He could\nnot rob me of my peace.\"\n\n\"What temperate love!  Mine makes my temples crack and fills mine hours\nwith sweet distress.\"\n\nTa-user looked at him for a moment, then raising her hands, caught the\nfolds of his robe over his breast.\n\n\"Rameses, how far wilt thou go in this trifling with the Lady Masanath?\"\n\n\"To the marrying priests.\"  Without looking at her, he loosed her\nhands, swung them idly and let them go.\n\n\"She does not love thee,\" she said after a little silence.\n\n\"Thy news is old.  She told me that not a moment since.\"\n\nTa-user drew a freer breath.  \"Thou wilt not wed her, then.\"\n\n\"That I will.  I have vowed it.  Go, Ta-user, the hour is late.  Have\nthy woman stir a potion for thee, and sleep.  I would to mine own\ndreams.  They yield me what the day denies.\"\n\n\"Stay, Rameses,\" she urged, catching at his robes once more.  \"I would\nhave thee know something.  But am I to tell thee in words what I would\nhave thee know?  Surely I have not let slip a single chance to show\nthee by token.  Art thou stubborn or blind, that thou dost not pity me\nand spare me the avowal?\"\n\nRameses looked down at her upturned face without a softening line on\nhis pallid countenance.\n\n\"Ta-user,\" he said deliberately, \"had I been mummied and entombed I\nshould have known thine intent.  I marvel that thou couldst think I had\nnot seen.  Now, hast thou not guessed my mind by this?  Have I not been\nsufficiently explicit?  Must I, too, lay bare my heart in words?\"\n\nShe did not speak for a moment.  Then she said eagerly:\n\n\"Let not thy jealousy trouble thee concerning Seti--he is naught to\nme--I love him not--a boy, no more.\"\n\n\"Seti!\" he exclaimed contemptuously.  \"I have no feeling against Seti\nsave for his unfealty to the little child who loves him,--whose heart\nthou hast most deliberately broken.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" she declared vehemently.  \"I can not help the boy's\nattachment to me.  She is a child, as thou hast said, and is easily\ncomforted.  Not so with maturer hearts like mine.\"\n\nShe put her arms about his neck, and flinging her head back, gazed at\nhim with a heavy eye.\n\n\"O, wilt thou put me aside for Masanath?  What is her little dark\nbeauty compared to mine?  How can she, who is not even a stately\nsubject, be a stately queen?  Wilt thou set the crown upon her unregal\nhead, invest her with the royal robes, and yield thy homage to a scowl\nand a bitter word?  And me, in whom there is no drop of unroyal blood,\nin whom there is all the passion of the southlands and all the fidelity\nof the north, thou wilt humiliate.  The gods made me for thee--schooled\nme for thy needs and shifted the nation's history so that thou shouldst\nhave need of me.  Look upon me, Rameses.  Why wilt thou thrust me\naside?\"\n\nShe was not dealing with Seti, or Siptah, or any other whom she had\nbewitched.  There was no spell in the topaz eyes for Rameses.  If her\nsorcery affected him at all, it won no more than a cursory interest in\nher next move.\n\n\"The night is too short to recount my reasons,\" he replied calmly, as\nhe put her arms away.  \"But I might point out the snarling cur, Siptah,\nfor one, and a few other comely lords of Egypt.\"\n\n\"What hast thou done in thy life?\" she cried.  \"I am no more wicked\nthan thou; thou hast found delight in others beside whom I am all\ninnocence.\"\n\n\"It may be.  Who knows but there is somewhat of the vulture-nostril in\nman, tickled with a vague taint?  But, even then, the sense is\nfleeting, more or less as the natures of men vary.  A man hath his\nbetter moments, and how shall they be entirely pure in the presence of\nshame?  Nay, I would not mate and live for ever with mine own sins.\"\n\n\"Then as thou dost permit her spotlessness to cover her hate, let my\nlove for thee hide my sins.  From the first I have loved thee unasked.\nShe is all unwon.\"\n\n\"Thou hast said it.  She is unwon.  But doth the lion prey upon the\ncarcass?  Nay.  His kill must be fresh and slain by his own might.\nThou didst stultify thyself by thine instant acquiescence.  Come, let\nus make an end to this.  The more said the more thou shalt have of\nwhich to accuse thyself hereafter.\"\n\nBut she dropped before him, her white robes cumbering his path, her\narms clasping his knees.\n\n\"What more have I to do of which to accuse myself, O Rameses?  Egypt\nknows why I came to court.  Egypt will know why I shall leave it.  What\nhave I not offered and what hast thou given me?  Where shall I find\nthat refuge from the pitying smile of the nation?  Spare my womanhood--\"\n\n\"Ah, fie upon thy pretense, Ta-user!  Art thou not shrewd enough to\nknow how well I understand thee?  Thou dost not love me.  No woman who\nloves pleads beyond the first rebuff.  Love is full of dudgeon.  Thou\ndost betray thyself in thy very insistence.  Thou beggest for the crown\nI shall wear, and if I were over-thrown to-morrow thou wouldst kneel\nlikewise to mine enemy.  Thou hast no womanhood to lose in Egypt's\nsight.  As thy caprice turned from Siptah to me, let it return thee to\nSiptah once again.  And if thy heart doth in truth wince with jealousy,\nthink on Io.\"\n\nHe undid her arms, flung her from him and disappeared into the dark.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nFURTHER DIPLOMACY\n\nMasanath, suffocating with wrath and rebellion and overpowered with an\nexaggerated appreciation of her shame, tumbled down in the shadows of\nthe narrow passage and wrapped her mantle around her head.\n\nWhen she had wept till the creamy linen over her small face was wet and\nher throat hurt under the strain of angry sobs, and until she was sure\nthat Rameses was gone, she picked herself up and went cautiously to the\nend of the passage to reconnoiter.\n\nThe prince stood under the single lamp in the great corridor, between\nher and the refuge of her chamber.  Another was close to him, her hands\nupon his shoulders.\n\nMasanath retired into the dusk and waited.  When she looked again the\nhands were clasped about the prince's neck.  Back into the shadows she\nshrank, pressing her tiny palms together in a wild prayer for Ta-user's\ntriumph.  After an interval she looked again in time to see Rameses\nundo the arms about his knees and fling the princess from him.  Cold\nwith dismay and shaking with her sudden descent from hope to despair,\nMasanath watched him disappear into the dark.\n\n\"O most ill-timed, iron continence!\" she wailed under her breath.  But\nthe change which had come over Ta-user interested her immediately.\nFascinated, she forgot to hide again, but the light of the single lamp\ndid not penetrate to her position.\n\nThe princess kept the posture of abandoned humiliation, into which\nRameses had flung her, until the heir's footsteps died away up the\ncorridor.  Then she raised herself and faced the direction the prince\nhad taken.  Her lithe body bent a little, her rigid arms were thrust\nback of her, and the hands were clenched hard.  Her head was forced\nforward, the long neck curved sinuously like a vulture's.  She began to\nspeak in a whisper that hissed as though she breathed through her\nwords.  Masanath felt her flesh crawl and her soft hair take on life.\nNot all the words of the sorceress were intelligible.  At first only\nher ejaculations were distinct.\n\n\"Puny knave!\" Masanath heard.  \"Well for thee I do not love thee, else\nthou shouldst sleep this night in the reeking cave of a paraschite,\nwith the whine of feeding flies about thee for dreams.  Well for me\nthat I do not love thee, for thine instant death would rob me of the\nlong revenge that I would liefer have!  Share thy crown with me!  When\nTa-user hath done with thee thou shalt have no crown to share!  Turned\nfrom Siptah for thee!  How thou wilt marvel when thou learnest that I\nnever turned from Siptah nor wooed thee with a single glance but for\nSiptah's sake.  Go on!  Sleep well!  Have no regrets, for thy doom was\nspoken long before this night's haughty work.  Rather do I thank thee\nfor thy scorn.  It robs me of qualms and adds instead a dark delight in\nthat which I shall do!\"\n\nShe turned toward Masanath, walking swiftly.  The fan-bearer's\ndaughter, stricken with panic, fled, nor paused until she had passed\nfar beyond the chamber of Ta-user.\n\nCowering in a friendly niche, she waited until the princess had\ndisappeared, and then only after a long time was she sufficiently\nreassured to reach her own apartments.\n\nIt was the next day's noon before Masanath saw her father.  Then he\ncame with light step as she sat in her room.  Approaching from behind\nher, he took her face between his hands, and tilting it back, kissed\nher.\n\n\"I give thee joy, Masanath.  Thou hast melted the iron prince.\"\n\nShe rose and faced him.  \"Did Rameses tell thee I loved him?\" she\ndemanded, a faint hope stirring in her heart.\n\n\"Nay, far from it.  He told me, and laughed as he said it, that if thy\nsoft heart had any passion for him it was hate.\"\n\n\"Said he that?  Nay, now, my father, thou seest I can not marry him.\"\nThere was relief in her voice, and she drew near to the fan-bearer and\ninvited his arms.  He sat down instead, and drawing up a stool with his\nfoot, bade her sit at his feet.\n\n\"Listen!  It is a whim of the Hathors to conceal one's own feelings\nfrom him at times, that he may accomplish his own undoing, being blind.\nMuch is at stake on thy love for the prince.  Awake, Masanath!  Thou\ndost love him; thou wilt wed him--and it shall go well with--all others\nwhom thou lovest.\"\n\n\"Wouldst use me for a price, my father--wouldst barter thy daughter for\nsomething?\" she asked in a tone low with apprehension.\n\n\"Ah, what inelegant words,\" he chid.  \"Thou dost miscall my purpose.\nLook, my daughter.  Have I not served thee with hand and heart all thy\nlife, asking nothing, sacrificing much?  I, for one, have a debt\nagainst thee, and thou canst pay it in thy marriage to Rameses.  Dost\nthou not love me enough to make me secure with the prince, and so,\nsecure in mine advisership to the king?\"\n\nMasanath arose slowly, as if her movements kept pace with the progress\nof her realizations.  Thus far she had been a loving and a believing\nchild.  The genial knavishness of her father had never appeared as such\nto her.  In her sight he was cheery, great and lovable.  Most of all\nshe had flattered herself that he loved her better than life, and that\nhis nights were sleepless in planning for her happiness.  Now, a\nterrifying lapse in his care, or a more terrifying display of his real\ncharacter, appalled her.\n\nHe had placed his demand in the most irresistible form, by calling upon\nher dutifulness.  Being obedient, she felt constrained to submit, but\nbeing spirited, with her heart already bestowed, she resisted.\n\nShe floundered wildly for testimony that would justify her rebellion in\nhis sight.  The memory of Ta-user's threats came to her as unexpected\nand unbidden as all inspirations come.\n\n\"Shall I hold thee in thy position at the expense of Egypt's peace, if\nnot at the expense of the dynasty?\" she cried.\n\n\"By the heaven-bearing shoulders of Buto!\" he responded laughingly,\n\"thou dost put a high estimate on the results of thine acts.  Add\nthereto, 'if not at the expense of the Pantheon,' and thou shalt have\nall heaven and earth at thy mercy.\"\n\n\"Nay, my father, hear me!  Thou knowest Ta-user--\"\n\n\"O, aye, I know Ta-user--all Egypt knows her--more particularly,\nRameses.\"\n\n\"Thou dost not fathom the evil in her--\"\n\n\"Her fangs are drawn, daughter.\"\n\n\"Hear me, father.  Last night, after Rameses--after he--after he left\nme, he met Ta-user.  And the talk between them was of such nature that\nshe knelt to him and he flung her off.  They were between me and mine\napartments, and I could not but know of it.  When he left her she made\nsuch threats that it were treason for me to give them voice again.\nWhat she asked of him I surmise.  It could not have been other than a\nprayer to him, to fulfil what was expected of him concerning her.  Thou\nknowest the breach between the Pharaoh and his brother, Amon-meses, is\nbut feebly bridged till Rameses shall heal the wound in marriage with\nTa-user.  His failure, added to the vehement contempt he displayed for\nher last night, shall make that breach ten times as deep and ever\nreceding, so there can be no healing of it.\"\n\nHar-hat flung his head back and laughed heartily.\n\n\"Thou timid child! frightened with the ravings of a discarded wanton.\nShe and her following of churls can do nothing against the Son of Ptah.\nThe moles in the necropolis are richer than they.  None of loyal Egypt\nwill espouse their cause, and without money how shall they get them\nmercenaries?  Nay, why vex thee with matters of state?  All that is\nrequired of thee is thy heart for Rameses, no more.\"\n\n\"Judge not for Rameses, I pray thee,\" she insisted, coming near him.\n\"Knowing that I love him not, perchance he might be gentler with\nTa-user did he see his peril.\"\n\nAgain Har-hat laughed.\n\n\"I am not blind, O little reluctant,\" he said.  \"I know the secret\nspring of thy concern for Egypt--for Ta-user--for Rameses.  I have not\ntold thee all the stake upon thy love for the prince.  Does it not seem\nthat since a maiden will not love one winsome man there must be another\nalready installed in her heart?\"\n\nShe drew back, changing color.\n\n\"How little of the court-lady thou art, Masanath,\" he broke oft,\nlooking at her face.  \"Thy sensations are too near the surface.  Thou\nmust teach thy face to dissemble.  It was this very eloquence of\ncountenance that betrayed thy foolish preferences.  Mind thee, I know\nit to be but a maiden fancy which, discouraged, dies.  But have a care\nlest it bring disaster upon him whom thou hast put in jeopardy of the\nfierce power of the prince.\"\n\nMasanath's eyes widened with terror.  The fan-bearer continued: \"I have\nbut to mention the name of Hotep--\"\n\nShe clutched at her heart.\n\n\"Ah?\" he observed with mild interrogation in the word.  \"How foolish\nthy caprice!  Hotep does not thank thee.  His marble spirit hath set\nits loves upon ink-pots and papyri and such pulseless things.  How I\nshould reproach myself if I must undo him--\"\n\n\"Nay, bring no disaster on the head of the noble Hotep,\" she begged.\n\"He--I--there is naught between us.\"\n\n\"It is even as I had thought.  I shall tell Rameses and send him to\nthee,\" he said, moving away.\n\nWith a bound she was between him and the door.\n\n\"If he ask tell him there is naught between me and the royal scribe,\nbut send him not hither,\" she commanded with vehemence.\n\n\"If thou art rebellious, Masanath, I must chasten thee.\"\n\n\"Threaten me not!\" she cried, thoroughly aroused, \"or by the Mother of\nHeaven, I shall demand audience with Meneptah and tell him what thou\nwouldst do.\"\n\n\"Bluster!\" he answered with an irritating laugh.\n\n\"Hast won the sanction of the Pharaoh for this betrothal?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Meneptah's will is clay in my hands,\" he replied contemptuously.\n\n\"Vex me further and I shall tell him that!\"\n\nHe caught her arm, and though the fierce grasp pinched her, she knew by\nthat she had gained a point.\n\n\"And further,\" she continued, gathering courage at each word, \"I shall\nask him why thou shouldst be so anxious to keep the breach between him\nand his brother and defeat his aims at peace.\"\n\nHis face blazed and he shook her, but she went on in wild triumph.  \"I\nhave a confederate in Rameses.  He loves thee not.  And I have but to\nhint and ruin thee beyond the restoring power of the marriages of a\nthousand daughters!\"\n\nHar-hat's forte had been polished insult, but when the evil in him\nwould have expressed itself in its own brutal manner he was helpless.\n\n\"Hotep--Hotep--\" he snarled.\n\nThe name was potent.  Again she recoiled.\n\n\"I shall yield him up to Rameses,\" he went on.\n\n\"And in that very hour thou dost, in that same hour will I charge thee\nwith treason before the throne of Meneptah!\" she returned recklessly.\n\nThe pair gazed at each other, breathless with temper.\n\n\"Wilt thou wed Rameses?\" he demanded.\n\n\"So thou wilt avoid the name of Hotep in the presence of Rameses and\nwilt shield him as if his safety were to bring thee gain,\" she replied,\nthrusting skilfully, \"I will wed the prince in one year.  Furthermore,\nin that time I shall be free to go where and when I please, to dwell\nwhere I please and to be vexed with the sight of thee or that royal\nmonster no more than is my desire.  Say, wilt thou accept?\"\n\nHe had twitted her about her frank face.  He could not tell now but\nthat she was fearless and had measured her strength.  He did not know\nthat within she trembled and felt that her threats were empty.  But,\nbeing guilty in his soul, and facing righteousness, Har-hat succumbed.\n\n\"Have it thy way, then, vixen,\" he exclaimed; \"but remember, I hold a\nheavy hand above thy head and Hotep's!\"\n\nHe strode out of her presence, and when she was sure he was gone, she\nfell on her face and wept miserably.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE HEIR INTERVENES\n\nAt Tanis, the next day after the arrival of Meneptah, there came a\nmessenger from Thebes to Hotep, and the royal scribe retired to his\napartments to read the letter.\n\nAnd after he had read he was glad that he had secluded himself, for his\ndemonstrations of relief at the news the message imparted were most\nextravagant and unrestrained.  For the moment he permitted no reminder\nof Kenkenes' present plight to subdue his joy in the realization that\nhis friend was not dead.\n\nHaving exulted, he read the letter again, and then he summoned all his\nshrewdness to his aid.\n\nHe would wait till the confusion of the court's settling itself had\nsubsided before he presented the petition to Meneptah.  Furthermore, he\nwould relieve his underlings and write the king's communications with\nhis own hand till he knew that the reply to Kenkenes had been sent.\nHar-hat should be watched vigilantly.\n\nBut order and routine were not restored in the palace of Meneptah.  The\nunrest that precedes a national crisis had developed into irritability\nand pugnacity.\n\nTanis was within hearing of the plaints of Israel, and the atmosphere\nquivered with omen and portent.  Moses appeared in this place and that,\neach time nearer the temporary capital, and wherever he came he left\nrejoicing or shuddering behind him.\n\nMeanwhile the fan-bearer laughed his way into the throne.  Meneptah's\nweakness for him grew into stubborn worship.  The old and trusted\nministers of the monarch took offense and sealed their lips; the new\nheld their peace for trepidation.  The queen, heretofore meek and\nself-effacing, laid aside her spindle one day and, meeting her lord at\nthe door of the council chamber; protested in the name of his dynasty\nand his realm.\n\nBut the king was beyond help, and the queen, angry and hurt, bade him\nkeep Har-hat out of her sight, and returned to her women.  Thereafter\neven Meneptah saw her rarely.\n\nThe rise of the fan-bearer was achieved in an incredibly short time.\nIt proved conclusively that until this period an influence against\nHar-hat had been at work upon Meneptah, and seeing that Rameses had\nsubsided, having cause to propitiate the father of the woman he would\nwed, the courtiers began to blame the prince and talk of him to one\nanother.\n\nHe seemed lost in a dream.  In the council chamber he lounged in his\nchair with his eyes upon nothing and apparently hearing nothing.  But\nthe slow shifting of the spark in his sleepy eyes indicated to those\nwho observed closely that he heard but kept his own counsel.  If\nMeneptah spoke to him he but seconded Har-hat's suggestions.  But once\nagain the observant ones noted that the fan-bearer did not advise at\nwide variance with any of the prince's known ideas.  Thus far the most\ncaviling could not see that Har-hat's favoritism had led to any\nmisrule, but the field of possibilities opened by his complete\ndominance over the Pharaoh was crowded with disaster, individual and\nnational.\n\nThe betrothal of Rameses to Har-hat's daughter gave further material\nfor contention.  It seemed to indicate that the fan-bearer had builded\nfor himself for two reigns.\n\nHotep's situation was most poignantly unhappy.  He was fixed under the\nsame roof with the man that had taken his love by piracy; he must greet\nhim affably and reverently every day; he must live in daily\ncontemplation of the time when he must meet Masanath also as his\nsovereign--the wife of the prince, whom he must serve till death.\nHardest of all, he must wear a serene countenance and cover his sorrow\nmost surely, for his own sake and for Masanath's.\n\nTa-user still remained at court.  Seti, in a fume of boyish indignation\nat Rameses, attended her like a shadow.  Among the courtiers there were\nothers who were not alive to the true nature of the princess and who\njoined Seti in his resentment against the heir.\n\nAmon-meses and Siptah, snarling and malevolent, had left the court\nabruptly on the morning of its departure for Tanis.  The Hak-heb\nreceived them once again, and an ominous calm settled over that little\npocket of fertility in the desert--Nehapehu.\n\nThus the court was torn with factions; old internal dissensions made\nthemselves evident again, but the vast murmur in Goshen was heard above\nthe strife.\n\nAll this had come to pass in the short space of a month.  When half of\nthat time had elapsed, Hotep, fearing to delay the petition of Kenkenes\nlonger, lest conditions should become worse rather than better, met the\nPharaoh in the hall one day and gave him the writing.  Earnestly the\nscribe impressed Meneptah with the importance of the petition and\nbegged him to acquaint himself in an hour of solitude with its contents\nand the identity of the supplicant.\n\nMeneptah promised and continued to his apartments.  There Har-hat came\nin a few moments, and Meneptah, after his custom, gave over to him the\nstate communications of the day, and after some little hesitation,\ntossed the petition of Kenkenes among them.\n\n\"Thou canst attend to this matter as well, good Har-hat.  Why should I\ntake up the private concerns of my subjects when I am already burdened\nwith heavy cares?  But do thou look to this petition faithfully.  It\nmay be important, and I know not from whom it is.  I promised Hotep it\nshould be given honest attention.\"\n\nFor seven days thereafter every letter sent by the king was written by\nHotep.  At the end of that time he met Meneptah again, and bending low\nbefore him, asked pardon for his insistence, and begged to know what\ndisposition the Son of Ptah had made of the petition of his friend.  He\nwas irritably informed that the matter had been given over to the\nfan-bearer for attention, since the Pharaoh had been too oppressed with\nheavier matters to read the letter.\n\nThe state of the scribe's mind, after receiving the information, was\nindescribable.\n\nHe controlled himself before Meneptah, but he suffered no curb upon his\nfeelings when he had returned to his own apartments.  After a long time\nhe succeeded in choking his anger, disgust and grief, realizing that\neach moment must be turned to account rather than wasted in railing.\n\nHe viewed the situation with enforced calm.  Har-hat was in full\npossession of the facts.  He had the signet and was absolute master of\nMeneptah.  The Hathors had surrendered Kenkenes wholly into the hands\nof his enemy.  Furthermore, the fate of the Israelite seemed to be\nsealed.  At the thought Hotep gnashed his teeth.\n\nIn his sympathy for his friend's strait, the scribe gave over his\nobjections to Rachel.  Kenkenes had suffered for her, and, if he would,\nhe should have her.\n\nBetween the king and persuasion was Har-hat, vitally interested in the\ndefeat of any movement toward the aid of Kenkenes.  The one hope for\nthe sculptor was the winning over of the Pharaoh, and only one could do\nit.  And that was Rameses, who was betrothed to the love of Hotep, and\nagainst her will.\n\nNothing could have appeared more distasteful to the scribe than the\nnecessity of prayer to the man for whom he cherished a hate that\nthreatened to make a cinder of his vitals.  But the more he rebelled\nthe more his conscience urged him.\n\nHe flung himself on his couch and writhed; he reviled the Hathors,\nabused Kenkenes for the folly of sacrilege which had brought on him\nsuch misfortune; he execrated Meneptah, anathematized Har-hat and\ncalled down the fiercest maledictions on the head of Rameses.  Having\nrelieved himself, he arose and, summoning his servant, had his\ndisordered hair dressed, fresh robes brought for him, and a glass of\nwine for refreshment.  On the way to the palace-top he met Ta-user,\nwalking slowly away from the staircase.  Rameses, solitary and\nluxurious, was stretched upon a cushioned divan in the shadow of a\ncanopy over the hypostyle.\n\n\"The gods keep thee, Son of the Sun,\" Hotep said.\n\n\"So it is thou, Hotep.  Nay, but I am glad to see thee.  Methought\nTa-user meant to visit me just now.  Is there a taboret near?\"\n\n\"Aye, but I shall not sit, my Prince.\"\n\n\"Go to!  It makes me weary to see thee stand.  Sit, I tell thee!\"\n\nHotep drew up the taboret and sat.\n\n\"I come to thee with news and a petition,\" he began.  \"It is more\nfitting that I should kneel.\"\n\n\"Perchance.  But exertion offends mine eyes in such delicious hours as\nthese, and I will forego the homage for the sake of mine own sinews.\nOut with thy tidings.\"\n\n\"Thou dost remember thy friend and mine, that gentle genius, Kenkenes.\"\n\n\"I am not like to forget him so long as a bird sings or the Nile\nripples make music.  Osiris pillow him most softly.\"\n\n\"He is not dead, my Prince.\"\n\n\"Nay!\" Rameses cried, sitting up.  \"The knave should be bastinadoed for\nthe tears he wrung from us!\"\n\n\"Thou wouldst deny my petition.  I am come to implore thee to intercede\nfor him.\"\n\nRameses bade him proceed.\n\n\"Thou art acquainted with the nature of Kenkenes, O Prince.  He is a\nvisionary--an idealist, and so firmly rooted are his beliefs that they\nare to his life as natural as the color of his eyes.  He is a\nbeauty-worshiper.  Athor possesses him utterly, and her loveliness\nblinds him to all other things, particularly to his own welfare and\nsafety.\n\n\"In the beginning he fell in love, and a soul like his in love is most\nunreasoning, immoderate and terribly faithful.  The maiden is\nbeautiful--I saw her--most divinely beautiful.  She is wise, for I saw\nthat also.  She is good, for I felt it, unreasoning, and when a man\nhath a woman intuition, a god hath spoken the truth to his heart.  But\nshe is a slave--an Israelite.\"\n\n\"An Israelite!\"\n\nHotep bowed his head.\n\n\"By the gods of my fathers, I ought not to marvel!  Nay, now, is that\nnot like the boy?  An Israelite!  And half the noble maids of Memphis\nmad for him!\"\n\n\"He is not for thee and me to judge, O Rameses,\" Hotep interrupted.\n\"The gods blew another breath in him than animates our souls.  For thee\nand me such conduct would be the fancies of madmen; for Kenkenes it is\nbut living up to the alien spirit with which the gods endowed him.  It\nmight be torture for him to wed according to our lights.\"\n\n\"Perchance thou art right.  Go on.\"\n\n\"It seems that Har-hat looked upon the girl, and taken by her beauty,\nasked her at the Pharaoh's hands for his harem.\"\n\n\"Ah, the--!  Why does he not marry honorably?\"\n\n\"It is not for me to divine,\" Hotep went on calmly.  \"The fan-bearer\nsent his men to take her, but she fled from them to Kenkenes, and he\nprotected her--hid her away--where, none but Kenkenes and the maiden\nknow.  Har-hat is most desirous of owning her, but Kenkenes keeps his\ncounsel.  Therefore, Har-hat overtook him in Tape, where he went to get\na signet belonging to his father, and imprisoned him till what time he\nshould divulge the hiding-place of the Israelite.\"\n\n\"Never was there a true villain till Har-hat was born!  What poor\nfeeble shadows have trodden the world for knaves before the fan-bearer\ncame.  Go on.  Hath he put him to torture yet?\"\n\n\"Aye, from the beginning, though not by the bastinado.  He rends him\nwith suspense and all the doubts and fears for his love that can haunt\nhim in his cell.  But I have more to tell.  There was a signet, an\nall-potent signet, which belonged to the noble Mentu--\"\n\n\"Aye, I remember,\" Rameses broke in.  \"My grandsire gave it to the\nmurket in recognition of his great work, Ipsambul.  It commands royal\nfavor in the name of Osiris.  That should help the dreamer out of his\ndifficulty.\"\n\n\"Aye, it should, my Prince, but it did not.  Kenkenes sent it to the\nPharaoh, with a petition for his own freedom, but the cares of state\nwere so pressing that the Son of Ptah gave the letter, unopened, to\nHar-hat for attention.\"\n\nRameses laughed harshly.\n\n\"Kenkenes would better content himself.  The Hathors are against him,\"\nhe cried.  \"Was there ever such consummate misfortune?  What more?\"\n\n\"Is it not enough, O Rameses?\" Hotep answered sternly.  \"He hath\nsuffered sufficiently.  Now is it time for them, who profess to love\nhim, to bestir themselves in his behalf.  Thou knowest how near the\nfan-bearer is to the Pharaoh.  Persuasion can not reach the king that\nworketh against Har-hat.  Thou alone art as potent with the Son of\nPtah.  Wilt thou not prove thy love for Kenkenes and aid him?\"\n\nRameses did not answer immediately.  Thoughtfully he leaned his elbow\non his knee and stroked his forehead with his hand.  His black brows\nknitted finally.\n\n\"My hands are tied, Hotep,\" he began bluntly.  \"I permit the sway of\nthis knave over my father because I am constrained.  Till he begins to\nachieve confusion or bring about bad government I must let him alone.\nThere is no love between us.  We have no quarrel, but I despise him for\nthat very spirit in him which makes him do such things as thou hast\neven told me.  If his offense had been against Egypt or the king or\nmyself, I could balk him.  But this is a matter of personal interest to\nhim, which would be open and flagrant interference--\"\n\nHotep broke in earnestly.\n\n\"Surely so small a matter of courtesy--if such it may be called--should\nnot stand between thee and this most pressing need.\"\n\n\"Aye, thou hast said--if it were only a small matter of courtesy.  But\nthe breach of that same small courtesy entails great disaster for me.\nThou knowest, O my Hotep, that I am betrothed to the daughter of\nHar-hat.\"\n\nWith great effort Hotep kept a placid face.\n\n\"The Lady Masanath would abet him who would aid Kenkenes,\" he said.\n\n\"Even so.  But hear me, I pray thee, Hotep.  This most rapacious\nmiscreant would hold his favor with the king.  He knew I loved\nMasanath, and he held her out of my reach till I should consent to\ncountenance his advisership to my father.  I consented--and should I\nlapse, I lose Masanath.\"\n\nHotep was on his feet by this time, his face turned away.  Rameses\ncould not guess what a tempest raged in his heart.\n\n\"But be thou assured,\" the prince continued grimly, \"that only so long\nas Masanath is not yet mine, shall I endure him.  After that he shall\nfall as never knave fell or so deserved to fall before.  Aye,--but\nstay, Hotep.  I have not done.  I have some small grain of hope for\nthis unfortunate friend of ours.  The marriage hath been delayed.  I\nshall press my suit, and wed Masanath sooner, if she will, and Kenkenes\nneed not decay in prison--\"\n\nHotep did not stay longer.  He bowed and departed without a word.\n\n\"Out upon the man, I offered all I could,\" Rameses muttered, but\nimmediately he arose and hurried to the well of the stairway.\n\n\"Hotep!\" he called.  The scribe, half-way down, turned and looked up.\n\n\"Return to me in an hour.  Give me time to ponder and I may more\nprofitably help thee,\" the prince commanded.  Hotep bowed and went on.\n\nThe hour was barely long enough for the smarting soul of the scribe to\nsoothe itself.  Deep, indeed, his love for Kenkenes that he returned at\nall.  Masanath's name, spoken so familiarly, so boastingly, by the\nprince was fresh outrage to his already affronted heart.  It mattered\nnot that Rameses did not know.  His talk of marriage with Masanath was\nexultation, nevertheless.  Once again, Hotep flung himself on his couch\nand wrestled with his spirit.\n\nAt the end of the hour, he went once again to Rameses.  He was calm and\ncomposed, but he made no apology for his abrupt departure, when last he\nwas there.  Perhaps, however, he gained in the respect of Rameses by\nthat lapse.  The blunt prince was more patient with the sincere than\nwith the diplomatic.\n\n\"Thou hast said,\" the prince began immediately, \"that Har-hat hath\nimprisoned Kenkenes till what time he shall divulge the hiding-place of\nthe Israelite?\"\n\nHotep bowed.\n\n\"The fan-bearer charges him with slave-stealing?\"\n\n\"And sacrilege,\" the scribe added.  The prince opened his eyes.  \"Aye,\nKenkenes carried his beauty-love into blasphemy.  He executed a statue\nof Athor in defiance of the sculptor's ritual.  For this also, Har-hat\nholds a heavy hand over him.\"\n\n\"A murrain on the lawless dreamer!\" Rameses muttered.  \"Is there\nanything more?\"\n\nHotep shook his head.\n\n\"He deserves his ill-luck.  Mark me, now.  He will not go mad with a\nyear's imprisonment, and he will profit by it.  Furthermore, he can not\nbe persuaded into betraying the Israelite, if he knows how long and how\nmuch he will have to endure.  Once sentenced, Har-hat can add nothing\nmore thereto.  Has he confessed?\"\n\n\"To me, he did.  I know not what he said to the Pharaoh.  But the\nGoddess Ma broodeth on the lips of Kenkenes.\"\n\nRameses nodded, and clapped his hands.  The attendant that appeared he\nordered to bring the scribe's writing-case and implements.  When the\nservant returned, Hotep, at a sign from Rameses, prepared to write.\n\n\"Write thus to the jailer at Tape:\n\n\"'By order of the crown prince, Rameses, the prisoner, Kenkenes, held\nfor slave-stealing and sacrilege, is sentenced to imprisonment for one\nyear--'\"\n\nHotep lifted his pen, and looked his rebellion.\n\n\"Write!\" the prince exclaimed.  \"I do him a kindness, with a lesson\nadded.  Were it in my power to free him I would not--till he had\nlearned that the law is inexorable and the power of its ministers\nsupreme.  Go on--'at such labor as the prisoner may elect.  No further\npunishment may be added thereto.'  Affix my seal and send this without\nfail.  Thou canst write whatever thou wilt to Kenkenes.  For the\nIsraelite, I shall not concern myself.  The nearer friends to Kenkenes\nmay look to her.  Mine shall be the care only to see that they are not\nharassed by the fan-bearer.  In this, I fulfil the law.  Let Har-hat\nhelp himself.\"\n\nHe dropped back on his divan and Hotep slowly collected his writing\nmaterials and made ready to depart.  Having finished, he lingered a\nlittle.\n\n\"A word further, O Rameses.  Kenkenes is proud.  He would liefer die\nthan suffer the humiliation of public shame.  Memphis believes him\ndead.  None but thyself, Har-hat, the noble Mentu and I know of his\nplight.  Har-hat hath no call to tell it.  Mentu will not; I shall not.\nWilt thou keep his secret also, my Prince?\"\n\n\"Far be it from me to humiliate him publicly.  Let him have a care,\nhereafter, that he does not humiliate himself.\"\n\n\"I thank thee, O Rameses.\"\n\nSaluting the prince, Hotep departed.\n\nThat night he wrote to Kenkenes and to Mentu, and the two messengers\ndeparted ere midnight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nTHE IDOLS CRUMBLE\n\nMeanwhile Kenkenes seldom saw a human face.  Food and water in red clay\nvessels, bearing the seal of Thebes, were set inside his door by\ndisembodied hands.  At intervals he saw the keeper, always attended by\nthe inevitable scribe, but the visit was a matter of inspection and\nrarely was the prisoner addressed.\n\nThough he grew to expect these visits, each time the bar rattled down\nhe trembled with the hope that the jailer brought him freedom.  Each\nsuccessive disappointment was as acute as the last, made more poignant\nby the torturing certainty that his hopes were vain.  The effect of one\nwas not at all counteracted by the other.\n\nSome time after dawn the sun thrust a golden bar, full of motes, across\nthe door, a foot above his head.  In a space the beam was withdrawn.\nThe heat and dust of the midday came, instead.  Gnats wove their mazes\nin the narrow casement that opened on the outside world, and now and\nthen the twitter of birds sounded very close to it.  Kenkenes knew how\nthey flashed as they flew in the sun.  They were prodigal of freedom.\nAt nightfall, if he stood at full height against the door, he could see\na thread of cooling sky with a single star in its center.\n\nThis was all his knowledge of the world.  Hour after hour he paced the\nnarrow length of the cell, till the circumscribed round made him dizzy.\nIf he flung himself on his straw pallet, he did not rest.  The mind has\nno charity for the body.  If there is to be no mental repose it is vain\nto hope for physical.  When the inactivity of his uneasy pallet became\nintolerable, he resumed his pace.\n\nHe expected the return of his messenger in twenty days after the man's\ndeparture.  At the expiration of that time his suspense and\napprehension became more and more desperate at the passing of each new\nday.  In rapid succession he accepted and rejected the thought that the\nmessenger had played him false, had been assassinated and robbed; that\nMeneptah had recalled the signet, or had added the penalty of suspense\nto his indorsement of Har-hat's fiat of imprisonment.\n\nWhen the climax of his sensations was reached, his self-sufficiency\ncollapsed and he entered into ceaseless supplication of the gods.  He\nvowed costly sacrifices to them, adding promises of self-abnegation\nwhich became more comprehensive as his distress increased.  At the end\nof a month he had consecrated everything at his command.  Then he\nsubsided into a numb endurance till what time his prayers should be\nanswered.\n\nEight days later, about mid-afternoon, while he lay on his pallet, the\ndoor was flung open and his messenger stood without.  With a cry,\nKenkenes leaped to his feet and wrenched the scroll from the man's\nhand.  With unsteady fingers he ripped off the linen cover and read.\n\nThe letter was from Hotep, conveying such information regarding his\nimprisonment as we already know.  If was couched in the gentlest terms,\nand contained that essence of hope which loving spirits can extract\nfrom the most desperate situation, for another's sake.  But for all the\nkindly intent of the scribe, his news was none the less unhappy.  The\ndreaded had come to pass, and the war between hope and fear was at an\nend.  Kenkenes read the missive calmly, and paid the messenger\naccording to his promise.  The jailer, who had come with the man, read\nthe sentence and bade the prisoner make his choice of labor.\n\n\"Anything, so it will but give me a glimpse of the horizon,\" he said.\n\n\"Thou wilt pay dearly for thy sky,\" the keeper cautioned him.  \"The\nsoftest labor is within doors.\"\n\n\"Give me my wish according to the command of the prince.\"\n\nThe jailer shrugged his shoulders.  \"As thou wilt.  Make ready to\nfollow the canal-workers, to-morrow.\"\n\nWhen the door fell shut again, Kenkenes returned to his pallet and\nre-read the scroll.\n\nA year's imprisonment!  The sentence defined was the sum of daily\nshame, sorrow, homesickness and misanthropy.  Shame in the proud man\nadmits of no degrees of intensity.  If it exist at all, it is\nsuperlative.  To this was added the loss of Rachel.  How little it\nwould take to satisfy him, now that she was wholly denied to his eyes!\nOnly to look down on her again, unseen, from his aery in the rocks over\nthe valley!\n\nHotep had offered him hope, based on circumstantial evidence and fact.\nHar-hat could not add to his sentence.  That was the only indisputable\ncheer he could give.  But would Rameses stay the chief adviser's hand,\nseeing that the winning of Masanath depended on the prince's\nneutrality, as Hotep had explained?  If Rachel fled to Mentu, as\nKenkenes had bidden her, could the murket protect her, even at his own\nperil?  Might not the heavy hand of the powerful favorite fall also on\nthe head of the king's architect?  Wherein was the murket more immune\nthan his son?  Rachel's destruction seemed to be decreed by the Hathors.\n\nSuch was his thought, and he raised himself to curse the Seven Sisters,\nand growing reckless, he included the unhelpful gods in his\nmaledictions.  The blasphemy comforted him strangely, and he persisted\ntill his heated brain was cooled.\n\nAt dawn the next day he laid aside his fillet of gold, his trappings\nand noble dress, and donning the kilt or shenti of the prisoners, was\nhandcuffed to another malefactor and taken forth to the sun-white plain\nbetween Thebes Diospolis and the Arabian, hills, to labor in the canals\nof the nome.\n\nHere, looking continually upon crime, brutality and misery, he asked\nhimself the divine motive in creating man, and having found no answer,\nhe began to question man's debt to the gods.\n\nHe was going the way of all the weak in faith.  He had pleaded with his\ndeities, and they had not heard him.  He asked himself what he had done\nto deserve their disfavor.  The sacrilege of Athor was too slight an\noffense--if offense it were--and here again he paused, set his teeth\nand swore that he had done no wrong and the god or man that accused him\nwas impotent, unjust and ignorant.  Once again he asked himself what he\nhad done to deserve ill-use at the hands of the Pantheon.  They had\nturned a deaf ear to him, and why should he render them further homage?\nThe doctrine of divine Love, displayed through chastisement, was not in\nthe Osirian creed.\n\nHis eyes grew bold through rebellion and he attacked the wild\ninconsistencies of the faith with the destructive instrument of reason.\nEach deduction led him on, fascinated, in his apostasy.  Each crumbling\ntenet started another toward ruin.  Finding no sound obstacle to stay\nhim, he fell with avidity to rending the Pantheon.\n\nBut he found no cheer nor any hope that day when he told himself\nbitterly, \"There is no God.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE PLAGUES\n\nThe court was gone and Masanath was making the most of each day of her\nfreedom.  Memphis was in a state of apathy, worn out by revel and\nemptied of her luminaries, Ta-meri, intoxicated with the importance of\nher position as lady-in-waiting to the queen, had departed with her\nhusband, the cup-bearer.  Io had returned to her home in On, with an\nache in her brave little heart that outweighed even Masanath's for\nheaviness.  The last of Seti's lover-like behavior toward her dated\nback to a time before the court had gone to Thebes--long, long ago.\n\nTa-user, also, had gone, but the fan-bearer's daughter did not regret\nher.  The other ladies who remained in Memphis, frightened at the\nloftiness of Masanath's future, were uneasy in her presence and seemed\nmore inclined to bend the knee before her than to continue the girlish\ncompanionship that had once been between them.\n\nSo she must entertain herself, if she were entertained at all.\n\nFor a time after the departure of Meneptah, Masanath had given herself\nup to tears and gloom.  When she had worn out her grief, the elastic\nspirit of youth reasserted itself and once again she was as cheerful as\nshe felt it becoming to be under the circumstances.\n\nThe fan-bearer had taken a house for his daughter's use, during her\nyear of solitary residence, and her own servants, a lady-in-waiting,\nthe devoted Nari, Pepi, a courier and upper servant, lean, brown and\ntaciturn, and several slaves, both black and white, had been left with\nher.  The older daughter of the fan-bearer lived with her husband in\nPelusium.  Her home could have been an asylum for the younger, but\nMasanath was determined to know one year of absolute independence\nbefore she entered the long bondage of queenship.\n\nIt was now the middle of June, the height of Egyptian summer.  In a\nlittle space the marshes, which had been, for eight months, favorite\nhaunts of fowlers, would be submerged, for the inundation was not far\naway.\n\nMasanath would hunt for wild-duck and marsh-hen, while there was yet\ntime.\n\nIt was an hour after sunrise.  Her raft, built of papyrus, was\nboat-shaped and graceful as a swan.  Pepi was at the long-handled sweep\nin the stern.  Masanath sat in the middle, which was heaped with nets,\nthrow-sticks, and bows and arrows.  A pair of decoy birds, tame and\nunfettered, stood near her, craning their small heads, puzzled at the\nmovement of the boat which was undecipherable since they were\nmotionless.  Nari sat in the prow, her hands folded, her face quite\nexpressionless.  The service of the day was out of the routine, but as\na good servant, she was capable of adapting herself to the change.\n\nThe little craft darted away from the painted landing for pleasure\nboats, and reaching midstream, was turned toward the north.  The\ncurrent caught it and swept it along like a leaf.\n\nAs they passed the stone wharf at Masaarah, Nari looked toward the\nquarries with a show of interest on her face.  She even caught her\nbreath to speak.  Masanath noted her animation.\n\n\"What is it, Nari?\"\n\n\"Naught but a bit of gossip that came to mine ears, last night, and the\nsight of Masaarah urged me to tell it again.  It is said the Hebrews of\nthese quarries rose against the new driver and drove him out of the\ncamp, crying, 'Return us our Atsu, return us our Atsu.'\"\n\n\"What folly!\" Masanath exclaimed.  \"If they had been the host which\ncrowds Goshen to her bounds, it might serve.  But this handful in\nrebellion against Egypt!  The military of the Memphian nome will crush\nthem as if they had been so many ants.\"\n\n\"I know,\" the serving-woman admitted.  \"The soldier I had it from, said\nthat the city commandant would move against them by noon this day.\"\n\n\"The gods help them!\" Pepi put in.\n\n\"Thy prayer is too late, Pepi,\" Masanath answered.  \"The gods should\nhave cautioned them ere they took the step.  And yet,\" she continued,\nmusing, \"straits may become so sore that aught but endurance is\nwelcome.\"\n\nHer servants looked at her and at each other, understanding.\n\nNari went on:\n\n\"But the soldier told me further that the Israelites had spent the\nnight chanting and dancing before their God, and it seems from this\nspot that the quarries are empty.  They do not fear, boasting their\nGod's care.\"\n\nMasanath shook her head.  \"He must look to them at once, ere the\nsoldiery fall upon them.  His time for aid is short,\" she said.\n\nA silence fell, and the raft passed below Masaarah.  Again Nari spoke,\nproving that she had heard and thought upon the last words of her\nmistress.\n\n\"Are not the gods omnipotent and everywhere?\"\n\n\"Aye, so hast thou been taught, Nari.\"\n\n\"Our gods, and the gods of every nation like them?\" the serving-woman\npersisted.\n\n\"The gods of Egypt are so, and each nation boasts its gods equally\npotent.\"\n\n\"Mayhap the Hebrews' God will help them,\" Nari ventured.\n\nMasanath was silent for a moment.  \"He hath deserted them for long,\"\nshe said at last, \"but they are hard-pressed.  Mayhap their loud\nsupplications will reach Him in His retreat.\"\n\n\"They boast that He hath returned.\"\n\n\"Let Him prove Himself,\" Masanath insisted stoutly.\n\nWhen next she spoke there was no hint of the past serious talk in her\nvoice.\n\n\"A pest on the ban,\" she exclaimed.  \"Look at the Marsh of the\nDiscontented Soul.  It fairly swarms with teal and coot, and see the\nsnipe on the sand.\"  She stood up and watched the sandy strip they were\nnearing.  They were a goodly distance out from the shore, but Pepi\npoled nearer midstream.  \"The pity of it,\" she sighed; \"but I doubt not\nthe place swarms with crocodile, also.\"\n\nShe sat down again, and looked at the decoy birds.  Their timidity had\nincreased into actual fear.  Masanath reached a soothing hand toward\none of them and it fled.  The motion of the poling-arm of Pepi\nfrightened it again, and with a flirt of its wings it retreated toward\nMasanath.\n\n\"Stop a moment, Pepi,\" she said.  \"Let me quiet this frightened thing.\nI can not fathom its terror.\"\n\n\"The unquiet soul, my Lady,\" Nari whispered, in awe.\n\n\"Strange that the gods gifted the creatures with keener sight than\nmen,\" Masanath answered, somewhat disturbed.  She moved toward the\nbird, talking softly, but the persuasion was as useless as if the decoy\nhad been a wild thing.  At the nearer approach of the small hand it\ntook wings and flew.  The mate followed, unhesitating.  The shining\ndistance toward the west swallowed them up.\n\nThe trio on the raft looked at one another.\n\n\"Nay, now, saw ye the like before?\" Masanath exclaimed, the tone of her\nvoice divided between astonishment and irritation at the loss of her\npets.\n\n\"Let us leave this vicinity,\" Pepi said, suiting the action to the\nword, \"it is unholy.\"  He seized the sweep and drove the raft about,\npoling with wide strokes.  At that moment, a cry, which was more of a\nhoarse whisper, broke from his lips.\n\n\"Body of Osiris!  The river! the river!\"\n\nMasanath leaned on one hand and looked over the side of the raft.  With\na bound and a shivering cry, Nari was cowering beside her, the little\ncraft tossing on the waves at the force of the leap.  Instantly, Pepi\nwas at her other side, on his knees, praying and shaking.  And together\nthe trio huddled, but only one, Masanath, was brave enough to watch\nwhat was happening.\n\nFrom the bottom of the Nile a turbid convection was taking place, as if\nthe river silt had been stirred up, but the fuming current was assuming\na dull red tinge.  The action had been rapid.  Already the stain had\npredominated, streaks of clear water, only here and there, clarifying\nthe opaque coloring.  The boat rode half its depth in red, the paddle\ndripped red, the splashes of water within on the bottom were red, the\nsun shone broadly into the mirroring red, a sliding, reeking red!  A\nlavender foam broke its bubbles against the drifting raft and a tepid,\ninvisible vapor, like a moist breath, exhaled from the ensanguined\nsurface.\n\nSchools of fish, struggling and leaping, filled the space immediately\nabove the water, and cumbered the raft with a writhing mass.\nNumberless crocodiles bounded into the air, braying, snorting, rending\none another and churning the river into froth by their hideous battle.\nDwellers of the deep water drifted into the upper tide--monsters of the\nmuck at the Nile bottom, turtles, huge crawfish, water-newts, spotted\nsnakes, curious bleached creatures that had never seen the day, great\ndrifts of insects, with frogs, tadpoles--everything of aquatic animate\nlife, came up dead or dying terribly.  Along either bank water-buffalo\nand wallowing swine, which had been in the pools near the river,\nclambered ponderously, snorting at every step.\n\nVessels were putting about and flying for the shore.  From the prow of\none tall boat, with distended sails, a figure was seen to spring high\nand disappear under the red torrent.  Rioting crews of river-men fought\nfor first landing at the accessible places on the banks.  Memphis\nshrieked and the pastures became compounds of wild beasts that deafened\nheaven with their savage bellowing.\n\nPepi and Nari had no thought of saving themselves.  It was Masanath who\nmust save them.  They clung to her, dragging her down with their arms\nwhen she attempted to rise.  Bereft of reason, they made the liquid\nechoes of the river ring with wild cries of mortal terror.\n\nMasanath had sufficient instinct left to urge her to fly.  With a\nmighty effort she shook off her servants and sprang to the sweep.\nInstantly they made to follow her, but she threatened them with a\nhunting-stick.  The combined weight of the three in the stern would\nhave swamped the frail boat.\n\nSeizing the sweep she poled with superhuman strength toward the nearest\nshore--the Marsh of the Discontented Soul.  If she remembered the\nspirit, she forgot her fear of it.  Any terror was acceptable other\nthan isolation on this mile-wide torrent of blood.\n\nThe raft grounded, and as a viscous wash of red lapped across it, she\nleaped forth, landing with both feet in the horror.  She floundered out\nand crying to her servants to follow her, fled like a mad thing up the\nsandy stretch toward the distant wall of rock.\n\nThe boat, lightened of her weight, received a backward thrust as she\nleaped, and drifted out of the reeds.  The heavy current caught it and\nswept it across the smitten river to the Memphian shore.  It bore two\ninsensible figures.\n\nMasanath ran, thinking only to leave the ghastly flood behind.  Her wet\nover-dress flapped about her ankles.  It, too, was stained, and she\ntore if off as she ran.  Ahead of her was a sagging limestone wall,\nwith no gap, but Masanath, hardly sane, would have dashed herself\nagainst it, if hands had not detained her.\n\n\"Blood!  Blood!\" she shrieked.  \"Holy Ptah save us!\"\n\n\"Peace!\" some one made answer.  \"God is with us.\"\n\nThe voice was calm and reassuring, the hands firm.  Here, then, was one\nwho was strong and unafraid, and therefore, a safe refuge.  No longer\ncalled upon to care for herself, Masanath fell into the arms of the\nbrave unknown and ceased to remember.\n\nConsciousness returned to her slowly and incompletely.  Horror had\ndazed her, and her surroundings, but faintly discovered in an\nall-enveloping gloom, were not conducive to mental repose and clearness.\n\nShe became aware, first, that she was somewhere hidden from the\nsunshine and beyond reach of the strange odor from the Nile.\n\nNext she realized that she was sheltered in a cave; that slender lines\nof white daylight sifted through the interstices of a door; that a lamp\nwas burning somewhere behind a screen; that a hairy thing sat in a\ncorner and looked at her with half-human eyes, and that, as she shrank\nat the sight, the warm support under her head moved and a fair face,\nframed with golden hair, bent over her.\n\nThen her eyes, becoming clearer as her recollection returned, wandered\naway toward the walls of her shelter.  They had been hewn by hands.\nThere was an opening in one side, leading into another and a darker\ncrypt.  Was not this a tomb?  She was in the Tomb of the Discontented\nSoul!  Terrified, she struggled to gain her feet and fly, but the awful\nmemory of the plague without returned to her overwhelmingly.  Gentle\nhands restrained her, and the same voice that had sought to soothe her\nbefore, continued its soft comforting now.\n\n\"Thou art safe and sheltered,\" she heard.  \"No evil shall befall thee.\"\n\nWas this the spirit of the tomb?  If so, it was most lovely and kindly.\nBut a solemn voice issued out of the dark cell beyond.  This was the\nspirit, of a surety.  She cowered against her fair-haired protector and\nshuddered.  But the maiden answered the voice in a strange tongue.\nMasanath would have known it to be Hebrew, had she been composed.  But\nnow it was mystic, cabalistic.\n\nPresently the maiden addressed her.\n\n\"Deborah asks after thee, Lady.  How shall I tell her thou findest\nthyself?\"\n\n\"Oh, I can not tell,\" Masanath answered.  \"What has happened?  Is it\ntrue or did I go mad?\"\n\nThe Israelite smoothed her hair.  \"It is a plague,\" she said.\n\n\"Then the hand of Amenti is on us,\" the Egyptian shuddered.  \"Whither\nshall we flee?\"\n\n\"Ye can not flee from the One God,\" the voice from the crypt said\ngrimly.\n\n\"Nay, but what have I done to vex the gods?\" Masanath insisted.  \"O let\nme go hence.  Where are my servants?\"\n\n\"It is better for thee to bide here,\" the voice went on relentlessly.\n\"For outside the sheltering neighborhood of the chosen people, the hand\nof the outraged God shall overtake Egypt and scorch her throat with\nthirst and make her veins congeal for want of water.\"\n\nMasanath gained her feet, crying out wildly:\n\n\"My servants!  Where are they?  Let me forth.\"\n\nThe Israelite put an assuring arm about her.  \"Thou wilt not dare to\nface the Nile again,\" she warned.  \"Stay with us.\"\n\n\"To starve!  To perish of thirst!  To die of pestilence!  The gods have\nleft us.  We are undone!\"\n\n\"Aye, the gods have left you,\" the voice continued harshly.  \"Ye are\ngiven over to the vengeance of the God of Abraham.  Howl, Egypt!  Rend\nthyself and cover thy head with ashes.  Thy destruction is but begun.\nFor a hundred years thou hast oppressed Israel.  Now is the hour of the\nchildren of God!\"\n\nMasanath wrung her hands, but the voice went on.\n\n\"As the Nile flows, so hath the blood of Israel been wasted by the hand\nof Egypt.  Now shall the God of Abraham drain her veins, even so, drop\nfor drop.  For the despoiling of Israel shall her pastures and stables\nbe filled with stricken beasts--for the heavy hand of the Pharaohs\nshall the heavens thunder and scourges fall.  And the wrath of God\nshall cool not till Egypt is a waste, shorn of her corn and her\nvineyards and her riches, and foul with dead men.\"\n\nNothing could have been more vindictive than this disembodied voice.\nMasanath thrust her fingers through her hair, and drawing her elbows\nforward, sheltered her face with them.\n\n\"When have I offended against the Hebrew?\" she cried, sick with terror.\n\"Why should your awful God destroy the innocent and the friend of\nIsrael among the people of Egypt?\"\n\nRachel, who had stood beside her, with an increasing cloud on her face,\nnow spoke in Hebrew.  There was mild protest in her tones.\n\n\"The plague will pass,\" the voice from the inner crypt continued.\n\"Seven days will it endure, no more.\"\n\n\"Deborah is mystic,\" Rachel added softly, \"and is gifted with prophetic\neyes.  Much hath she suffered at Egypt's hands, and her tongue grows\nharsh when she speaks of the oppression.\"\n\n\"Nay, but let me go,\" Masanath begged.  \"Where are my servants?  Came\nthey not after me when I fled?\"\n\n\"None followed thee, Lady, and thy raft went adrift.\"\n\n\"Let me out of this hideous place, then, for I must seek them.  They\nmay be dead.\"\n\nHer tone was imperious, and Rachel, silently obedient, led her to the\nentrance and pushed aside the door.  Instantly the terrible turmoil\nover Egypt smote upon her ears; next she saw the Nile, moving slowly,\nblack where its clear surfaces had been green, scarlet and froth-ridden\nwhere the sun had shone upon transparent ripples and white foam; after\nthat, the strange odor came to her, recalling the smell of the altars,\nbut now magnified till it was overpoweringly strong.  She sickened and\nturned away.\n\nSetting the door in place, Rachel led her back into a corner of the\nouter chamber and laid her down on the matting there.\n\n\"The Lord God will care for thy servants.  Fret thyself no further, but\nbe content here until the horror shall pass.  I shall attend thee, so\nthou shalt not miss their ministrations.\"  The Israelite spoke with\ngentle authority, smoothing the dark hair of her guest.  Command in the\nform of persuasion is doubly effective, since it induces while it\ncompels.  Masanath was most amenable to this manner of entreaty, since\nit disarmed her pride while it governed her impulses.  Thus, though her\ninclination urged against it, she ate when the Israelite brought her a\nbit of cold fowl and a beaker of wine at midday and again at sunset.\nAnd at night, she slept because the Israelite told her she was safe and\nbade her close her eyes.\n\nBut once she awoke.  The lamp burned behind a wooden amphora rack and\nthe interior of the stone chamber was not dark.  The voice in the inner\nchamber was still and the human-eyed beast in the corner was now only a\nsmall hairy roll.  In the silence she would have been dismayed, but\nclose beside her sat the Israelite.  One hand toyed absently with the\ngolden rings of a collar about her throat.  The face was averted, the\nhair unplaited and falling in a shower of bright ripples over the bosom\nand down the back.  The beauty of the picture impressed itself on\nMasanath, in spite of her drowsiness.  But as well as the beauty, the\ndejection in the droop of the head, the unhappiness on the face, were\napparent even in the dusk.  Here was sorrow--the kind of sorrow that\neven the benign night might not subdue.  Masanath was well acquainted\nwith such vigils as the golden Israelite seemed to be keeping.\n\nHer love-lorn heart was stirred.  She spoke to Rachel softly.\n\n\"Come hither and lie down by me,\" she said.  \"I am afraid and thou art\nunhappy.  Give me some of thy courage and I will sorrow with thee.\"\n\nThe Israelite smiled sadly and obeyed.\n\nIt was dawn when the fan-bearer's daughter awoke again.\n\nThe door had been set aside, and on the rock threshold a squat copper\nlamp was sending up periodic eruptions of dense white vapor.  Rachel\nwas feeding the ember of the cotton wick with bits of chopped root.\nThe breeze from the river blew the fumes back into the cave, filling\nthe dark recesses with a fresh and pungent odor.\n\nMasanath, wondering and remembering, raised her head to look through\nthe opening.  Day was broad over Egypt, and the turmoil had subsided.\nThe silence was heavy.  But the Nile was still a wallowing torrent of\nred.\n\nShe sank back and drew the wide sleeves of her dress over her face.\nRachel put the lamp aside, set the door in place and came to her.\n\n\"Thou art better for thy long sleep,\" she said.  \"Now, if thou canst\nbear, as well, with the meager food this house affords, the plague will\nnot vex thee sorely.\"  Then, in obedience to the Israelite's offer,\nMasanath sat up and suffered Rachel to dress her hair and bathe her\ntiny hands and face with a solution of weak white wine.\n\n\"The water which we had stored with us is also corrupted.  I fear we\nshall thirst, if we have but wine to wet our lips,\" Rachel explained.\n\n\"Thou dost not tell me that ye abide in this place?\" the fan-bearer's\ndaughter asked, taking the piece of fowl and hard bread which Rachel\noffered her.\n\n\"Even so,\" Rachel responded after a little silence.\n\n\"Holy Isis! guests of a spirit!  What a ghastly hospice for women!  How\ncame ye here?\"\n\nFor a moment there was silence, so marked that Masanath ceased her\ndainty feeding and drew back a little.\n\n\"Are ye lepers?\" she asked in a frightened voice.\n\n\"Nay, we are fugitives,\" Rachel answered.\n\n\"Fugitives!  What strait brought you to seek such asylum as this?\"\n\nAgain a speaking pause.\n\n\"Who art thou, Lady?\" Rachel asked, at last.\n\n\"I am Masanath, daughter of Har-hat, fan-bearer to the Pharaoh.\"\n\n\"And thou art a friend of the oppressed?\" the Israelite continued.\n\n\"It is my boast before the gods,\" the Egyptian answered with dignity.\n\n\"I am Rachel, of Israel, daughter of Maai, and I have fled from shame.\nIn all Egypt, this is the one and only refuge for such as I.  If my\nhiding-place were published, no help could save me from the despoiler.\nMy one protector is she who lies within.  She is my foster-mother, old\nand ill from abuse at the hands of brutal servants.  Thou hast my\nstory.\"\n\nAs Rachel ceased, Deborah called from within.\n\n\"There is more,\" she said.  \"Come hither.  I am moved to tell thee.\"\n\nMasanath obeyed with hesitation and, pausing in the doorway of the\ninner chamber, heard the story of the Israelites.  Great was her\nperplexity and her sorrow when she heard the name of Kenkenes spoken\ncalmly and without grief.  They did not know he was dead!  She held her\npeace till the story was done, How much more would her heart have been\ntortured could the old woman have given her the name of the offending\nnoble!  Instead, all unsuspecting, she heard the story of Har-hat's\nwrong-doing with now and then an exclamation of indignation, condemning\nhim heartily in her soul.\n\n\"The time for the Egyptian's return is long past, but he will come\nsoon,\" Deborah concluded.\n\nMasanath slowly turned her head and looked at Rachel.  This, then, was\nthe love of that dear, dead artist, for whom Memphis mourned and had\nceased to wait.  How doubly grievous his loss, for Rachel was undone\nthereby!  How heart-breaking to see her wait for him who would come no\nmore!  Masanath choked back her tears and said, when she was composed\nagain:\n\n\"Ye need not molder in this cave, I can hide you in Memphis.\"\n\n\"Nay, we will await him here.\"\n\n\"But the Nile will be upon your refuge in three weeks.  Ye would starve\nif ye drowned not,\" the Egyptian protested earnestly.\n\n\"It may be we shall not wait so long,\" Rachel put in.\n\nMasanath looked at her while she thought busily.  \"If I tell it, I\nbreak a heart.  But if they bide here, they die.  None other will come\nto them by chance or on purpose.\"\n\n\"I would not risk it,\" she answered.  Returning to the pallet of\nmatting she finished her breakfast in silence.  After a little sigh she\nglanced at the wine in one of the small amphoras which Rachel had\nbrought to her as a drinking-cup.  \"Mayhap the plague is past,\" she\nsaid, hinting, \"and I am athirst.\"\n\nRachel took up another jar and went forth.  The hairy creature in the\ncorner, tethered to the amphora rack, slipped his collar and followed\nher.\n\nAs soon as the Israelite was gone, Masanath went into the inner\nchamber.  Standing by the old woman, who lay upon a mattress, set on\nthe top of the sarcophagus, she said hurriedly:\n\n\"Ye may not remain here.  Kenkenes is known to me and he will not\nreturn.\"\n\n\"Thou dost not tell me he was false to us,\" Deborah exclaimed.  \"Nay, I\nwill not believe it,\" she declared.\n\n\"Nay, he was the soul of honor, but he is dead.\"\n\n\"Dead!\" the old woman cried, catching at her dress.\n\n\"Hush!  Tell her not!\"\n\n\"Aye, thou art right.  Tell her not!  But--but how did he die?\"\n\n\"By drowning.  His boat was discovered battered and overturned among\nthe wharf-piling at Memphis, some weeks agone.\"\n\nThe old woman was silent for a moment and then she shook her head.\n\n\"He is a resourceful youth and he may have procured another boat and\nset this one adrift to deceive his enemies.  Yet, the time has been so\nlong, it may be; it may be.\"\n\n\"None in Memphis doubts it.  His father hath given him up and his house\nand his people are in mourning.  But we may not lose this moment in\nsurmises.  Wilt thou go with me into Memphis--if this sending is\nwithdrawn?\"\n\n\"There is no other choice,\" Deborah answered after some pondering.\n\"Kenkenes offered us refuge with his father--alas! that the young man\nshould die!\"  After shaking her head and muttering to herself in her\nown tongue, she went on.  \"But Rachel hesitated to accept, at first\nfrom maiden shyness, though now she hath a secret fear, I doubt not,\nthat the Egyptian may have played her false.  The sorry news must be\ntold her ere she would go.\"\n\n\"Nay, keep it from her yet a while.  Tell her not now.\"\n\n\"How may we?\" Deborah asked helplessly.\n\n\"Listen.  I am a householder in Memphis for a year.  The place is\nsecure from much visiting and only my trusted servants are there.  They\nwill not tell her--none else will--thou and I shall keep discreet\ntongues, but if the fact creep out, in the way of such things, we need\nnot accuse ourselves of killing her hope.  As thou sayest, the young\nman may not be dead.  But let us not risk anything.\n\n\"And furthermore,\" she caught up the line of her talk before Deborah\ncould answer, \"I may as well work good out of an evil I can not escape.\nI am betrothed to the heir of the crown of Egypt--\"\n\nDeborah flung up her hand, drawing away in her amazement.\n\n\"Thou!  A coming queen over the proud land of Mizraim--a guest in the\nretreat of enslaved Israel!\"\n\nMasanath bent her head.  \"Ye, in your want and distress, are not more\npoor or wretched than I.\"\n\nThe old Israelite's brilliant eyes glittered in the dark.\n\n\"Hold!\" she exclaimed.  \"Thou art not a slave--\"\n\n\"Nay, am I not?\" Masanath rejoined swiftly.  \"A slave, a chattel,\ndoubly enthralled!  But enough of this, I would have said that if I wed\nthe prince, I can ask Rachel's freedom at his hands.\"\n\n\"So thou canst,\" Deborah said eagerly--but before she could continue,\nRachel appeared at the outer opening, the amphora held by one arm, the\nape by the other.  Her face was alight with a smile that seemed\ndangerously akin to tears.\n\n\"Here is water, clean and fresh, but the Nile is bank-full of the\nplague.  It was Anubis that showed me!\"  She lowered the amphora into\nthe rack and took up the linen band the ape had slipped.  \"Oh, it is\nungrateful to tie thee, Anubis,\" she went on, \"but thou must not betray\nus, thou good creature.\"\n\n\"It was Anubis!\" Deborah repeated inquiringly.\n\n\"Aye.  Not once did the hideous sight disturb him.  He was athirst and\nhe made me a well in the sand with his paws.  See how Jehovah hath sent\nus succor by humble hands.\"  She stroked the hairy grotesque and\ntethered him reluctantly.\n\nDeborah muttered under her breath.  \"I liked the creature not, since he\nmade me think of the abominable idolatries of Mizraim, but he hath\nserved the oppressed.  He shall be more endurable to me.\"\n\nThe night fell and the dawn came again and again, but holy Hapi was\ndenied.  Hour by hour the fuming lamp was set before the entrance, the\ndoor was put a little aside, that the entering air might be purified\nfor those within.  When the aromatic was exhausted, Rachel sought for\nthe root once more, among the herbs at the river-bank; for the\natmosphere, unsweetened, was beyond endurance.\n\nNever a boat appeared on the water, nor was any human being seen\nabroad.  Egypt retired to her darkest corner and shuddered.\n\nBut after the seven days were fulfilled, the horror on the waters was\ngone.  It went as miasma is dispelled by the sun and wind--as\npestilence is killed by the frost--unseen, unprotesting.  The lifting\nof the plague was as awesome as its coming, but it was not horrible.\nThat was the only difference.  Egypt rejoiced, but she trembled\nnevertheless and went about timidly.\n\nThe Israelite and the Egyptian carried the punt, the boat of Khafra and\nSigur, and launched it on the clean waters.  Then they prepared\nthemselves and Deborah and Anubis for a journey, and ere they departed,\nMasanath, at Rachel's bidding, wrote with a soft soapstone upon the\nrock over the portal of the tomb, the whereabouts of its whilom\ndwellers:\n\n\"Her, whom thou seekest, thou wilt find at the mansion of Har-hat in\nthe city.\"\n\nAt sunset, Rachel, all unsuspecting, was sheltered in the house of her\nenemy.\n\nMasanath's servants had sought for her, frantically and without system\nor method.  Pepi and Nari had been saved by the gods.  They did not\nknow where she had gone, and nothing human or divine could have driven\nthem over the Nile to search for her in the Arabian hills.  And for\nthat reason likewise, they did not notify Har-hat of his daughter's\nloss.  The messenger would have had to cross the smitten river.  They\nintended to send for the fan-bearer, but they waited for the plague to\nlift.  When it was gone, Masanath returned to them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\n\"HE HARDENED HIS HEART\"\n\nThe Nile rose and fell and the seasons shifted until eight months had\npassed.  The period was inconsiderable, but its events had never been\nequaled in a like space, or a generation, or a whole dynasty, or in all\nthe history of Egypt.\n\nWhen the ancient Hebrew shepherd from Midian first demanded audience\nwith Meneptah, Egypt was autocrat of the earth and mistress of the\nseas.  Her name was Glory and Perpetual Life and her substance was all\nthe fullness of the earth and the treasures thereof.  But eight months\nafter the Hebrew shepherd had gone forth from that first audience, how\nhad the mighty fallen!  She was stripped of her groves and desolated in\nher wheat-fields; her gardens were naked, her vineyards were barren,\nand the vultures grew fat on the dead in her pastures.  About the\nthrice-fortified walls of her cities her gaunt husbandmen were camped,\npensioners upon the granaries of the king.  Her commerce had stagnated\nbecause she had no goods to barter; her society ceased to revel, for\nher people were called upon to preserve themselves.  Her arts were\nforgotten; only religion held its own and that from very fear.  Egypt\nwas on her knees, but the gods were aghast and helpless in the face of\nthe hideous power of the unsubstantial, unimaged God of Israel.\n\nNever had a monarch been forced to meet such conditions, but in all the\nmighty line of Pharaohs no feebler king than Meneptah could have faced\nthem.  In treating with the issue he had fretted and fumed, promised\nand retracted, temporized with the Hebrew mystic or stormed at him,\nhesitated and resolved, and reconsidered and deferred while his realm\ndescended into the depths of ruin and despair.\n\nIt would seem that the dire misfortunes would have pressed the timid\nmonarch into immediate submission.  But a glance at conditions may\nexplain the cause of his obduracy.\n\nAt this period in theological chronology, human attributes for the\nfirst time were eliminated from the character of a god.  Moses depicted\nthe first purely divine deity.  Omnipotence was ascribed to the gods,\nbut Pantheism being full of paradoxes, the gods were not omnipotent.\nLoud as were the panegyrics of the devout, the devout recognized the\nlimitations of their divinities.  None had ever dreamed of a deity that\nwas actually omnipotent, actually infinite.   Meneptah measured the God\nof Israel by his own gods.  Furthermore, the miracles did not amaze him\nas they appalled Egypt.  He was exceedingly superstitious; in his eye\nthe most ordinary natural phenomenon was a demonstration of the occult.\nNo matter that the advanced science of his time explained rainfall,\nunusual heat or cold, over-fruitful or unproductive years, pestilence\nand sudden death, eclipses, comets and meteors,--he believed them to be\nthe direct results of sorcery.  Calamitous as the effects may have been\nupon other people, he had ever escaped harm from these sources.  It was\nnot strange that in time he ceased to fear miracles, and the\ndemonstrations of Moses were not so terrifying, inasmuch as they did\nnot greatly affect him.\n\nHis horses died, but Arabia was near to replenish his stables; the\npests annoyed him, but his servants fended them from him; the blains\ntroubled him, but his court physicians were able and gave him relief;\nthe thunders frightened him, but his fright passed with the storm.\nWhenever the sendings became unendurable he had but to yield to gain a\nrespite, and then he forgot the experience in a day.  Meanwhile he ate,\nslept and walked in the same luxury he had known in happier years.\n\nTherefore, Meneptah neither realized his peril nor was personally much\naggrieved by the troublous times.\n\nIt did not occur to him that all the people of his realm were not\nsheltered against the plagues by wealth and many servants.  He could\nnot understand why Egypt should be restive under the same afflictions\nthat he had borne with fortitude.  Summoning all evidence from his\npoint of view, he was able to present to himself a case of personal\npersecution and ill-use.  The Hebrews belonged to him, and because he\nheld them their God afflicted Egypt.  Egypt complained and would have\nhim sacrifice his private property, his slaves, for its sake.  To the\npeevish king the demand was unreasonable.  Yet he was not extraordinary\nin his behavior.  Unselfishness was not an attribute of ancient kings.\n\nMeneptah was a man that wished to be swayed.  He craved approbation and\nwas helpless without an abettor.  His puny ideas had to be championed\nby another before they became fixed convictions.  After the plague of\nlocusts, the Hebrew question reached serious proportions.  Har-hat had\nestranged most of the ministers, and in his strait Meneptah felt\nvaguely and for the first time that he needed the acquiescence of\nothers in addition to the fan-bearer's ready concord.\n\nOne early morning, in a corridor leading from the entrance, he met\nHotep.  A sudden impulse urged him to consult his scribe.\n\n\"Where hast thou been?\" he asked, noticing Hotep's street dress.\n\n\"To the temple, O Son of Ptah.\"\n\n\"What hast thou to ask of the gods that thy king can not give thee?\"\n\nHotep hesitated, and the color rushed into his cheeks.  The Hathors\ntortured him with an opportunity he dared not seize.  How could he ask\nfor Masanath?\n\n\"I went to pray for that which all Egyptians crave at this hour--the\nsuccor of Egypt,\" he said, instead.\n\nMeneptah signed his scribe to follow him to a seat near by.\n\n\"Why may I not require of thee the services of a higher minister?\" he\nbegan, after he had seated himself.  \"Never hast thou failed me, and I\ncan not say so much of the great nobles above thee.  Serve me well in\nthis, Hotep, and thou mayest take the place of some one of these.\"\n\n\"Let me but serve thee,\" the scribe returned placidly; \"that is reward\nin itself.\"\n\n\"Thou knowest,\" the king began, plunging into the heart of the\nquestion, \"that I yielded to these ravening wolves, Mesu and Aaron.  I\nhave consented to release the Israelites.  But other thought hath come\nto me in the night.  Thou knowest that no evil hath befallen the land\nof Goshen.  Har-hat explaineth this strange thing by the location of\nthe strip.  The Nile toucheth it not and rains fall there.  Furthermore\nthe winds blow differently in that district, and withal the hand of\nRannu of the harvests hath sheltered it.  It may be, but to me it\nseemeth that the Hebrew sorcerer hath cast a protecting spell over the\nspot.  But whatever the cause, the race of churls and their riches have\nescaped misfortune.  Thinkest thou not, good Hotep, that, if they must\ngo, we may by right require their flocks of them to replenish the\npastures of Egypt?\"\n\nSurely the Hathors were exploiting themselves this day.  Another\nopportunity for good and what would come of it?  Hotep knew the man\nwith whom he dealt.  Still it were a sin to slight even an unprofitable\nchance that seemed to offer alleviation for Egypt.  He would proceed\ncautiously and do his best.\n\n\"Be the little lamp trimmed never so brightly, O Son of Ptah, it may\nnot help the sun.  Thou art monarch, I am thy slave.  How can I mold\nthee, my King?\"\n\n\"Others have swayed me, thou modest man.\"\n\n\"In that hour when thou wast swayed, O Meneptah, another than thyself\nruled over Egypt.\"\n\nMeneptah looked in amazement at his scribe.  He had never considered\nthe influence of Har-hat in that light, but, by the gods, it seemed\nstrangely correct.  He straightened himself.\n\n\"Be thou assured, Hotep, that I weigh right well whatever counsel mine\nadvisers offer me before I indorse it.\"\n\nHotep bowed.  \"That I know.  And for that reason do I hesitate to give\nthee my little thoughts.  It would hurt the man in me to see them\nthrust aside.\"\n\n\"Thou evadest,\" Meneptah contended smiling.\n\n\"Wherefore?\"\n\n\"Because, O King, I should advise against thine inclinations.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\" Meneptah demanded again, this time with some asperity.\n\n\"We hold the Hebrews,\" was the undisturbed reply; \"through destruction\nand plague we have held them.  They boast the calamities as sendings\nfrom their God.  Egypt's afflictions multiply; every resort hath failed\nus.  One is left--to free the slaves and test their boast.\"\n\nMeneptah's face had grown deprecatory.\n\n\"Dost thou espouse the cause of thy nation's enemy?\" he asked.\n\n\"I espouse the cause of the oppressed, and which, now, is more\noppressed--Egypt or the Hebrew?\"\n\nThis was different sort of persuasion from that which the king had\nheard since Har-hat took up the fan.  The scribe was compelling him by\nreason; the man's personality was not entering at all into the\nargument.  Meneptah's high brows knitted.  He felt his feeble\nresolution filter away; his inclination to hold the Hebrews stayed with\nhim, but the power to withstand Hotep's strong argument was not in him.\n\n\"What wouldst thou have me do?\" he asked querulously.\n\n\"I am but a mouthpiece for thy realm; I counsel not for myself.  The\nstrait of Egypt demands that thou set the Hebrew free, yield his goods\nand his children to him, and be rid of him and his plagues for ever.\"\n\nHotep spoke as if he were reciting a law from the books of the great\nGod Toth.  His tone did not invite further contention.  He had read the\nking his duty, and it behooved the king to obey.  A silence ensued, and\nby the signs growing on Meneptah's face, Hotep predicted acquiescence.\nIt can not be said, however, that he noted them hopefully.  Much time\nwould elapse in which much contrary persuasion was possible before\nIsrael could depart from Egypt.\n\nRameses came out of the dusk at the end of the corridor.  The king\nraised himself eagerly and summoned his son.\n\n\"Hither, my Rameses!\"\n\nWith suspense in his soul, Hotep saw the prince approach.  Rameses had\nnever expressed himself upon the Hebrew question, and the scribe knew\nfull well that neither himself nor Har-hat, nor all the ministers, nor\nheaven and earth could militate against the counsel of that grim young\ntyrant.  Meneptah spoke with much appeal in his voice.\n\n\"Rameses, I need thee.  Awake out of thy dream and help me.  What shall\nI do with the Hebrews?\"\n\n\"I have trusted to my father's sufficient wisdom to help him in his\nstrait, without advice of mine,\" was the indifferent reply.\n\n\"Aye; but I crave thy counsel, now, my son.\"\n\n\"Then, neither god nor devil could make me loose my grasp did I wish to\nhold the Hebrews!\"\n\nHotep sighed, inaudibly, and was moved to depart, had not lack of the\nking's permission made him stay.\n\n\"But consider the losses to my realm,\" Meneptah made perfunctory\nprotest.  The prince's full lip curled.\n\n\"This is but a new method of warfare,\" he answered.  \"Instead of going\nforth with thy foot-soldiers and thy chariots, thy javelins and thy\nshields, thou sufferest siege within thy borders.  Wilt thou fling up\nthy hands and open thy gates to thine enemy, while yet there is plenty\nwithin the realm and men to post its walls?  Let it not be written down\nagainst thee, O my father, that thou didst so.  Losses to Egypt!\" the\nphrase was bitter with scorn.  \"Dost thou remember how many dead the\nIncomparable Pharaoh left in Asia?  How many perished of thirst in the\ndeserts and of cold in the mountains, and of pestilence in the marshes?\nRan not the rivers of the Orient with Egyptian blood, and where shall\nthe souls of those empty bodies dwell which rotted under the sun on the\ngreat plains of the East?  The Incomparable Pharaoh cast out the word\n'surrender' from his tongue.  Wilt thou restore it and use it first in\nthis short-lived conflict with a mongrel race of shepherds?  Nay, if\nthou dost give over now, it shall not be an injustice to thee if it\ncome to pass that thou shalt bow to a brickmaker as thy sovereign,\nsacrifice to the Immaterial God and swear by the beard of Abraham!\"\n\nMeneptah winced under the acrid reproach of his son.\n\n\"It hath ever been mine intent to keep the Hebrews, but I would not act\nunadvised,\" he explained apologetically.\n\n\"Wherefore, then, these frequent consultations with the wolf from\nMidian?\" was the quick retort.  \"Thou art unskilled in the ways of war,\nmy father.  The king who would conquer treats not with his enemy.  Thou\ndost risk the respect of thy realm for thee.  Strengthen thy\nfortifications and exhaust the cunning of thy besieger.  And if he\ninvade thy lines again with insolence and threats, treat him to the\nsword or the halter.  If thou art a warrior, prove thy deserts to the\nname.  And if Egypt backs thee not in thy stand against the Hebrew,\nthen it is not the same Egypt that followed Rameses the Great to glory!\"\n\nThe king put up his hand.\n\n\"Enough!  They shall not go; they shall not go!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nTHE CONSPIRACY\n\nOne morning early in March Seti stood beside the parapet on the palace\nof the king in Tanis.  His eyes were fixed on the shimmering line of\nthe northern level, but he did not see it.  Some one came with silent\nfootfall and laid a hand on his arm.\n\nHe turned and looked into Ta-user's eyes.  His face softened and he\ntook the hand between his own.\n\n\"Alas! this day thou returnest into the Hak-heb,\" he said.\n\nShe nodded.  \"Would I could take thee with me, but not yet, not yet.\nWait till thou art a little older.\"\n\nHe sighed and looked away again.  \"What weighty things absorb my\nprince?\" she asked.  \"What especial labors is he planning?\"\n\nHis face clouded.  \"Dost thou mock me, Ta-user?\" he returned.\n\n\"Hadst thou no thought at all?\" she persisted.\n\n\"I merely pondered on mine own uselessness,\" he answered.\n\n\"Fie!\"\n\n\"Nay, even thou must see it.  I live on my father's bounty; I accept my\npeople's homage; I adore the gods.  I bear no arms; I neither prepare\nto reign nor expect to serve.  I am a thing set above the healthy labor\nof the world and below the cares of the exalted.  I am nothing.\"\n\n\"Fie! I say.\"\n\nSeti looked at her reproachfully.\n\n\"Thou hast wealth,\" she began and paused.\n\n\"Wherein doth that make me useful?\"\n\n\"Much can be done with gold.  Is there none in need?\"\n\n\"None who asks has been denied.  Yet what right have I to deal alms to\nthem from whom my riches come?  If I yielded up everything, to my very\ncloak, should I have done more than return to them what they have given\nme?  I should still be a penniless prince, more useless than ever.\"  He\nsat down on the broad lintel capping the parapet, but retained her hand.\n\n\"Ta-user,\" he continued, as she opened her lips to speak, \"what wouldst\nthou have me do?\"\n\n\"I would have thee be useful.\"\n\n\"I shall throw away my lordly trappings,\" he said, \"and become a lifter\nof the shadoof[1] this day.\"\n\n\"Seti,\" she said sternly, putting his hand away, \"with thy people\nimperiled by the sorcery of a wizard, with thy realm desolated by the\nplagues of his sending, canst thou, on whom I have built so much, thus\nlightly consider thy uses and ignore the things set at thy very hand to\ndo?\"\n\nThe prince looked at her with not a little discomfiture showing on his\nyoung face.  But the interrogation was emphatic, and she awaited an\nanswer.\n\n\"I have no weight with my father,\" he said soberly.  \"Thou knowest that\nEgypt will never have peace until the Hebrews depart.  But I can not\npersuade my father to release them and I can not persuade the Israelite\nto content himself to stay.  Thou dost demand much of me if thou dost\ndemand of me the impossible.\"\n\nAs much of contempt as it was wise to show glimmered in her eyes.\n\n\"And thou art at thy wits' end?\" she asked.\n\n\"A little way to go.  Help me, Ta-user.  Bear with me.\"\n\nShe moved closer to him and absently smoothed down the fine locks,\ndisordered by the wind.  Presently she lifted his face and said with\nsudden impulsiveness:\n\n\"Dost, of a truth, believe everything that is told thee?\"\n\n\"Am I over-credulous?\" he asked.\n\n\"Thou art.  Thou believest this Hebrew to be honest in his show of\ninterest in his people?\"\n\n\"I can not doubt him, Ta-user.  One has but to see him to be convinced.\"\n\n\"One has but to see him to know that he might be coaxed into\npassiveness with that for which an Israelite would sell his\nmummy--gold!\"\n\n\"Nay!  Nay!\" Seti exclaimed.  \"Thou dost wrong him!  He is the soul of\nmisdirected zeal.  His is an earnestness not to be frightened with\ndeath nor abated with bribes.\"\n\nShe laughed a cool little laugh.\n\n\"Deliver to him but the price he names, and the Israelitish unrest will\nsettle like a swarm of smoked bees.\"\n\n\"Ta-user, it is thou that art deceived,\" Seti remonstrated.  \"Even the\nPharaoh does not hesitate to assert that Mesu is terribly upright.  Not\neven he would dream of offering the wizard Hebrew a peace-tribute.\"\n\nOnce again she laughed.  \"Mind me, I speak reverently of the divine\nMeneptah, the Shedder of Light, but I do not marvel that he is no more\nwilling to deliver over to Mesu one color of gold than another.\"\n\nSeti looked at her with a puzzled expression.  Gazing down into his\neyes, she said with sudden solemnity:\n\n\"My Prince, may I give my life into thy hands?\"\n\nImpulsively he pressed her hand to his lips.\n\n\"The gods overtake me with their vengeance if I guard it not,\" he\nexclaimed.\n\nShe drew him from his place on the parapet and led him to a seat in a\ncorner near the double towers.  There she sat, and he dropped down at\nher feet.  He crossed his arms over her lap and lifted his face to her.\nFor a moment she was silent, contemplating the young countenance.  What\nwere the thoughts that came to her then?  Did she applaud or rebuke\nherself?  Did she pity or despise him?\n\nIs there more of evil than of good wrought by the mind working silently?\n\nSeti was ripe to be plucked by treachery.  His was the faith that is\ninsulted by a suggestion of wariness.\n\n\"While I dwelt obscurely in the Hak-heb,\" she began, \"I was much among\nthe partizans of Amon-meses.  They are friends of the Pharaoh now, so\nwhat I tell is dead sedition.  But I heard it when it lived, and thou\nknowest the penalty invited by him who listens to criticism of the\nking.  Attend me, then, for the story is short.\n\n\"The history of Mesu is an old tale to thee.  Thy noble grandsire's\nfirst queen, Neferari Thermuthis, adopted the Hebrew, and when she died\nhe shared in the allotment of her treasure.  But Mesu was an exile in\nMidian at the time, and his share was left with Shaemus, then the heir,\nto be given over to the foster-son when he should return.  But Shaemus\ndied, and all thy father's older brothers, so the gracious Meneptah\ncame to wear the crown.  To him fell the guardianship of the Hebrew's\ntreasure till what time he should return out of Midian.  Mesu hath\nreturned.  Hath thy father delivered to him his inheritance?\"\n\nSeti's face flamed, but, before he could speak, she went on.  \"Not so;\nnot one copper weight.  It lies untouched in the treasury.  Thine\naugust sire does not use it, because he hath wealth more than he can\nspend.  But it is the Hebrew's, and if it were delivered into his hands\nit would redeem Egypt.  I know it.  There, it is done.  My life is in\nthy hands.\"\n\nThe prince looked at her with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed, his lips\nsilent.\n\n\"Wouldst thou have proof?\" she continued recklessly.  \"Seek out Hotep,\nwho hath been keeper of the records at Pithom and ask him.\"\n\n\"Did he tell thee?\" Seti demanded.\n\n\"Nay; I learned it from another source, not in the palace.\"  The prince\nlapsed into silence, his eyes averted.  Ta-user regarded him intently.\nSuddenly he raised his head.\n\n\"Dost thou know the amount of his share?\" he asked.\n\n\"It is but a moderate part of the queen's fortune, since each of the\nking's children by his many women was included.\"\n\nSeti winced, for there was something dimly offensive in the calm way\nshe stated the bald fact.\n\n\"It is not much, as princely dowers go,\" she added casually.\n\n\"He shall have it,\" Seti said almost impatiently.  \"Out of mine own\nwealth he shall have it--not as a bribe--he would not have it so--but\nbecause it is his.\"\n\nShe caught his hands to her breast and cried out in delight.\n\n\"And I shall be thy lieutenant, and none shall know of it, save thee\nand me.\"\n\nHe smiled up at her.\n\n\"Nay, there is danger in this,\" he said gently, \"and I would not\nimperil thee.  Already thou hast overstepped safety for Egypt's sake\nand mine.  More than this I will not let thee do.\"\n\nAn expression of panic swept over her face.  He interpreted it as hurt.\n\n\"Thou hast been my guide for so long, Ta-user.  Let me choose this once\nfor thee.\"\n\nShe pouted, and putting him away from her, arose and left him.  He\nfollowed her and took her hands.\n\n\"A confederate thou must have,\" she complained; \"and whom dost thou\ntrust more than Ta-user?\"\n\n\"It is not a matter of trust,\" he explained, \"but of thine immunity\nshould the Hathors frown upon my plan.\"\n\n\"It matters not,\" she protested.  \"Whom wilt thou trust and imperil\ninstead of Ta-user?\"\n\n\"Thou dost hurry me in my plan-making,\" he remonstrated mildly.\n\"Mayhap I shall choose Hotep.\"\n\nShe flung up her head, her face the picture of dismay.\n\n\"Nay, nay! not Hotep!  Of all thy world, not Hotep!\" she exclaimed.\n\nHe lifted his brows in amazement.\n\n\"Surely thou dost not question his fidelity--his power?\"\n\n\"Nay! but dost thou not guess what he will do?  Thou child!  Abet thee!\nNay! he would set his foot upon thy plan and foil thee at once with his\npolitic hand.\"\n\n\"Hotep will obey as I command; that thou knowest,\" he said with dignity.\n\n\"Thou wilt not reach the point of command with him,\" she vehemently\ninsisted.  \"He would catch thine intent ere thou hadst stated it and\nwould make thee aghast at thyself in a twinkling by his smooth\nreasoning and vivid auguries.  Nay, if thou art to have thy way in\nthis, I wash my hands of it.  We are as good as undone.\"\n\nShe turned away from him, but he followed her contritely.\n\n\"I submit,\" he said helplessly.  \"Advise me, but I--nay, ask me not to\nendanger thee, Ta-user.\"\n\nShe shook her head and moved on.  He advanced a step or two after her,\nstopped, and wheeling about, resumed his place at the parapet.\n\nAfter a little pause she was beside him again.\n\n\"Shall we forego this thing?\" she asked.\n\n\"Nay,\" he answered quietly.  \"I can achieve it without help.\"  She drew\na breath as if to speak but held her peace.  They stood in silence side\nby side for a while.\n\nPresently she slipped between him and the parapet.\n\n\"Hast thou not called me wise in thy time?\" she asked.  \"I believed\nthee, then.\"\n\n\"I told thee a truth, but I might have added that thou art over-brave,\"\nhe said, catching her drift.\n\n\"Listen, then, to me.  Thou, in thy young credulity, seest in this only\njustice to an enemy.  I, in the wisdom of riper years and the\ndiscernment bred of experience with knaves, see in it the redemption of\nEgypt.  If the heaviest penalty overtook us is it not a result worth\nachieving at any cost?  Seti, believe me; grant me my belief!  It is\nthe one hope of thy father's kingdom.  Shall it fail because thou wast\nenvious for my safety above Egypt's?  I can aid thee to success.  That\nthou hast said.  If thou failest, though thou dost attempt it alone,\ndost thou dream that I could see thee punished without crying out, 'It\nwas I who urged him!'  If thou art undone, likewise am I.  If thou art\nto succeed, wilt thou selfishly keep thy success to thyself?\"\n\nShe slipped her arm about his neck and pressed close to him.\n\n\"Nay, Seti, thou dost overestimate the peril.  The Hebrew will not\nbetray us, and who else will know of it?  I shall make a journey into\nGoshen, find Mesu and bid him meet thee at a certain place.  There thou\nshalt come at a certain time with the treasure, and the feat is done.\nBut if we fail--\" she flung her head back and bewitched him with a\nheavy eye--\"will it be hard for me to persuade the king?\"\n\nSeti contemplated her with bewilderment in his face.  The youth and\ninnocence in his young soul revolted, but there was another element\nthat yielded and was pleased.\n\n\"Have it thy way, Ta-user,\" he said, with hesitation in his words,\nwhile he continued to gaze helplessly into her compelling eyes.\n\nShe laughed and kissed him.  \"I will see thee again soon.\"  Putting him\nback from her, she descended the stairway.\n\nIn the shadow at the foot she came upon two figures, walking close\ntogether, the taller of the two bending over the smaller.  The pair\nstarted apart at sight of the princess.\n\n\"A blessing on thy content, Ta-meri,\" the princess said.  \"And upon\nthine, Nechutes.\"\n\nThe cup-bearer bowed and rumbled his appreciation of her courtesy.\n\n\"Dost thou leave us, Ta-user?\" his wife asked.\n\n\"Aye, I return to the Hak-heb.  O, I am glad to go.  Would I could\nleave the same quiet here in Tanis that I hope to find in Nehapehu.\"\n\n\"Aye, I would thou couldst.  But is it not true, my Princess, that one\nmay make his own content even in the sorriest surroundings?\" Nechutes\nasked.\n\n\"For himself, even so.  But the very making of one's selfish content\nmay work havoc with the peace of another.  That I have seen.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Nechutes responded uncomfortably, wondering if the princess\nmeant to confess her disappointment to them.\n\n\"It makes me quarrel at the Hathors.  The most of us deserve the ills\nthat overtake us.  But he--alas--none but the good could sing as he\nsang!\"\n\n\nThe cup-bearer dropped his indifference immediately.\n\n\"Ha!  Whom dost thou mean?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Oh!\" the princess exclaimed.  \"Perchance I give thee news.\"\n\n\"If thou meanest Kenkenes, indeed thou dost give us news.  What of him?\nWe know that he is dead.  Is there anything further?\"\n\n\"Of a truth, dost thou not know?  Nay, then, far be it from me to tell\nthee--anything.\"  She passed round them and started to go on.  In a few\npaces, Nechutes overtook her.\n\n\"Give us thy meaning, Ta-user,\" he said earnestly.  \"Kenkenes was near\nto me--to Ta-meri.  What knowest thou?\"\n\n\"The court buzzes with it.  Strange indeed that ye heard it not.  It is\nsaid, and of a truth well-nigh proved, that the heart of the singer\nbroke when Ta-meri chose thee, Nechutes, and that--that the disaster\nwhich befell him may have been sought.\"\n\nNechutes seized her arm, and Ta-meri cried out,\n\n\"He sent Ta-meri to me,\" the cup-bearer said wrathfully.  \"Thy news\nis--\"\n\n\"Alas!  Nechutes,\" the princess said sorrowfully, \"it was sacrifice.\nHe knew that Ta-meri loved thee and he nobly surrendered, but was the\nhurt any less because he submitted?\"\n\nNechutes released her and turned away.  Ta-meri covered her face with\nher hands and followed him.  He did not pause for her, and she had to\nhasten her steps to keep up with him.  The princess looked after them\nfor a space and went on.\n\nStraight through the corridors toward the royal apartments she went.\nHer copper eyes had taken on a luminousness that was visible in the\ndark.  There was an elasticity in her step that spoke of exultation.\n\nThe Hathors were indulging her beyond reason.\n\nA soldier of the royal guard paced outside the doorway of the king's\napartments.  Ta-user flung him a smile and, passing him without a word\nof leave-asking, smiled again and disappeared through the door.\n\nMeneptah, who sat alone, raised his head from the scroll he was\nlaboriously spelling.  If he had meant to resent the intrusion, the\nimpulse died within him at the charming obeisance the princess made.\n\nAs she rose at his sign, Har-hat entered.  Ta-user came near to the\nking, smiling triumphantly at the fan-bearer.\n\n\"The gods sped my feet,\" she said, \"and I am here first.  Hold thy\npeace, noble Har-hat.  Mine is the first audience.\"\n\nHaving reached the king's side, she dropped on her knees and folded her\nhands on the arm of his chair.\n\n\"A boon, O Shedder of Light!  So much thou owest me.  Behold, I came to\nthee on the hope of thy promises.  What have I won therefrom?  Naught\nsave, perchance, the smiles of Egypt at my disappointment.\"\n\nMeneptah's face flushed.\n\n\"Say on, O my kinswoman,\" he said, moving uncomfortably.\n\n\"Kinswoman!  And a year agone, I thought to hear, 'O my daughter.'\"\n\nThe color in the king's face deepened.\n\n\"Wilt thou reproach me, Ta-user, for my son's wilfulness?\" was his\ntactless reply.\n\nTa-user shot an amused glance at the discomfited countenance of Har-hat\nand went on.\n\n\"Nay, O my Sovereign.  I do but wish to incline thine ear to me.  Say\nfirst thou wilt grant me my boon.\"\n\nHe looked at her doubtfully, but she drew nearer and lifted her face to\nhis.\n\n\"I do not ask for thy crown, or thy son, or for an army, or treasure,\nor anything but that which thou wouldst gladly give me, because of thy\njust and generous heart.\"\n\nThe doubt faded out of his face.\n\n\"Thou hast my word, Ta-user.\"\n\n\"And for that I thank thee.\"  She bent her head and touched her lips to\nthe hand lying nearest her.\n\n\"Give me ear, then,\" she continued.  \"Thou hast among thy ministers a\nnoble genius, the murket, Mentu--\"\n\nThe king broke in with a dry smile.  \"Wouldst have him for a mate?\"\n\nShe shook her head till the emeralds pendent from the fillet on her\nforehead clinked together.  Nothing could have been more childlike than\nthe pleased smile on her face.\n\n\"Nay, nay, he would not have me,\" she protested.  \"But he hath a son.\"\n\nHar-hat moved forward a pace.  She noted the movement and playfully\nwaved him back.  \"Encroach not.  This hour is mine.\"  Har-hat's face\nwore a dubious smile.\n\n\"He hath a son,\" she repeated.\n\n\"He had a son, but he is dead,\" the king answered.\n\n\"Not so!  He is in prison where thy counselor, the wicked, unfeeling,\njealous, rapacious Har-hat hath entombed him!\"\n\nHar-hat sprang forward as the king lifted an amazed and angry face.\n\n\"Back!\" she cried, motioning at him with her full arm.  \"It is time the\nHathors overtook thee, thou ineffable knave!\"\n\n\"I protest!\" the fan-bearer cried, losing his temper.\n\n\"Enough of this play,\" Meneptah said sternly.  \"Go on with thy tale,\nTa-user.  I would know the truth of this.\"\n\n\"Thou wilt not learn it from the princess,\" Har-hat exclaimed.\n\n\"Ah!\" Ta-user ejaculated, a world of innocence, surprise and wounded\nfeeling in the word.\n\n\"Thy words do not become thee, Har-hat,\" Meneptah said.  The fan-bearer\nclosed his lips and gazed fixedly at the princess.\n\nShe drooped her head and went on in a voice low with hurt.\n\n\"The gods judge me if my every word is not true!  Har-hat imprisoned\nhim because the gallant young man loved the maiden whom Har-hat would\nhave taken for his harem.\"\n\nMeneptah's face blazed.  \"Go on,\" he said sharply.\n\n\"The fan-bearer had some little right on his side, for the young man\nhad committed sacrilege in carving a statue, and had stolen the maiden\naway and hidden her when Har-hat would have taken her.  The maiden is\nan Israelite, and her hiding-place is known to this day only by herself\nand her unhappy lover.  Now comes thy villainy, O thou short of\ntemper,\" she continued, looking at the fan-bearer.\n\n\"Thy father, O Shedder of Light, the Incomparable Pharaoh who reigns in\nOsiris, gave Mentu a signet--\"\n\nThe king interrupted.  \"I know of that.  Go on.\"\n\n\"When Kenkenes was overtaken and thrust into prison he sent this signet\nto thee, O my Sovereign, with a petition for his release and for the\nmaiden's freedom.  The writing and the signet came into Har-hat's hands\nand he ignored them, though the signet commanded him in the name of the\nholy One.\"  Her voice lowered with awe and dismay at his unregeneracy.\n\"Kenkenes is still in prison.\"\n\n\"Now, by the gods, Har-hat!\" Meneptah exclaimed angrily.  \"I would not\nhave dreamed such baseness in thee!\"\n\nThe fan-bearer was stupefied with wrath and astonishment.  Words\nabsolutely refused to come to him.  Ta-user accused him with the wide\neyes of fearless righteousness.  Presently she went on:\n\n\"Already hath he languished eight months in prison.  His offense\nagainst the gods and against the laws of the land hath been expiated.\nI would have thee set him free now, O Meneptah, that he may return to\nhis love and comfort her.\"\n\nMeneptah reached for the reed pen.\n\n\"Hold!\" cried Har-hat.\n\n\"Thou dost forget thyself, good Har-hat,\" the princess said with\ndignity.  \"Thou speakest with thy sovereign.\"\n\n\"But I will be heard!\" he exclaimed violently.  \"Hear me!  I pray thee,\nSon of Ptah!\"\n\nMeneptah removed the wetted pen and waited.\n\n\"Thou didst give the maiden to me thyself!\" he began precipitately.\n\"Thy document of gift I have yet.  He stole her, hid her away,\ncommitted sacrilege and abused two of my servants nigh unto death when\nthey sought for her.  Hath he any more right to her than I?  Art thou\nassured that he hath an honorable purpose in mind for her?  She is\ncomely and well instructed in service, and I would have put her in my\ndaughter's train, even as the Hebrew Miriam was lady-in-waiting to\nNeferari Thermuthis.  If thou dost examine the records of the petitions\nto thee thou wilt find that I asked her expressly for household\nservice.  It is false that I had any other purpose in mind.\n\n\"As to the signet,\" he continued breathlessly, \"there is no word upon\nit concerning the palliation of a triple crime!  Shall we invoke the\nking in the blameless name of the holy One, and demand forgiveness in\nthe name of Him who forgiveth no sin?  Furthermore, thou didst give the\nwriting into my hands, and in obedience to thy command, I acted as I\nthought best.  My purposes have been wilfully distorted!\"\n\nMeneptah frowned with perplexity.  But while he pondered, Ta-user drew\nnear to him and said to him very softly:\n\n\"If his words be true, O my Sovereign, one lovely Israelite is as\nserviceable as another.  The young man loves this maiden.  Doubt it\nnot!  He is a worthy off-spring of that noble sire, Mentu.  If he\noffended, he hath suffered sufficiently.  Let him go, I pray thee.\"\n\n\"It is my word against her surmises, O Meneptah,\" Har-hat insisted.\n\nThe king frowned more and stroked his cheek.\n\n\"Thine anger should be abated by this time, Har-hat,\" he said feebly.\n\n\"His rebellion is not yet broken.  I have not the slave yet,\" the\nfan-bearer retorted.\n\n\"Mayhap he is ready to surrender her now.\"\n\n\"Not so!\" the princess put in.  \"He hath endured eight months.  If it\nwere eight hundred years his silence would be the same.  It is proof of\nmy boast that he loves her.  No man who would comfort his flesh alone\nwould suffer such lengths of mortification of flesh!  Let him go, my\nKing, and give the clean-souled fan-bearer another Israelite for his\ndaughter.\"\n\n\"Why camest thou not sooner with this to the king?\" Har-hat demanded.\n\n\"I have but this moment learned of it, and I could not leave the court\nwithout one last act for the good of the oppressed,\" she replied.\n\n\"Have it thy way, Ta-user.  Come to me in an hour,\" Meneptah began.\n\n\"Nay, write it now.\"\n\n\"Thou art insistent.\"\n\n\"Thou didst promise,\" she whispered, her face so close to his that the\nlight from the facets of her emeralds turned on his cheek.\n\nHe took up his pen and wrote.\n\n\"Now promise that the signet shall go back to Mentu,\" she continued.\n\n\"As thou wilt, Ta-user,\" the king replied.\n\nShe caught up the roll, hesitated for a moment, and then kissed his\ncheek deliberately and was gone.\n\nA moment later Har-hat overtook her in the hall.\n\n\"Hyena!\" he exclaimed.  \"What is thy game?\"\n\nShe laughed and shook the scroll in his face.\n\n\"It is my turn at the pawns now.  Thou didst play between me and the\ncrown.  Now I shall harass thee for the joy of it.  Thinkest thou I\ncared aught for the dreamer and his loves?  Bah!  I heard this tale\neight months agone while I had naught to do but eavesdrop.  Nay, it was\nbut my one chance to vex thee.\"\n\nAgain she laughed and ran away to the queen's apartments.\n\n\"I am come to bid thee farewell,\" she said, kneeling before the pale\nlittle woman who loved the king.  The princess put up her face to be\nkissed.\n\n\"Not my lips!\" she cried warningly.  \"They yet tingle with the kiss of\nMeneptah, thy husband.  I would not have the ecstasy spoiled by\nanother's touch.\"\n\nThe queen flushed and kissed the cheek.\n\n\"Farewell, and peace go with thee,\" she said quietly.\n\nThe princess retained her composure until she reentered the hall.\nThere she flung her arms above her head and laughed silently.\n\n\"Of a truth, I take peace with me, and I leave discord behind!\"\n\n\n\n[1] Shadoof--a pole with a bucket attached, like the old well-sweep,\nused by rustics to dip water from the Nile.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nRACHEL'S REFUGE\n\nRachel stood by the parapet on the top of the Memphian house of\nHar-hat.  About her were no evidences of her former serfdom.  She wore\nan ample robe of white linen, with blue selvages heavily fringed.\nAbout her neck was the collar of gold.   The costume was distinctly\nIsraelitish, elaborated somewhat at the suggestion of Masanath, to whom\nRachel's golden beauty was a never-lessening wonder.  Compared to the\ntiny gorgeous lady, Rachel was as a tall lily to a mimosa.\n\nMasanath was comfortably pillowed on cushions, close to the Israelite.\nThe rose-leaf flush on her little face was subdued and her dark eyes\nwere larger than usual.  The physical discomforts of the plagues had\novertaken her; and Rachel, the only one of all the household who had\npassed unscathed through the troublous time, had been so tender a nurse\nthat Masanath recovered with reluctance.\n\nThis was the Egyptian's first day on the housetop, and she was not\nhappy.  The great pots of glazed earthenware, each a small garden in\nsize, were filled with baked earth.  The locusts had taken her flowers.\nIn the park below the grass was gone and the palm trees were\nshadowless.  Her chariot horses had died in the stables; her pets had\ndrooped and perished; her birds were missing one morning, and Rachel\nsaid they had flown to Goshen, where there were grain and grasses.\nFurthermore, the year of freedom had almost expired and she began to\nanticipate sorrowfully.\n\nThe period of the Israelite's residence with Masanath had been\nuneventful save for those grim, momentous days of plague and loss.\nDeborah had survived the removal to comfort in Memphis only a month.\nThe brutal injuries inflicted by the servants of Har-hat had been too\nsevere for her age-enfeebled frame to repair.  So she died, blessing\nthe two young girls who had attended her, and promising peace and\nhappiness to come.  Then they laid her in a new tomb cut in the rock\nface of the Libyan hills and wrote on her sarcophagus:\n\n\"She departed out of the land of Mizraim before her people.\"\n\nAnd this was prophecy.\n\nThus was Rachel left, but for Masanath, entirely alone.  None of the\nafflictions had overtaken her.  A mysterious Providence shielded her.\nAnubis, which she formally claimed as hers, was the only one of the\nnumerous dumb dwellers in the fan-bearer's house that had escaped.  And\nof him there is something to be told.\n\nShortly after the arrival of the Israelites in Memphis, Anubis\ndisappeared for days.\n\n\"He is gone to visit the murket,\" Masanath explained.\n\nOne noon Rachel, resting on the housetop with her hostess, saw him\nleisurely returning, by starts of interest and recollection.  Behind\nhim, walking cautiously, was a man.\n\n\"Anubis returneth,\" Rachel said, sitting up.\n\nMasanath raised herself and looked.\n\n\"Imhotep[1] plagues mine eyes, or that is the murket following him,\"\nshe exclaimed.\n\nImmediately Rachel began to tremble and, sinking back on her cushions,\nhid her face.  Masanath continued to watch the approaching man.\n\n\"If he comes shall I send for thee?\" she asked in a half-whisper.\n\nThe Israelite shook her head.  \"Only if he asks for me,\" she answered.\n\n\"A pest on the creature!\" Masanath exclaimed impatiently after a little\nsilence.  \"He is torturing the man!  Hath he forgot the place?\"\n\nShe leaned over the parapet and called the ape.  The murket looked up.\n\n\"Anubis is my guest, noble Mentu,\" she replied.  \"Wilt thou not come up\nwith him?\"\n\nThe murket looked at her a moment before he answered.\n\n\"Nay, I thank thee, my Lady.  I left the noonday meal that I might be\nled at the creature's will.  He is restless since my son is gone.\"\n\nEvery word of the murket's fell plainly on Rachel's ears.  The tones\nwere those of Kenkenes, grown older.  The statement came to her as a\ncall upon her knowledge of the young artist's whereabouts.\n\n\"Tell him--tell him--\" she whispered desperately.\n\n\"What?\" asked Masanath, turning about.\n\n\"Tell him where Kenkenes went!\"\n\nThe Egyptian leaned over the parapet.  \"Fie! he is gone!\" she said.\n\"Nay, but I shall catch him;\" and flying down through the house, out\ninto the narrow passage, she overtook the murket.\n\nThis is what she told Rachel when she returned:\n\n\"I said to him: 'My Lord, I know where Kenkenes went.'  And he said:\n'Of a truth?' in the calmest way.  'Aye,' said I.  'It hath come to\nmine ears that he went to Tape,'  'That have I known for long,' he\nanswered, after he had looked at me till I wished I were away.  'That\nhave I known for long, and why he went and why he came not back,' and\nhaving said, he smoothed my hair and told me I was not much like my\nfather, and departed without another word.  To my mind he hath\nconducted himself most strangely.  I doubt not he knows more than you\nor I, Rachel.\"\n\nTo Masanath's dismay the Israelite flung herself face down on the rugs\nand wept.  \"He is not dead; he is not dead,\" she cried.\n\nThe collapse of a composure so strong and bridled filled Masanath with\nconsternation.  Had Rachel's spirit been of weaker fiber the Egyptian's\nown forceful individuality would have longed to sustain it, but when it\nbroke in its strength she knew that here was a stress of emotion too\ndeep for her to soothe.\n\n\"Then if he is not dead,\" she said, searching for something to say,\n\"why weepest thou?\"\n\n\"Alas! seest thou not, Masanath?  He hath not returned to me; his\nfather knows his story, and if he be not dead how shall I explain his\nabsence save that he hath forgotten or repented?\"\n\n\"Not so!\" Masanath declared.  \"He is the soul of honor, and there is a\nmystery in this that the gods may explain in time.  Comfort thee,\nRachel, for there stirreth a hope in me.\"  Then with the utmost tact\nshe told the story of the finding of Kenkenes' boat and the theory\naccepted in Memphis.\n\n\"I can offer thee hope,\" she concluded, \"but I can not even guess what\nshould keep him so long.  Of this be assured, however, he did not\ndesert thee, Rachel.\"\n\nEnigmatical as it was, the incident was comforting to Rachel.\n\nSo the Nile rose and subsided, the winter came and went, and now it was\nnear the middle of March, Masanath forgot Kenkenes and remembered her\nown sorrow now that its consummation was surely approaching.  During\nthe hours that darkened gradually Rachel was to her an ever-responsive\ncomforter.  Even in the dead of night, if the weight of her care\nburdened her dreams so that she stirred or murmured, she was instantly\nsoothed till she slept again.  Usually the day did not harass her with\noppression, but if she grew suddenly afraid, Rachel was at her side to\ncomfort her--never urging, either to rebellion or submission, but ever\noffering hope.\n\nSo the little Egyptian came to love the Israelite with the love that\ndemands rather than gives--the love of a child for the mother, of the\nbenefited for the benefactor.  Gradually Rachel lost sight of her own\ntrouble in her devotion to Masanath.  She had no time for her own\nthoughts.  Each passing day brought the Egyptian's martyrdom nearer,\nand Rachel's uses hourly increased.\n\nThis day Masanath, who had been ill, was unusually downcast.\n\n\"It may be,\" she said with more cheer in her tones than had been in her\nprevious remarks, \"that I shall die before they can wed me to Rameses.\"\n\n\"Nay, why not say that the Lord God will interfere before that time?\"\n\n\"Evil and power have joined hands against me, and even the gods are\nhelpless against such collusion,\" Masanath answered drearily.\n\n\"The sorrows of Egypt are not yet at an end; mayhap the hand of the God\nof Israel will overtake the prince.\"\n\n\"Thy God is afflicting, not helping; He will not spare me.\"\n\n\"The hand of the Lord is lifted against Egypt.  Will He bless the land,\nthen, with such a queen as thou wouldst be?\"\n\n\"Nay, but thine is a strange God!  Mark thou, I doubt Him not!  But ai!\nI should face Him for ever in sackcloth and ashes lest He smite me for\nsmiling and living my life without care.\"\n\n\"Hath an ill befallen Israel?\"\n\n\"If thou art Israel, nay!  Thou hast flourished in this dread time like\na palm by a deep well.\"\n\n\"So he prospereth all his chosen.\"\n\nMasanath shook her head and looked away.  From the stairway Nan\napproached.\n\n\"Unas hath come from Tanis, my Lady,\" she said with suppressed\nexcitement.  Masanath sat up, trembling.\n\n\"Isis grant he hath not come to take thee to marriage,\" the waiting\nwoman breathed.  Rachel laid an inquiring hand on the little Egyptian's\narm.\n\n\"My father's courier,\" she explained.  \"Let him come up,\" she continued\nto Nari.  The waiting woman bowed and left her.\n\nRachel arose and took a place on the farther side of the hypostyle,\nwith the screens of matting between her and Masanath.  She was still in\nhiding.\n\nThe fat servitor came up presently.\n\n\"The gracious gods have had thee under their sheltering wings during\nthese troublous times,\" he said, bowing.  \"It is worth the trip from\nTanis to look upon thee.\"\n\n\"Thy words are fair, Unas.  How is it with my father?\" Masanath asked\nwith stiff lips.\n\n\"The gods are good to the Pharaoh.  They permit the wise Har-hat to\ncontinue in health to render service to his sovereign.\"\n\nMasanath, dreading the news, asked after it at once.  Men have killed\nthemselves for fear of death.\n\n\"Thou hast come to conduct me to court?\"\n\n\"That is the gracious will of my master.\"\n\nMasanath half rose from her seat.  \"When?\" she asked almost inaudibly.\n\n\"In twenty days; no more.  I have a mission to perform and shall go\nhence immediately.  But I shall return in twenty days, never fear, my\nLady.\"\n\nMasanath saw that he mocked her.  Her wrath was an effective\ncounter-irritant for her trouble.  She was calm again.\n\n\"Then, if thy message is delivered, go!\"\n\nHe backed out and descended the stairway.\n\nWhen she was sure he was gone she flung herself, in a paroxysm of wild\ngrief and despair, face down on her cushions.  At that moment a cold\nhand caught her arm.  She looked up and saw Rachel.  All the blue had\ngone from the Israelite's eyes, leaving them black with dreadful\nconviction.  The color had receded from her cheeks and her figure was\nrigid.\n\n\"Who was that man?\" she demanded in a voice low with concentrated\nemotion.\n\n\"Unas, my father's man.  What is amiss, Rachel?\"\n\nThe Israelite stood for a moment as though she permitted the\nintelligence to assemble all the further facts that it entailed.  Then\nshe turned away and walked swiftly toward the well of the stair.\n\n\"Rachel!  Thou--what--thou hast not answered me,\" Masanath called.\n\n\"There is naught to be said.  I--it were best that I go to my people\nnow, since thou goest to marriage,\" was the unready reply.\n\n\"Thou wilt return to thy people!  Rachel!  Nay, nay I Thou art all I\nhave.  Come back!  Come back!\" Masanath cried, running after her.\n\nRachel hesitated, trembling with a multitude of emotions.\n\n\"It were better I should go,\" she insisted, trying to escape Masanath's\nclasp.  \"If I go now I can reach my people and be hidden safely.\"\n\nThe little Egyptian flung herself upon the Israelite, weeping.\n\n\"Art thou, too, deserting me--thou, who art the last to befriend me?\nWhat have I done that thou shouldst desert me?\"\n\n\"Naught!  Naught!  Thou dear unfortunate!\" was the passionate reply.\n\"But I must go!  I must!\"\n\n\"Thou must flee from sure safety to only possible security!\" Masanath\ndemanded through her tears.  \"If I must wed this terrible prince, I\nshall put my misery to some use.  I shall ask thy liberty at his hands\nand thou shalt live with me for ever, my one comfort, my one support.\"\n\n\"But Israel departeth shortly--\"\n\n\"Thou shalt not go,\" Masanath declared hysterically.  \"I will not\nsuffer thee!  The doors shall be barred against thy departure!\"\n\nRachel turned her head away and pushed back her hair.  Her plight was\ndesperate.  Meanwhile Masanath went on.\n\n\"It is not like thee, Rachel, to desert me!  I had not dreamed thee so\nselfish--so cruel!\"\n\n\"Sister!\" Rachel cried, \"thou torturest me!\"  On a sudden Masanath\nraised her head and gazed at the Israelite.\n\n\"What possessed thee to go?\" she demanded.  \"Is it Rameses who hath\nbeset thee?\"\n\nRachel shook her head and avoided Masanath's eye.\n\n\"Tell me,\" the Egyptian insisted.  \"There is mystery in this.  What had\nmy father's man to do with thy hasty resolution to depart?\"\n\nThere was no answer.  Masanath put the Israelite back from her a little\nand repeated her question.\n\n\"I can not tell thee,\" Rachel responded slowly.\n\nSilence fell, and Masanath spoke at last, in a decided voice.\n\n\"Thou art within my house, and so under my command.  Thou shalt not\nleave me!  I have said!\"  She turned to go back to her cushions.\nRachel followed her.\n\n\"I pray thee, Masanath--\"\n\n\"Hold thy peace.  Let us have no more of this.\"\n\nRachel grew paler, and she clasped her hands as though praying for\nfortitude.  At last she broke out:\n\n\"Masanath!  Masanath!  That man--that Unas--attended the noble who\nhalted me on the road to the Nile, that morning; he was the one sent\nback to Memphis for the document of gift; he pursued me into the hills.\nHe is the servant of the man who follows me!\"\n\nThe Egyptian recoiled as though she had been struck.\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" she cried, throwing up her hands as though to ward off the\nconviction.  \"Not my father!  Not he!  Thou art wrong, Rachel!\"\n\n\"Would to the Lord God that I were, my sister!  But I am not mistaken\nin that face.  He was the one that disputed with Kenkenes--was the one\nKenkenes choked.  Never was there another man with such a voice, such a\nface, such a figure!  It is he!\"\n\nMasanath wrung her hands.\n\n\"Tell it over again.  Describe the noble to me.\"\n\n\"He was third in the procession and drove black horses--\"\n\n\"Holy Mother Isis! his horses were black.  The first two would have\nbeen the princes of the realm, the next the fan-bearer.  Nay, I dare\nnot hope that it is not true.  Since he would barter his own daughter\nfor a high place, he would not hesitate to take by force the daughter\nof another.  O Mother of Sorrows, hide me! my father! my father!\" she\nwailed.\n\nUnder the combined weight of her griefs, she dropped on the carpeted\npavement and wept without control.  All of Rachel's fear and horror\nwere swept away in a wave of compunction and pity.  She lifted the\nlittle Egyptian back upon her cushions again and, kneeling beside her,\ntook the bowed head against her heart.  Her hair fell forward and\nframed the two sorrowing faces in a shower of gold.\n\n\"Lo!  I have been a guest under thy roof and at thy board, a pensioner\nupon thy cheer, and now, even while my heart was full of gratitude,\nhave I encroached upon thy happiness and broken thine overburdened\nheart.  Forgive me, Masanath.  Let me not come between thee and thy\nfather, sister!  Let me return to my people, for Israel shortly goeth\nforth.  Doubt it not.  Then shall I be out of his reach, and the Lord\nwill not lay up the sin against him.  Furthermore, dost thou not\nremember Deborah's words while the spirit of prophecy was upon her?\nPromised she not peace for us, and happiness and long tranquillity to\nfollow these days of sorrow?  Do thou have faith, Masanath.  Cease not\nto hope, for the forces of evil have never yet triumphed wholly.\"\n\n\"Nay, but how shall that restore my pride in my father?\" Masanath\nsobbed.  \"How shall I ever think of him without the bitterness of\nshame?  What must the world think of him--of me?  Now I know what the\nmurket meant.  He knew, and Kenkenes knew and all--  Alas! alas!\" she\nbroke forth in fresh grief, \"and Hotep knows!\"\n\nRachel could say no more, for in this sorrow no comfort could avail.\n\nShe stroked the little Egyptian's hair and let the wounded heart soothe\nitself.\n\nPresently Masanath's mind wandered from the new villainy of her father\nto the memory of the older offense and she wept afresh.\n\n\"If thou goest, Rachel, there is none left to comfort me,\" she mourned.\n\"I am alone--desolate, and the powers of Egypt are arrayed against me!\"\nRachel was hearing her own plight given expression.  She put aside any\nthought of herself and applied herself to Masanath's need.\n\n\"Nay, there is Hotep,\" she whispered.  \"He loves thee, and if there is\naught in prophecy, he will comfort thee when I am gone.\"\n\n\"But thou shalt not go,\" Masanath cried.  \"Stay with me, Rachel.\"\n\n\"Thy father's servant returneth in twenty days.  As I have said, if I\ngo now, I can reach my people and be hidden safely.\"\n\nThe Egyptian held fast to the Israelite and wept.\n\n\"Nay, Rachel.  Stay with me.  Thou art all I have!\"\n\nRachel turned her head and gazed toward the south.  Across the\nhousetops, the far-off sickle of the Nile curved into a crevice between\nthe hills and disappeared.  Somewhere beyond that blue and broken\nsky-line her last claim to Egypt had been lost.  Why should she stay\nwhen Kenkenes was gone?  Meanwhile Masanath went on pleading.\n\nIf she departed, the next day's sun might dawn upon him in Memphis,\nsearching and sorrowing because he found her not.  The hour of\nseparation might be delayed for twenty days--in that time he might come.\n\n\"I will stay till my people go--if they depart within twenty days,\"\nRachel made answer.  \"But I must be gone ere thy father's servant\nreturns.\"\n\nMasanath rebelled, sobbing.\n\n\"Nay, weep not.  The hour is distant.  In that time, since these are\ndays of miracles, thy sorrows and mine may have faded like a mist.\nCome, no more.  Let us bide the workings of the good God.\"\n\n\n\n[1] Imhotep--The physician-god.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nBACK TO MEMPHIS\n\nThe valley in which Thebes Diospolis was situated was wide and the\noverflow of the Nile did not reach the arable uplands near the Arabian\nhills.  Three thousand years before, Menes had established a system of\nirrigation which had added hundreds of square miles to the agricultural\narea of Egypt, and every monarch after him had unfailingly preserved\nthe institution.  From Syene to Pelusium the country was ramified with\ncanals, and vast sums and great labor were expended yearly upon their\nkeeping.\n\nSince the work was heavy and the demand for it constant, it became a\npunitive part of each nome's administration.  Therefore, the convicts\nwhose misdeeds were too serious to be punished adequately by the\nbastinado or the fine, and yet not grave enough to merit a sentence to\nthe quarries or the mines, were sent to the canals.\n\nSo here in the canals of the eastern Thebaid, was Kenkenes, a prisoner\nknown only by a number.  His fellows were unjust public weighers,\nusurers, rioters, habitual tax-evaders, broken debtors, forgers and\nhousebreakers.\n\nThe season of toil had been unusually severe.  The native convicts had\nmore to endure than the lash, the bitter fare, the terrible sun by day,\nand a bed of dust by night, for the afflictions that befell all Egypt\nwere theirs also.  The strange prisoner among them suffered these\nthings and had further the drawback of his own physical strength to\ncombat.  The plagues overcame the weaker convicts and decimated the\nnumber of laborers, so Kenkenes was put, alone, to the work that two\nmen had done before.\n\nHowever, the accumulation of toil came upon him gradually and his\nsupple frame toughened as the demand upon it increased.  Nor was he\nsensible of pain or great weariness, for his mind was far away from the\nsun-heated desert of the eastern Thebaid.  He spoke seldom, and held\nhimself aloof from his fellow prisoners.  He regarded his taskmasters\nas if they were written authority no more animate than watered scrolls\nof papyrus.  No one doubted from the beginning that he was high-born,\nand this mark of a great fall might have exposed him to abuse; but his\ngreat strength and unusual deportment did not invite mistreatment.  In\nshort, he was looked upon as mildly mad.\n\nWhen Kenkenes had rejected the gods, hope, sundered from faith, groped\nwildly and desperately.  In his rare moments of cheer he could not\nanticipate freedom without trusting to something, and in his\nmisanthropy his doubt had placed no limit on its scope, questioning the\nhonor of king or slave.  In these better moments he wanted to believe\nin something.\n\nSo constantly had his sorrows attended him that he had come to dread\nthe night, when there was neither event nor labor to interrupt their\ndominance over his mind.  He caught eagerly at any less troublous\nproblem that might suggest itself, for he felt that he had been\nconquered by his plight.\n\nAs he lay by night, apart from the rest of the prisoners, he gazed at\none glittering star that stood in the north.  About it were\nscintillating clusters, single stars and faint streaks of\nnever-dissipated mists.  Night after night that one brilliant point had\nremained unmoved in its steady gaze from the uppermost, but the\nclusters rotated about it; the single stars were westward moving; the\nmists shifted.  And a question began to trouble him: What hand had\nmarshaled the stars?  Seb,[1] whom Toth had supplanted?  Osiris, whom\nSet destroyed?  The young man put them aside.  They were feeble.\nNothing so weak had created the mighty hosts of heaven.  So he began to\nweigh the question.\n\nWhat hand had marshaled the stars?  An accident?  Since man must\nworship something supernal, what more tremendous than the cataclysm, if\nsuch it were, that evolved the stars.  Had the same or a series of such\nevents brought forth the earth and man?  Was the accident continuously\nattendant?  Did it spread the Nile over Egypt and call it again within\nits banks every year?  Did it clothe the fields and bring them to\nharvest every revolution of the sun?  Did it hang the moon like a\nsickle in the west or lift it over the Arabian hills like a bubble of\nsilver every eight and twenty days?\n\nIf it were omnipotent, infinite and omnipresent, could it be an\naccident?  If it were, why not worship it and call it God?\n\nThe reasoning led him again in the direction of the gods, but he saw no\nreason for a multiplicity of deities.  Each member of the Egyptian\nPantheon presided over some special field of human interest or human\nenvironment.  To him, who had lived next to nature till her study had\nbecome a worship, there were no flaws in her chronology, no\nshortcomings or plethora.  The earth responded to the skies; the waters\nwere in harmony with the earth, the harvests with all.  There was unity\nin the control over the universe and the hand that was powerful enough\nto swing the moon was mighty enough to flood the Nile, was tender\nenough to nourish the harvests, was wise enough to govern men.  Where,\nthen, was any need of a superfluity of powers?\n\nBut behold, something had thrust a dread hand between the tender\nministrations of this other Thing and the benefits to men.  By this\ntime it had reached the remotenesses of Egypt that it was the God of\nthe Hebrews.  The young man arrived at this alternative in his\nreasoning: There was a minister of good and another of evil--two powers\npresiding over the earth,--or,--the sole minister was offended and had\ndeserted its charge, or had loosed upon Egypt the evil at its command.\nHere Kenkenes paused.  He could not arrive at any conclusion on the\nmatter or convince himself that he had not reasoned well.\n\nNight after night, he fell asleep upon his ponderings, but they\nreturned to him with fresh food for thought after every sunset.  The\nreconstruction of something worshipful was more fascinating than had\nbeen the demolition of the gods.  It took many a night's meditation for\nthe evolution of any fixed idea from the bewildering convection of\nthought.  And at last he had concluded only that there was one\nthing--Power--Purpose, which was greater than man.\n\nThis was not a great achievement.  He had simply permitted the\nuniversal, indefinable claim to piety, inherent in every reasoning\nthing, to assert itself.\n\nGreat and sincere and beyond expression was his amazement and his joy\nwhen a taskmaster called him from the canal-bed one day and informed\nhim that he was free.\n\nThe order was shown him at his request, and the name of the Princess\nTa-user as his champion filled him with puzzlement.  State news\nfiltered slowly down even to the level he had occupied for the past\neight months.  He had heard that it was Masanath whom the Hathors had\ndestined to wear the crown of queen to Rameses; the convicts had known\nof the supremacy of Har-hat.  He could not understand how it came that\nTa-user, lately discarded, could prevail upon the crown prince to\npersuade Meneptah, or could herself persuade the king to the overthrow\nof the fan-bearer's wishes in the matter.  Furthermore, why should the\nprincess have taken up his cause?  But he did not tarry while he\npondered.\n\nHis raiment and his money, conscientiously preserved for him by the\nauthorities, had been sent to him, and a little way outside the camp he\nstepped from the lowest to his rightful rank, swifter than he had\ndescended from it.  Covering his sun-burnt shoulders with his robes,\nassuming the circlet once again, he went toward the distant city of\nThebes, once more in spirit and dress the son of the royal murket.\n\nAt the heavy-walled prison across the Nile he asked after the signet.\nIt had not been returned with the writing.  Neither was there any word\nto him concerning his prayer to Pharaoh for the liberty of Rachel.  It\nbegan to dawn on him that he had been released only after he had been\nsufficiently punished; that he had failed in the most vital aims of his\nmission; that the signet, having been found, seemed now to be lost\nirretrievably.  For a space his relief at his freedom was overshadowed\nby chagrin, but after a little he recovered himself.  \"At least I am\nfree to care for her, now,\" he reflected.\n\nJust as he emerged from the imposing doorway of the house of the\ngovernor of police, he was jostled by a half-grown boy.  To Kenkenes,\nit seemed that the youth had been on the point of entering, but instead\nhe apologized inaudibly and walked away.\n\nA great rush of impatience, suspense, eagerness and heart-hunger fell\non the young artist the instant he knew his footsteps were turned\ntoward Memphis and Rachel.  The six days that must intervene between\nthe present time and the moment he entered the old capital seemed\ninsufferable.  Never did a lover so fume against the inexorable\ndeliberation of time and the obstinate length of distance.  The\npreliminaries to departure seemed to accumulate and lengthen--and\nlessen in importance.  Haste consumed him.  Under a momentary impulse,\nwith all seriousness he began to consider his own fleetness of foot as\nmore expedient than travel by boat.  But he put the thought aside, and\nsummoning as much patience as was possible, set about with all speed\npreparing to depart.\n\nThebes had not awakened from the coma of horror into which it had\nlapsed during the great plagues.  It was Kenkenes' first visit to the\ncity since he had left it for the desert, eight months before.  Now,\nthe change in the great capital of the south impressed itself upon him,\nin spite of his haste and his all-absorbing thought of Memphis.  The\nactivities of life seemed to be suspended.  The call to prayers could\nbe heard hourly from the great gongs of the temple at Karnak, when in\nhappier days the sound had been lost in the city's noises within the\nvery shadow of the pylons.  He could hear strains of music in religious\nprocessions, when the wind was fair, but he missed the acclaim of the\npopulace.  Besides these sounds, silence had settled over Thebes.\nBooths were closed in many instances; the streets, which ordinarily\nwere quiet, were now deserted; there were no carpets swinging from\nbalconies and housetops, and the citizens he saw were sober of\ncountenance and of garb.  So few, indeed, he met, that he noted each\npasser-by as an event.  Once, some distance away from him, he saw again\nthe youth whom he had met in the doorway of the prison.\n\nAt a caterer's he purchased supplies for a day's journey and looked\nabout him for a carrier.  Catching the boy's eye, he beckoned him, but\nthe youth turned on his heel and disappeared.  The son of the merchant\noffering himself, Kenkenes continued rapidly toward the river where he\nengaged a vessel to take him to Memphis.\n\nHe roused the boatmen into immediate activity by promises of reward for\nevery mile gained over the average day's journey.  Their passenger and\ncargo shipped, the men fell to their oars and the craft shot out of the\nstill waters by the landings into midstream and turned toward the north.\n\nAs they cleared, the private passage boat belonging to a nobleman swept\nup near to them and crossing their track took the same direction\nseveral hundred yards nearer the Libyan shore.  Kenkenes noted that it\nwas a bari of elegant pattern, deep draft and more numerously manned\nthan his.  He noted further that one of the boat's crew was the youth\nhe had met thrice in a short space at Thebes.\n\n\"Small wonder that he was not willing to serve me,\" he commented to\nhimself.\n\nIf he observed the companion boat during the next five days it was to\nremark that since his own vessel kept sturdily alongside one of\nsuperior rowing force his men were of a surety earning the promised\nreward.  When they entered the long straight stretches of the Middle\ncountry the elegant stranger dropped behind and attended Kenkenes and\nhis crew more distantly thereafter.\n\nExcept for these few occasions, Kenkenes had no thought of his\nsurroundings.  He stood in the prow and looked down the shimmering\nwidth of river, in the direction his heart had taken long before him.\nAnd when the white cliffs that proved him close to Memphis came\nshouldering up from the northern horizon, he had forgotten the stranger\nin the eager, trembling anticipations that possessed him.\n\n\n\n[1] Seb--The Egyptian Chronos.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nNIGHT\n\nOn the morning of the eighteenth day, immediately after sunrise, Rachel\ncame to the curtains over Masanath's door, and put them aside.\n\nWithin, she saw her hostess yet in her bed-gown, her hair disordered\nand her tiny feet bare.  She stood before a shrine of silver, the\nstatue of Isis in turquoise displayed therein, and an offering of\npressed dates before it.  But there was no sign of devotion or humility\nin the attitude of the Egyptian.  One plump arm was stretched toward\nthe image and the hand was tightly clenched.  Neither was there any\nreverence in her voice.\n\nRachel dropped the curtain and waited.  The words came distinctly\nthrough the linen hangings.\n\n\"Thou false one![1] thou ingrate!  Is it for this that every day I have\nsent two fat ducks to the altar in thy name?  Is it that I must be\nseparated from my beloved and wedded to the man I hate, that I have\nprayed to thee day and night?  Who hath been more faithful to thee and\nwhom hast thou served more cruelly?  Mark thou!  If thou darest to\ncause this thing to come to pass, night nor day shall I rest until I\nhave found the bones of Osiris and scattered them to the four winds of\nheaven!  So carefully shall I hide them, so widely shall I scatter\nthem, that no help of Nepthys, Toth or Anubis shall let thee gather\nthem up again!  Aye, I will do it, though I die in the doing and remain\nunburied, I swear by Set!  Remember thou!\"\n\nRachel went softly away.\n\nAfter a time she returned.  She had covered her white dress with a\nmantle of brown linen and over her head she wore a wimple of the same\nmaterial.  Her hair had been coiled and secured with a bodkin.  When\nshe put her hand under the wimple and drew it across her mouth, only\nher fair skin and blue eyes distinguished her from any other Egyptian\nlady dressed for a long journey.\n\nShe lifted the curtains and entered, and it was long before she came\nforth again.  Then her eyes were hidden and her head bowed, for she had\nbidden farewell to Masanath.  She was returning to Goshen.\n\nIn the street before the house she entered her litter and with Pepi\nwalking beside her went to the Nile.  And there they were joined by\nAnubis.  He had been absent for days, so his greeting was extravagant,\nhis loyalty inalienable.  He entered the bari Pepi had loaded with\nRachel's belongings, and would not be coaxed or menaced into\ndisembarking.\n\n\"Nay, let him come,\" Rachel said at last.  \"Thou canst set him on the\nshore opposite the tomb.  He will leave us willingly there.\"\n\nSo they pushed away.\n\nRachel wrapped her wimple about her face and removed it once only to\ngaze at the quarries of Masaarah.  They were deserted.  Months before,\ndirectly after the affliction of the Nile, the Israelites had been\nreturned to Goshen.\n\nAfter the bari had passed below the stone wharf, Rachel covered herself\nand neither spoke nor moved.  Her heart was heavy beyond words.\n\nPepi broke the silence once.\n\n\"Shall we drop the ape first, my Lady?\"\n\nRachel shook her head.  Anubis was her last hold on Kenkenes.\n\nAt the Marsh of the Discontented Soul, the bari nosed among the reeds\nand grounded gently.  Rachel stood for a moment gazing sadly across the\nstretch of sand toward the abrupt wall against which it terminated\ninland.  Pepi, already on shore, reached a patient hand toward her and\nawaited her awakening.  Anubis landed with a bound and made in a series\nof wide circles for the cliff.  His escape aroused Rachel and she\nstepped out of the boat.  After a moment's thought, she bade Pepi pull\naway from the shore and await her at a safe distance.\n\n\"I shall stay no longer than to write my whereabouts on the tomb, but\nthy boat here may attract the attention of others on the river, and\nhereafter they might ask what thou didst in this place.  And I am not\nafraid.\"\n\nThe slow Egyptian obeyed reluctantly, shaking his head as he stood away\nfrom shore.\n\nWith a sigh that was almost a sob, Rachel walked back over the sand\ntoward the cave that had been her only shelter once.\n\nShe did not fear it.  Kenkenes had crossed this gray level of sand in\nthe night and its wet border at the river had borne the print of his\nsandal.  He had made the tomb a home for her, he had knelt on its rock\npavement and kissed her hands in its dusk and had passed its threshold,\nlike a shadow, to return no more.  And here, too, was the other\nfaithful suggestion of her lost love--the pet ape.  How his fitful\nfidelities had directed themselves to her!  She caught him up as he\npassed her.  He struggled, turned in her arms, and then became passive,\nbreathing loudly.\n\nShe climbed the rough steps and sat down on the topmost one to think.\n\nShe was surrounded with old evidences of her sorrow.  Nor was there any\ncheer before her.  Escape was in prospect, but it was liberty without\nlight or peace--a gray freedom without hope, purpose or fruit.  Her\nretrospect gradually brightened, never to brilliance but to a soft\nluminance, brightest at the farthermost point and sad like the dying\ndaylight.  She summarized her griefs--danger, death, suspense, shame\nand long hopelessness.  The lonely girl's stock of unhappiness took her\nbreath away and she pushed back the wimple as if to clear away the\noppression.\n\nAnubis realized his moment of freedom was short and with an instant\nbound he was out and gone.\n\nIn no little dismay Rachel started in pursuit, but she had not moved\nten paces from the bottom of the steps before she paused, transfixed.\n\nAn Egyptian, not Pepi, was hauling a boat into the reeds.  The craft\nsecure, he turned up the slant, walking rapidly.\n\nThere was no mistaking that commanding stature.\n\nAnubis descended on him like an arrow.  The man saw the ape, halted a\nfraction of an instant, caught sight of Rachel, and with a cry, his\narms flung wide, broke into a run toward her.\n\nThe ape bounded for his shoulder, but missed and alighted at one side,\nchattering raucously.  The running man did not pause.\n\nThe world revolved slowly about Rachel, and the sustaining structure of\nher frame seemed to lose its rigidity.  She put out her hands, blindly,\nand they were caught and clasped about Kenkenes' neck.  And there in\nthe strong support of his tightening arms, her face hidden against the\nleaping heart, all time and matters of the world drifted away.  In\ntheir place was only a vast content, featureless and full of soft dusk\nand warmth.\n\nGone were all the demure resolutions, the memory of faith or unfaith.\nNothing was patent to her except that this was the man she loved and he\nhad returned from the dead.\n\nPresently she became vaguely aware that he was speaking.  Though a\nlittle unsteady and subdued, it was the same melody of voice that she\nseemed to have known from the cradle.\n\n\"Rachel!  Rachel!\" he was saying, \"why didst thou not go to my father\nas I bade thee?  Nay, I do not chide thee.  The joy of finding thee\nhath healed me of the wrench when I found thee not, at my father's\nhouse, at dawn to-day.  But tell me.  Why didst thou not go?\"\n\n\"I--I feared--\" she faltered after a silence.\n\n\"My father?  Nay, now, dost thou fear me?  Not so; and my father is but\nmyself, grown old.  He was only a little less mad with fear than I,\nwhen he discovered that thou shouldst have come to him so long ago, and\ncamest not.  It damped his joy in having me again, and I left him pale\nwith concern.  Did I not tell thee how good he is?\"\n\n\"Aye, it was not that I feared him, but that I feared that thou--\"  And\nshe paused and again he helped her.\n\n\"That I was dead?  That I had played thee false?  Rachel!  But how\ncouldst thou know?  Forgive me.  Since the tenth night I left thee I\nhave been in prison.\"\n\n\"In prison!\" she exclaimed, lifting her face.  \"Alas, that I did not\nthink of it.  It is mine to beg thy forgiveness, Kenkenes, and on my\nvery knees!\"\n\n\"So thou didst think it, in truth!\"  She hid her face again and craved\nhis pardon.\n\nBut he pressed her to him and soothed her.\n\n\"Nay, I do not chide thee.  Had I been in thy place, I might have\nthought the same.  But it is past--gone with the horrors of this\nhorrible season--Osiris be thanked!\"\n\n\"Thanks be to the God of Israel,\" she demanded from her shelter.\n\n\"And the God of Israel,\" he said obediently.\n\n\"Nay, to the God of Israel alone,\" she insisted, raising her head.\n\nHe laughed a little and patted her hands softly together.\n\n\"It was but the habit in me that made me name Osiris.  There is no god\nfor me, but Love.\"\n\n\"So long, so long, Kenkenes, and not any change in thee?\" she sighed.\n\"How hath Egypt been helped of her gods, these grievous days?\"\n\n\"The gods and the gods, and ever the gods!\" he said.  \"What have we to\ndo with them?  Deborah bade me turn from them and this I have done with\nall sincerity.  Much have I pondered on the question and this have I\nconcluded.  Egypt's holy temples have been vainly built; her worship\nhas been wasted on the air.  There was and is a Creator, but, Rachel,\nthat Power whose mind is troubled with the great things is too great to\nbehold the petty concerns of men.  My fortunes and thine we must\ndirect, for though we implored that Power till we died from the fervor\nof our supplications, It could not hear, whose ears are filled with the\nmurmurings of the traveling stars.  Why we were created and forgotten,\nwe may not know.  How may we guess the motives of anything too great\nfor us to conceive?  Whatsoever befalls us results from our use at the\nhands of men, or from the nature of our abiding-place.  We must defend\nourselves, prosper ourselves and live for what we make of life.  After\nthat we shall not know the troubles and the joys of the world, for the\ntombs are restful and soundless.  Is it not so, my Rachel?\"\n\nShe shook her head.  \"Thou hast gone astray, Kenkenes.  But thou wast\nuntaught--\"\n\n\"I have reasoned, Rachel, and the Power I have found in my ponderings,\nmakes all the gods seem little.  Thy God must manifest himself more\nfearfully; he must overthrow my reasoning before I can bow to him.  And\nif, of a surety, he is greater than the Power I have made, will he need\nmy adoration or listen to my prayers?  Nay, nay, my Rachel.  If thou\nwilt have me worship, let me fall on my face to thee--\"\n\nShe interrupted him with a quick gesture.\n\n\"Kenkenes, have I prayed in vain for the light to fall on thee?\" she\nasked sadly.\n\nHe smiled and moved closer, looking down into her face as he had done\nwhen he studied it as Athor.\n\n\"Nay, hast thou done that, and hast thou not been heard?  Thou dost but\nfix me in mine unbelief.  Did any god exist he would have heard thy\nsupplications.  Come, let us make an end of this.  There are sweeter\nthemes I would discuss.  Where hast thou been, these many months?  Not\nhere in this haunted cave?\"\n\nHis lightness sank her hope to the lowest ebb.  A sudden hurt reached\nher heart.  His unregeneracy suggested unfaithfulness to her.  Their\npositions had been reversed.  It was she that had been denied.  Duty\nreasserted itself with a chiding sting.\n\n\"I have been a guest with Masanath--\"\n\n\"The daughter of Har-hat!\" he cried, retreating a step.\n\n\"The daughter of mine enemy,\" she went on.  \"She found me here by\naccident and took me to her home in Memphis.  There Deborah died.  And\nthere, eighteen days agone, I discovered who it was that sheltered me,\nand now I return to my people.\"\n\n\"The fan-bearer did not find thee?\" he demanded at once.\n\n\"Nay.  Unseen, I looked upon his man.  Alas! the wound to the\ndaughter-love in Masanath!  On the morrow she departeth for Tanis where\nshe will wed with the Prince Rameses.\"\n\nKenkenes' hands fell to his sides.  \"Nay, now!  Of a surety, this is\nthe maddest caprice the Hathors ever wrought.  In the house of thine\nenemy!  Well for me I did not know it!  I should have died from very\napprehension.  And all these months thou wast within sight of my\nfather's doors!\"\n\n\"I saw him once,\" she said.\n\n\"And discovered not thyself!  How cruelly thou hast used thyself,\nRachel.  He would have told thee, long ago, why I came not back.\"\n\n\"Aye, now I know; but, Kenkenes, I could not go, fearing--\"\n\n\"Enough.  I forgot.  Come, let us go hence.  Memphis and my father's\nhouse await thee now.\"\n\n\"But I go to my people, even now,\" she answered, with averted face and\nunready words.\n\nKenkenes whitened.\n\n\"And leave me?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"Think me not ungrateful,\" she said.  \"I have said no words of thanks\nsince there is none that can express a tithe of my great indebtedness\nto thee.\"\n\n\"I have achieved nothing for thee.  Not even have I won thy freedom.  I\nhave failed.  But shameless in mine undeserts, I am come to ask my\nreward nevertheless.\"  He was very near to her, his face full of\npurpose and intensity, his voice of great restraint.\n\n\"That which once thou didst refuse to hear, thou hast known for long by\nother proof than words,\" he went on.  \"Let me say it now.  I love thee,\nRachel.\"  Taking her cold hands he drew her back to him.\n\n\"Once I forbore,\" he continued, the persuasive calm in his manner\nheightening, \"because I knew it would hurt thee to say me 'nay,' I told\nmyself that I was brave, then, when the actual loss of thee was\ndistant.  But thou wilt leave me now and my fortitude for thy sake is\ngone.  I am selfish because I love thee so.  The extreme is reached.  I\ncan withstand no more.  Dost thou love me, Rachel?\"\n\nWhat need for him to wait for the word that gave assent?  Was there not\neloquent testimony in her every feature and in every act of that hour\nhe had been with her?  But his hands trembled, holding hers, till she\ntold him \"aye.\"\n\n\"Then ask what thou wilt of me,\" he said, the restraint gone,\ndesperation taking its place.  \"I submit, so thou dost yield thyself to\nme.  Shall I pray thy prayers, kneel in thy shrines?  Shall I go with\nthee into slavery?  Shall I learn thy tongue, turn my back on my\npeople, become one of Israel and hate Egypt?  These things will I do,\nand more, so I shall find thee all mine own when they are done.\"\n\nBut she freed her hands to cover her face and weep.  Kenkenes sighed\nfrom the very heaviness of his unhappiness.\n\n\"Thou shouldst hate me, if, to win thee, I bowed in pretense to thy\nGod,\" he said weakly.\n\nPerhaps his words awakened a hope or perhaps they made her desperate.\nWhatever the sensation, she raised her head and spoke with a sudden\nassumption of calm:\n\n\"Naught could make me hate thee, Kenkenes, but I should know if thou\ndidst pretend.  Thou art as transparent as air.  Thou art honest,\nguileless--too good to be lost to the Bosom that must have thrilled\nwith joy when he beheld what a beautiful soul His hands had wrought.\nFew of His believers have conceived the greatness of Jehovah as thou\nhast, O my Kenkenes.  In that art thou proved ripe for His worship.\nThou hast found His might to be so limitless that thou thinkest thyself\nas naught in His sight.  In that hast thou gone astray.  The mind is\ngross that can not heed the weak and small.  Shall we say that the\nspinner of the gossamer, the painter of the rose is not fine?  Shall He\nforget His daintiest, frailest works for His mightiest?  Thou, artist\nand creator thyself, Kenkenes, answer for Him.  Nay; not so!  He, who\nhath an ear to the lapse between an hour and an hour, hath counted His\nsong-birds and numbered His blossoms.  For are they, being small, less\nwondrous than the heavens, His handiwork?  Shall He then fail to hear\nthe voice of His sons in whom He hath taken greater pains?\"\n\nShe paused for a moment and looked at him.  His expression urged her on.\n\n\"Does it not trouble thee when I, whom thou hast but lately known, am\nin sorrow?  How much more then does thine unhappiness vex His holy\nheart, who fashioned thee, who blew the breath of life into thy\nnostrils!  Wilt thou deny the Hand that led thee to me, here, in this\nhour--that cared for me during the season of distress and peril?  Nay,\nmy beloved, there is no greater virtue than gratitude.  It is an\nessential in the make-up of the great of heart--wilt thou put it out of\nthy fine nature?\"\n\nAgain she paused, and this time he answered in a half-whisper:\n\n\"Thou dost shake me in mine heresy.\"\n\n\"It is but newly seated in thy credence,\" she said eagerly, \"and is\neasy to be put aside--easier to cast off than was the idolatry.  Put it\naway in truth from thee and grieve thy Lord God no more.\"\n\n\"Would that I could, now, this hour.  We may discipline the soul and\nchasten the body, but how may we govern the mind and its disorderly\nbeliefs?  It laughs at the sober restraint of the will; my heart is\nbroken for its sake, but it is reprobate still.\"\n\n\"And I have not won thee?\" she asked, shrinking from him.\n\n\"Give me time--teach me more--return not to Goshen.  Come back to\nMemphis with me!\" he begged in rapid words, pressing after her.  \"No\nman uncovered so great a problem, alone, in a moment.  How shall I find\nGod in an hour?\"\n\n\"O had I the tongue of Miriam!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Go not yet.  Wilt thou give me up, after a single effort?  Miriam\ncould not win me, nor all thy priests.  I shall be led by thee alone.\nA day longer--an hour--\"\n\n\"But after the manner of man, thou wilt put off and wait and wait.\nThou art too able, Kenkenes, too full of power for aid of mine--\"\n\n\"Rachel, if thou goest into Goshen--\" he began passionately, but she\nclutched him wildly, as if to hold him, though death itself dragged at\nher fingers.\n\n\"Hide me!\" she gasped in a terrified whisper.  \"The servant of Har-hat!\"\n\nAt the mention of his enemy's name, Kenkenes turned swiftly about.\n\nTwo half-clad Nubians were at the river's edge, hauling up an elegant\npassage boat.  It was deep of draft and had many sets of oars.\nApproaching over the sand, hesitatingly, and with timid glances toward\nthe tomb beyond, were four others.  The foremost was the youth he had\nseen in Thebes.  The next wore a striped tunic.  Fourth and last was\nUnas.\n\n\"Now, by my soul,\" Kenkenes exclaimed aloud, \"there is no more mystery\nconcerning the boy.\"  He turned and took Rachel in his arms.\n\n\"Now, do thou test the helpfulness of thy God!  I have been tricked and\nI see no help for us.  Enter the tomb and close the door, and since\nthou lovest honor better than liberty, let this be thine escape.\"\n\nHe put his only weapon, his dagger, into her hands.  For an instant he\ngazed at her tense white face; then bending over her, he kissed her\nonce and put her behind him.\n\n\"Go,\" he said.\n\n\"What want ye?\" he demanded of the men.\n\n\"A slave,\" Unas answered evilly, stepping to the fore.\n\n\"Your authority?\"  The fat courier flourished a document and held up a\nblue jewel, hanging about his neck.  Meneptah had forgotten his promise\nto return the lapis-lazuli signet to Mentu.\n\n\"Thou art undone, knave!\" the courier added with a short laugh.  He\nclapped his hands and the four Nubians advanced rapidly upon Kenkenes.\nThere was to be no parley.\n\nKenkenes glanced at the youth.  He was not full grown,--spare, light\nand small in stature.\n\n\"I am sorry for thee, boy,\" Kenkenes muttered.  \"Thy gods judge between\nthee and me!\"\n\nThe Nubians, two by two, each man ready to spring, rushed.\n\nWith a bound, Kenkenes seized the youth by the ankles and swung him\nlike an animate bludgeon over his head.  The attacking party was too\nprecipitate to halt in time and the yelling weapon swung round,\nhorizontally mowing down the foremost pair of men like wooden pins.\nThe weight of the boy, more than the force of the blow, jerked him from\nthe sculptor's hands.  Kenkenes recovered himself and retreated.  As he\ndid so, he stumbled on a fragment of rock.  He wrenched it from its bed\nand balanced it above his head.\n\nThe powerful figure with the primitive weapon was too savage a picture\nfor the remaining pair to contemplate at close quarters.  Unas had made\nno movement to help in the assault.  He had felt the weight of the\nsculptor's hand and had evidently published the savagery of the young\nman to his assistants.  They had come prepared to capture an athletic\nmalefactor, but here was a jungle tiger brought to bay.  They retired\ntill their fallen fellows should arise.\n\nThe vanquished were struggling to gain their feet, and Kenkenes noted\nit with concern.  He was not gaining in this lull.  There were other\nstones about him.  He hurled the fragment with a sure aim, and a\nNubian, who had been overthrown, dropped limply and stretched himself\non the sand.\n\nWith a howl the remaining three charged.  They were too close for the\nsecond missile of Kenkenes to do any slaughter, and he went down under\nthe combined attack, fighting insanely.\n\n\"Slit his throat,\" Unas shrieked, tumbling on the captive, as Kenkenes'\nsuperhuman struggles threatened to shake them off.  One of the men\nraised himself and made ready to obey.  Holding to Kenkenes with one\nhand, he drew a knife from his belt and prepared to strike.\n\nAt that instant, the captive caught sight of a pale woman-face, the\neyes blazing with vengeance.  There was a flash of a white-sleeved arm\nand the thump and jolt of a dagger driven strongly through flesh.  The\nmurderous Nubian yelled and tumbled, kicking, on the sand.  He carried\na knife at the juncture of the neck and shoulder.\n\nInstantly there was a chorus of yells.\n\n\"She-devil!  Hyena!\"\n\nUnas detached himself from the struggle and plunged after Rachel, now\nin full sight of Kenkenes.  He saw her retreat, warding off the fat\ncourier with her hands; he saw her stumble and fall; he saw Anubis fly,\nwith a chatter of rage, in the face of the courier, and struggling\nmightily, he threw off his captors, and leaped to his feet.\n\nAnd then the light went out in Egypt!\n\n\n\n[1] It was not uncommon for Egyptians to threaten their gods.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nLIGHT AFTER DARKNESS\n\nA water-carrier in Syene was carrying a yoke across his shoulders and\nthe great earthen jars swung ponderously as he walked.  His bare feet\ndisturbed the red dust of the path down to the granite-basined river,\nand tiny clouds puffed out on each side of the way at every footfall.\n\nOn a housetop in Memphis, a gentlewoman, in a single gauze slip and\nmany jewels, lounged on a rug and gazed at nothing across the city.  A\nflat-shanked Ethiopian fanned her listlessly and dreamed also.\n\nA little boy, innocent of raiment, stood before a new tomb, opposite\nTanis and awaited his father who labored within.\n\nThe water-carrier collapsed in his tracks; the lady shrieked; the\nEthiopian dropped the fan; the little boy fell on his face--all at the\nsame instant.\n\nFrom the sea to the first cataract, from the deepest recess in the\nArabian hills to the remotest peak in the Libyan desert, Egypt was\nblinded and muffled and smothered in a dead, black night--even darkness\nthat could be felt.\n\nKenkenes stood still.  Harsh hands were no longer on him and for an\ninstant no sound was to be heard.  Profound gloom enveloped him.  His\nevery sense was frustrated.\n\nSome one of his assailants had found his heart with a knife and this\nwas death, he thought.\n\nThen strange, far-off murmurings filled his ears.  From the river and\nbeside him went up wild, hoarse cries of men in mortal terror.  Memphis\nbegan to drone like a vast and troubled hive.  The distant pastures\nbecame blatant and the poultry near the huts of rustics cackled in wild\ndismay.  In the hills about beasts whimpered and the air was full of\nthe screaming of bewildered birds.\n\nWith the awakening of sound, Kenkenes knew that another plague had\nbefallen Egypt.\n\nThe dread that might have transfixed him was overcome by the instant\nrecollection of Rachel's peril.  No restraining hands were upon him,\nbut he stood yet a space attempting to catch some rift in the thick\nnight.  There was not one ray of light.\n\nWhile he waited it was more distinctly borne in upon him that during\nthat space Rachel might suffer.  He would go to her.\n\nThe night made a wall ahead of him which was imminent and\nindiscernible.  It was like a great weight upon his shoulders and a\npitfall at his feet.\n\nHe crouched and fumbled before him.  His apprehension was physical; his\nmind urged him; his body rebelled.  He would have run but he could\nbarely force one foot ahead of the other.  Illusory obstacles\nconfronted him.  He waved his arms and put forward a foot.  The ground\nwas lower than he thought, and he stepped weightily.  He brought up the\nother foot laboriously, hesitatingly.  This was not advance, but\ntime-losing.\n\nMeanwhile, what might not be happening to Rachel in this chaos of gloom\nand clamor?  Why need he hide his escape?  None of these near-by\nassailants had any care now save for his own safety.\n\nHe called her name loudly and listened.\n\nThere was no answer in her voice.\n\nHe forced himself to move, but had the next step led into an abyss his\nfeet could not have been more reluctant.  He flailed the air with his\narms and accomplished another pace.  He realized that he could not\nreach, in an hour, at this rate, the spot in which he had last seen\nher.  Again he called, using his full lung power, but the only reply\nwas an echo, or the hoarse supplications of men, near him and on the\nriver.  The river!  Had Rachel gone that way too far and beyond\nretreat?  The thought chilled him with terror and horror.\n\nHe execrated himself for his trepidation and strove wildly to proceed;\nbut strive as he might he could not advance.  How long since the\ndarkness had fallen, and he had moved but two paces from the spot in\nwhich it had overtaken him!  The outcry near him subsided into low\nmurmurs of terror, and none lifted a voice in answer to his distracted\ncall.\n\nIf Rachel had been near she would have replied to him.  The\nalternatives he had to choose as her possible fate were death in the\nNile or capture by Unas.  The one he fought away from him wildly, the\nother made him frantic.  And the realization of his own helplessness,\nwith the picture of her distress at that moment, crushed him.\n\nA tangle of wind-mown reeds tripped him and pitched him to his knees\namong the high marsh growth.\n\nHe did not rise.\n\nThe babe in pain cries to his mother; the man in his maturity may\noutgrow the susceptibility to tears, but he never outwears the want of\na stronger spirit upon which to call in his hour of distress.\n\nFor Kenkenes it had been a far cry, from his careless days and his\nempyrean populous with deities, to this utter and unhappy night and one\nunseen Power.  In that time he had run the gamut of sensations from a\nlaugh to a wail.  Now was his need the sorest of all his life.  The\nmost helpful of all hands must aid him.  His fathers' gods were in the\ndust.  What of that unapproachable, unfeeling Omnipotence he had\ncreated in their stead?\n\nHe fell on his face and prayed.\n\n\"O Thou, who art somewhere behind the phantom gods that we have raised!\nTo whom all prayer ascends by many-charted paths; Thou who canst spread\nthis sooty night across the morning skies and turn to milk the bones of\nmen!  Thou who didst undo my surest plans, who dost mock my boasted\npower, who hast stripped me till my feeble self is bared to me even in\nthis dreadful night; Thou who wast a fending hand about her; who art\nher only succor now--to whom she prays--and by that sign, Thou Very\nGod! I bow to Thee.\n\n\"My lips are stiff at prayer to such as Thou.  But what need of my\ntongue's abashed interpretation of that which I would say, since even\nthe future's history is open unto Thee?\n\n\"I have run my course without craving Thine aid, and lo! here have I\nended--a voice appealing through the night--no more.\n\n\"Now, wilt Thou heed an alien's plea; wilt Thou know a stranger\npetitioning before Thy high and holy place?  How shall I win Thine ear?\nCharge me with any mission, weight me with a lifetime of penances,\nstrip me of power everlastingly, but grant me leave to supplicate Thy\nthrone.\n\n\"Not for myself do I pray, O Hidden God!  Not one jot would I overtax\nThy bounty toward me beyond the sufferance of my devotion.  But for her\nI pray--for her, out somewhere in this unlifting gloom, her tender\nmaidenhood uncomforted--with night, with death, with long dishonor\nthreatening her.  Attend her, O Thou august Warden!  Let her not cry\nout to Thee in vain!  Be Thou as a wall about her, as a light before\nher, as a firm path beneath her feet.  Do Thou as Thou wilt with me.\nLo! I offer up myself as ransom for her--myself--all I have!  Take her\nfrom me, deny mine eyes the sight of her for ever, blot me wholly out\nof her heart, yield me over to the wrath of mine enemies, and to Thine\nunknowable vengeance thereafter; but save her, Great God! save her from\nher enemy!\n\n\"Dost Thou hear me, O Holy Mystery?  Is there no sign, no manifestation\nthat Thou dost attend?\n\n\"Nay, but I know that Thou hearest me!  By my faith in Thy being I know\nit, Lord!\"\n\nPeace fell on him and he slept.\n\nIn after years Kenkenes remembered only vaguely the long hours of that\nblack and lonely vigil.  This climax to a calamitous space eight months\nin length might have crushed a less sturdy spirit, but he was\nmystically sustained.\n\nWith the exception of a few intervals of short duration most of the\ntime was spent in sleep, so profound and dreamless as to border on\ncoma.  The reeds had received him on a bed of crushed herbage and the\nupstanding ranks about him sheltered him from the blowing sand.  The\nwhilom assailants of the young man were not so kindly served by the\ngods to whom they appealed loudly and frequently.  The city in the\ndistance moaned and complained and the hills were full of fear.\n\nIn one of his profound lapses of slumber a hairy paw felt of Kenkenes'\nface.  Later a drifting boat nosed about among the reeds at the water's\nedge.  Presently one of the crew cried out, and a second voice said:\n\n\"Nay, fear not; it is an ape, by the feel of him.  Toth is with us.  It\nis a good omen; let him not go forth.\"\n\nSilence fell again, for the boat drifted on.\n\nAt last dawn-lights reddened about the horizon; stars faded out of the\nuppermost as naturally as if they had been there during the three days\nof unlifting night.  All Egypt showed up darkly in the coming day.\n\nKenkenes, in his couch of reeds, slept on peacefully.  The mid-morning\nsun shone in his face before he awakened.\n\nHe leaped to his feet, cramped and stiffened by his long inactivity,\nand looked about him.  Near by was a disturbed spot of wide\ncircumference.  Here had the struggle taken place.  Here, also, some of\nthe sand was stained with the blood of the Nubian, who had been wounded\nby Rachel.  Fresh footprints led toward the water.  He followed them\nwith a wildly beating heart.  There were no marks of a little sandal.\nAt the Nile edge the deep line cut by a keel was still visible in the\nwet sand.  His own boat and the other were gone.  All other signs had\nbeen obliterated, for the wind had been busy during the darkness.\n\nAcross the cultivated land, or rather the land which would have been\nwheat-covered but for the locusts, he saw the huts of rustics, and to\neach of these he went, asking of the pallid and terror-stricken tenants\nif Rachel had come to them.  Gaining no information, he went next to\nMasaarah, appeasing his hunger with succulent roots plucked from the\nloam beside the river.  The quarries were deserted, the pocket in the\nvalley, where the Israelites had pitched their tents, was as solitary\nas it had ever been.  There was no place here to shelter the lost girl.\n\nThere were the huts to the north of the Marsh and the deserted village\nof Toora to search.  He retraced his steps.\n\nAs he came again before the tomb he went to it.  Half-way up the steps\nhe stopped.\n\nOn a blank face of the rock, sheltered by a jutting ledge above it, was\nan inscription, a little faint, but he ascribed that to the poor\nquality of the pencil and roughness of the tablet.  This is what he\nread:\n\n\n\"Her whom thou seekest thou wilt find in the palace of Har-hat, in the\ncity.\"\n\n\nPerhaps under other circumstances Kenkenes would have understood\ncorrectly the origin and intent of the writing.  Already, however, his\nfears pointed to the palace of Har-hat as the prison of Rachel, and\nthis faint inscription was corroboration.  It appealed to him as\nvillainy worthy of the fan-bearer.  It was like his exquisite\neffrontery.\n\nKenkenes whirled away with an indescribable sound, rather like the\nsnarl of an infuriated beast than an expression of a reasoning\ncreature.  Dashing down the sand, he plunged into the Nile and swam\nwith superhuman speed for the Memphian shore.\n\nHe defied death as a maniac does.  The river was a mile in width and\nteeming with crocodiles.  But the same saving Providence that shields\nthe adventurous child attended him.  He clambered up the opposite bank\nand struck out for Memphis on a hard run.\n\nHe had but one purpose and that was to find Har-hat and strangle him\nwith grim joy.  The rescue of Rachel did not occur to him, for in his\nexcited mind the simple touch of the fan-bearer's hand was sufficient\nto kill her with its dishonor.\n\nHe did not remember anything that Rachel had told him concerning her\nlife in Memphis, or that Har-hat was in Tanis, and Masanath like to be\nthe only resident in the fan-bearer's palace.  His reasoning powers\nabandoned their supremacy to all the fierce impulses toward revenge and\nbloodletting of which his nature was capable.\n\nThough it was day when he entered the great capital of the Pharaohs,\nthe streets were almost deserted, and every doorway and window showed\ninteriors brilliant with a multitude of lamps.  Memphis was prepared\nagainst a second smothering of the lights of heaven.\n\nThe few pedestrians Kenkenes met fell back and gave room to the\ndripping apparition which ran as if death-pursued.  One told him on\ndemand where the mansion of Har-hat stood, and after a few slow minutes\nhe was within its porch.  He flung himself against the blank portal and\nbeat on it.  He did not pause to await a response.  He felt within him\nstrength to batter down the doors if they did not open.\n\nPresently an old portress came forth from a side entry and Kenkenes\nseized her.  Fearing that she might cry out and defeat his purpose, he\nput his hand over her mouth.\n\n\"Your master,\" he demanded hoarsely.  \"Where is he?  Answer and answer\nquietly!\"\n\nFor a moment she was dumb with terror.\n\n\"Gone,\" she gasped at last when Kenkenes shook her.\n\n\"Where?  When?\" he insisted.\n\n\"To Tanis, eight months since!\"\n\n\"Was an Israelite maiden brought here?  Answer and truly, by your\nimmortal soul!\"\n\n\"Many months ago, aye, but she departed three days ago for Goshen,\" the\nold woman answered falteringly.\n\n\"And she came not back?\"\n\n\"Nay.\"\n\n\"Swear, by Osiris!\"\n\n\"By Osiris--\"\n\n\"And the Lady Masanath?\"\n\n\"Gone, also, to Tanis with Unas, this morning.\"\n\n\"Thou liest!  In the dark?\"\n\n\"Nay, I swear by Osiris,\" she protested wildly.  \"The light came in\nwith the hour of dawn.\"\n\nKenkenes released her and hurried away.  He did not doubt that the old\nwoman had told the truth.  He had overslept the light.  Unas could not\nhave taken Rachel and Masanath to Tanis together.  The Israelite would\nhave been sent on before.\n\nThere was yet Atsu to question, and then--on to Tanis to rescue Rachel\nor to avenge her.\n\nHe met no one until he reached a bazaar of jewels near the temple\nsquare.  An armed watchman stood before the tightly closed front of the\nlapidary's booth, above the portal of which a flaring torch was stuck\nin a sconce.\n\n\"The house of Atsu?\" the watchman repeated after Kenkenes.  \"Atsu is no\nlonger a householder in Memphis.\"\n\n\"When did he depart?\"\n\n\"Eight or nine months ago, at the persuasion of the Pharaoh.\"\n\nThe lightness of the man's manner irritated the already vexed spirit of\nthe young artist.\n\n\"Be explicit,\" he demanded sharply.  \"What meanest thou?\"\n\n\"He was stripped of his insignia and reduced to the rank of ordinary\nsoldier,\" the man answered, \"for pampering the Israelites.  He is with\nthe legions in the north.\"\n\n\"Hath he kin in the city?\"\n\n\"Nay, he is solitary.\"\n\nKenkenes walked away unsteadily.  The nervous energy that had upborne\nhim during his intense excitement was deserting him.  His hunger and\nweariness were asserting themselves.\n\nHe turned down the narrow passage leading to his father's house.  And\nsuddenly, in the way of such vagrant thoughts, it occurred to him that\nthe inscription on the tomb had been pointedly denied by the old\nwoman's statements.\n\n\"Ah, I might have known,\" he said impatiently.  \"Rachel put the writing\nthere for me when she left the tomb for the shelter Masanath offered\nher in Memphis.\"\n\nThe admission cheered him somewhat, but it did not repair his exhausted\nforces.  By the time he reached his father's door he was unsteady,\nindeed, and beyond further exertion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nTHE MURKET'S SACRIFICE\n\nThe murket sat at his place in the work-room, but no papyrus scrolls\nlay before him; his fine implements were not in sight; the ink-pots and\npens were put away and the table was clear except for a copper lamp\nthat sputtered and flared at one end.  The great artist's arms were\nextended across the table, his head bowed upon them, his hands clasped.\nThe attitude was not that of weariness but of trouble.\n\nKenkenes hesitated.  For the first time since the hour he left Memphis\nfor Thebes, months before, he felt a sense of culpability.  He\nrealized, with great bounds of comprehension, that the results of his\nown trouble had not been confined to himself.  He began to understand\nhow infectious sorrow is.\n\nHe crossed the room and laid a trembling hand on the murket's shoulder.\nInstantly the great artist lifted his head and, seeing Kenkenes, leaped\nto his feet with a cry that was all joy.\n\nThe young man responded to the kiss of welcome with so little composure\nthat Mentu forced him down on the bench and summoned a servant.\n\nThe old housekeeper appeared at the door, started with a suppressed cry\nand flung herself at her young master's feet.  He raised her and\ntouched her cheek with his lips.\n\n\"Bring me somewhat to eat and drink, Sema,\" he said weakly.  \"I have\nfasted, since I returned here, well-nigh four days agone.\"\n\nThe stiff old creature rose with a murmur half of compassion, half of\npromise, and went forth immediately.\n\nThe murket stood very close to his son, regarding him with\ninterrogation on his face.\n\n\"Memphis was full of famishing at the coming of dawn this morning,\" he\nsaid.  \"For the first time in my life I knew hunger, and it is a\nfearsome thing, but thou--a shade from Amenti could not be ghastlier.\nWhere hast thou been--what are thy fortunes, Kenkenes?\"\n\n\"Rachel--thou knowest--\" Kenkenes began, speaking with an effort.\n\n\"Aye, I know.  Didst find her?\"\n\n\"Aye, and lost her, even while I fought to save her!\"\n\n\"Alas, thou unfortunate!\" Mentu exclaimed.  \"Of a surety the gods have\npunished thee too harshly!\"\n\nKenkenes was not in the frame of mind to receive so soft a speech\ncomposedly.  A strong tremor ran over him and he averted his face.  The\nmurket came to his side and smoothed the damp hair.\n\nThe old housekeeper entered with broth and bread and a bottle of wine.\nMentu broke the bread and filled the beaker, while Sema stood aloof and\ngazed with troubled eyes at the unhappy face of the young master.\nSilent, they watched him eat and drink, grieved because of the visible\neffort it required and because no life or strength returned to him with\nthe breaking of his fast.  When he had finished, the bowl and platter\nwere taken away, but at a sign the old housekeeper left the wine with\nthe murket.  After she had gone Mentu glanced at the draggled dress of\nhis son.\n\n\"Thou needest, further, the attention of thy slave, Kenkenes,\" he\nsuggested.\n\nThe young man shook his head.  \"Not yet,\" he said.  \"My time is short,\nand it is thy help I need.\"\n\nThe murket sat down beside his son.\n\nWithout further introduction Kenkenes plunged into his story.  He had\nhad no time to tell it four days before.  Then he had asked for Rachel\nwith his second word, and finding her not, had rushed immediately to\nthe search for her.\n\nMentu heard without comment till the story was done.  Most of it he had\nknown from Hotep, and only the recent events at the tomb excited him.\n\nWhen Kenkenes made an end the murket brought his clenched hand down on\nthe table with a force that made the lamp wink and the implements\nrattle in their boxes above him.\n\n\"Curse that smooth villain Har-hat!\" he cried in a tempest of wrath.\n\"A murrain upon his greedy, crafty lust!  The gods blast him in his\nknavery!  Now is my precious amulet in his hands.  Would it were\nwhite-hot and clung to him like a leech!\"\n\nKenkenes said nothing.  The murket's wrath was more comforting to him\nthan tender words could have been.\n\n\"Who hath the ear of Meneptah?\" the murket continued with increasing\nvehemence.  \"Har-hat!  And behold the miseries of Egypt!  Shall we put\nany great sin past the knave who sinneth monstrously, or divine his\nmethods who is a master of cunning?  The land is entangled in\ndifficulty!  Give me but a raveling fiber to pull, and, by the gods, I\nknow that we shall find Har-hat at the other end of it!  He is\ndestroying Egypt for his ambition's sake!  And that a son of mine--me!\nthe right hand of the Incomparable Pharaoh--should furnish meat for his\nrending!\"  His voice failed him and he shook his clenched hands high\nabove his head in an abandon of fury.\n\n\"Did I not tell thee?\" he burst forth again, pointing a finger at his\nson.  \"Did I not warn thee from the first?\"\n\nKenkenes raised his head.\n\n\"Can you avoid a knave if he hath designs on you?\" he asked.  \"Have I\nerred in crossing his will?  Have I sinned in loving and protecting her\nwhom I love?\"\n\nMentu's hands fell down at his sides.  The simple questions had\nsilenced him.  His son was blameless now that he had expiated his\noffenses against the law, and from the moral standpoint his persistence\nin his claim on Rachel was just--praiseworthy.\n\n\"Nay,\" he said sullenly, \"but since thou didst love the girl, how came\nit that thou didst not wed her long ago and save her this shame and\ndanger?\"\n\nHe saw the face of his son grow paler.\n\n\"The bar of faith lay between us,\" Kenkenes answered.  \"I was an\nidolater, she a worshiper of the One God.  She would not wed with me,\ntherefore.\"\n\nThe murket looked at his son, stupefied with amazement.\n\n\"Thou--thou--\" he said at last, his words coming slowly by reason of\nhis emotions.  \"The Israelite rejected thee!\"\n\nKenkenes bent his head in assent.\n\n\"Thou!  A prince among men--a nobleman, a genius--a man whom all\nwomen--Kenkenes! by Horus, I am amazed!  And thou didst endure it, and\ncontinue to love and serve and suffer for her!  Where is thy pride?\"\n\nKenkenes stopped him with a motion of his hand.\n\n\"A maid's unwillingness is obstacle enough,\" he said.  \"Shall a man\nsummon further difficulty in the form of his self-esteem to stand in\nthe way of his love?  Nay, it could not be, and that thou knowest, my\nfather, since thou, too, hast loved.  When a man is in love it is his\npride to be long-suffering and humble.  But there is naught separating\nus now save it be the hand of Har-hat.\"\n\n\"So much for Israelitish zeal!  Thou hast been a pawn for her to play\nduring these months.  Long ago had she surrendered if thou hadst been--\"\n\nKenkenes smiled.  \"She did not surrender.  It was I.\"\n\n\"Thy faith?\" the murket asked in a voice low with earnestness.\n\n\"Thou hast said!\"\n\nA dead silence ensued.  Kenkenes may have awaited the outbreak with a\nquickening of the heart, but it did not come.  Instead, the murket sat\ndown on the bench and gazed at his son intently.\n\nAfter a long interval he spoke.\n\n\"Thus far had I hoped that thou wast taken by the Israelite but in thy\nfancy.  The hope was vain.  Thou art in love with her.\"\n\nKenkenes endured the steady gaze and waited for Mentu to go on.\n\n\"There is no help for thee now,\" the murket continued stoically.  \"If\nthe gods will but tolerate thee till the madness leaves thee after thou\nart wedded and satisfied, it may be that thou wilt turn again to the\nfaith of thy fathers.  But if I would fix thee in thine apostasy I\nshould try to persuade thee now.\"\n\n\"Aye, and further, I should be moved to urge thee into heresy,\" calmly\nresponded Kenkenes.\n\nThe murket flung up one hand in a gesture of dissent, and arising,\nwalked toward the door of the workroom.  There he leaned his shoulder\nagainst the frame and looked out at the night.  Presently Kenkenes went\nto him and laid his hand on his sleeve.\n\nThe murket spoke first, proving what thoughts had been his during the\nlittle space of silence.\n\n\"There is little patriotism in thee, Kenkenes.  Thou wouldst wed with\none of Egypt's enemies and bow down to the God which has devastated thy\ncountry.\"\n\nThe hand on his sleeve fell.\n\n\"What did Egypt to Israel for a hundred years before these miseries\ncame to pass?\" Kenkenes asked.  \"Let me tell thee how Egypt hath used\nRachel.  She is free-born, of noble blood, even as thou art and as I\nam.  Her house was wealthy, the name powerful.  There were ten of her\nfamily--four of her mother's, six of her father's.  Rameses, the\nIncomparable Pharaoh, had use for their treasure and need of their\nlabor in the brick-fields and mines.  This day Rachel possesses not\neven her own soul and body, nor one garment to cover herself, nor a\nsingle kinsman to shield her from the power of her masters!  Well for\nEgypt that the God of Israel hath not demanded of Egypt treasure for\ntreasure seized, toil for toil compelled, lash for lash inflicted,\nblood for blood outpoured!  This desolation had been thrice desolate\nand Egypt's glory gone like the green grass in the breath of the\nKhamsin!  And yet would such justice restore to Rachel the love she\nlost, the comfort that should have been hers?  Nay, not even the\nsorcery of Mesu might do that.  The debt of Egypt to Rachel is most\ncheaply discharged by the service of one life for the ten which were\ntaken from her!\"\n\n\"Let be; Israel shall cumber Egypt no longer,\" the murket muttered\nafter a little; \"and the quarrel between them shall be at an end.  The\nhour approacheth when every Hebrew shall leave Egypt--shall be driven\nforth if he leave it not willingly.\"\n\n\"Thinkest thou so of a truth?\" Kenkenes asked earnestly.\n\n\"Of a truth.  Thou seest the plight of the nation.  Can it endure\nlonger?  And if thou takest this Israelite to wife--\"  He paused\nabruptly, for he had pressed the problem and a solution opened itself\nso suddenly that it staggered him.  Kenkenes understood the pause.\nAgain he laid his hand on the murket's sleeve.\n\n\"On this very matter would I take counsel with thee, my father,\" he\nsaid gently.  \"The night grows, and my time is short.\"\n\nMentu turned an unhappy face toward his son and followed him back to\nthe bench they had left.  He felt, intuitively, that there was further\ngrave purpose in the young man's mind and there was dread in his\npaternal heart.\n\n\"Thou knowest, my father,\" Kenkenes began, \"that I may not give over my\nlove for Rachel.  I am free to love her and she to love me.  There is\nno obstacle between us.  Such love, therefore, in the sight of heaven,\nbecometh a duty and carrieth duty with it.  In the spirit I am as\nthough I had been bound to her by the marrying priests.  Her griefs are\nmine to comfort, her wrongs mine to avenge.\n\n\"She is gone and there are these three surmises as to her whereabouts.\nShe may have escaped and returned to Goshen; she may have wandered to\ndeath in the Nile; she may have been taken by Har-hat.\"\n\nHe paused, and Mentu gazed fixedly at the lamp.\n\n\"I am going to Tanis,\" Kenkenes began, with forced restraint.\n\n\"Wherefore?\" Mentu demanded.\n\n\"To discover if Har-hat hath taken her!\"\n\n\"Go on.\"\n\n\"If he hath the Lord God make iron of my hands till I strangle him!\"\n\n\"Madman!\" Mentu exclaimed.  \"Thou wilt be flayed!\"\n\n\"Be assured that I shall earn the flaying!  The punishment shall be no\nmore savage than the deed that invites it!  But enough of that.  If I\ngo to Tanis and find her the spoil of the fan-bearer, thine augury will\nhold, I return not to Memphis. . . .  If she was lost in the Nile--!\"\n\n\"Nay!  Nay! put away the thought if it wrench thee so.  No man removed\nfrom his place during that night.  We were caught and transfixed at\nwhat we did.  For three days I sat in the court, where I was overtaken\nby the darkness, and in that time I stirred not except to slip down on\nthe bench and sleep.  The palsy seized all Memphis likewise--not one of\nmy neighbors moved.  But the resident Hebrews of the city seemed to\nhave been warned, or else the favor of their strange God was with them.\nFor it is said they came and went as they willed, carrying lamps.\"\n\nKenkenes looked at his father with growing hope.\n\n\"If that be true,\" he said eagerly, \"if the palsy fell upon Egypt and\nnot upon Israel, Rachel may have fled safely--she may have escaped\nthem!\"  Mentu assented with a nod.\n\n\"She may have returned to her people,\" Kenkenes went on.  \"And if she\nbe in Goshen I must reach her, find her, before her people depart.\nHaving found her--\" but Kenkenes stopped and made no effort to resume.\nMentu set his teeth, his hands clenched and his whole figure seemed to\ndenote intense physical restraint.  Suddenly he whirled upon his son.\n\n\"Thou wilt go with her, out of Egypt?\" he demanded.\n\n\"I shall go with her, out of Egypt.\"\n\nMentu gained his feet.  \"And dost thou remember that while I live my\ncommands are yet law over thee?\" he continued in a tone of increasing\nintensity.  \"Mine it is to say whether thou shall do this thing or do\nit not!\"\n\nHe turned away and strode back to his post against the door-frame, his\nface toward the night.  Kenkenes had slowly risen to his feet.  Not for\nan instant did his father's authority appear to him as an obstacle.  He\nknew that the murket's outburst was a final stand before capitulation.\nKenkenes was troubled only for what might follow after his father had\nsurrendered.\n\nHe followed the murket to the door and laid his arm across the broad\nshoulders.\n\n\"Father,\" he said persuasively.  Mentu did not move.\n\n\"Look at me, father,\" Kenkenes insisted.  Still no movement.  The young\nman put his arm closer about the shoulders, and lifting his hand, would\nhave turned the face toward him.   But the palm touched a wet cheek.\n\nThe murket had consented.\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\nAn hour later, when it was far into the second watch, Kenkenes changed\nhis dress and made himself presentable.  Then, without further counsel\nwith the murket, he went silently and unseen to the portal of Senci's\nhouse.  After a long time, for her household had been asleep, he was\nadmitted, and the Lady Senci, perplexed and surprised, joined him in\nthe chamber of guests.\n\nWith few and simple words he told his story, pictured his father's\nloneliness and, while she wept silently, begged her to become his\nfather's wife--on the morrow.\n\nThere was no long persuasion; the need of the occasion was sufficient\neloquence for the murket's noble love.\n\nAn hour after the next day's sunrise Mentu and Senci repaired together\nto the temple, and when they returned Senci went not again into her own\nhouse.\n\nIn preparing for his departure, Kenkenes asked at the hands of his\nfather, not his patrimony, for that would have been an embarrassment of\nwealth, but such portion of it as might be carried in small bulk.  In\nmid-afternoon Senci brought him a belt of gazelle-hide and in this had\nbeen sewed a fortune in gems.  The murket had given his son his full\nportion and more.\n\nAt the close of day, with his face set and colorless, Kenkenes stepped\ninto the narrow passage before his father's house.  The great portal\nclosed slowly and noiselessly behind him.  He did not pause, but sprang\ninto his chariot and was driven rapidly away.\n\nAt a landing near the northern limits of Memphis he took a punt, bade\nfarewell to his sad-faced charioteer and pushed off.\n\nThe broken bluffs about Memphis, the temples, the obelisks, the Sphinx,\nthe pyramids melted into night behind him.  He kept his head down that\nhe might not look his last on his native city.\n\nHe had reached that point where endurance must conserve itself.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nAT THE WELL\n\nOnce out of its confines the Nile divided its flood over and over again\nand hunted the sea in long meanderings over the flat Delta.  A few\nmiles above On the separation began and continued to the marshy coast\nfar to the north.  From the summit of the great towers of Bubastis and\nSais the glistening sinuosities of its branches might be discerned for\nmany miles.\n\nThere was no thirst in the Delta.  Nowhere did the capillary, the\nirrigation canal, fail to reach, even now in the season of desolation\nand loss.  Half-green stubble, hail-mown and locust-eaten, showed where\na wheat-field had been.  Regular, barren rows were the only evidences\nof the lentil and garlic gardens in happier days, and the location of\npastures might be guessed by the skeletons that whitened the uplands.\nThrough fringes of leafless palm trees, stone-rimmed pools, like\nsplashes of quicksilver or facets of sapphire, reflected the sky.\n\nHalf-way between On and Pa-Ramesu was one of these basins, elliptical\nin shape and walled with rough limestone.  Moss grew in the crevices of\nthe masonry and about it had been a sod of velvet grass.  Black beetles\nslipped in and out among the stones; dragon-flies hung over the surface\nof the water and large ants made erratic journeys about the rough bark\nof the naked palms.  Whoever came dipped his goblet deep, for there the\nwater was cold.  If he gazed through to the bottom he detected a\nconvection in the sand below.  This was not a reservoir, but a well.\n\nOnce only had it failed, but then Hapi, the holy river, had been\nsmitten also.\n\nThe spring bubbled up at the division of a road.  One branch led along\nthe northern bank of the Rameside canal, eastward to Pa-Ramesu.  The\nother crossed the northwestern limits of Goshen and went toward Tanis,\nin the northeast.  Round about the little oasis were the dark circles\nwhere the turf fires of many travelers had been.  The merchants from\nthe Orient entering Egypt through the great wall of Rameses II, across\nthe eastern isthmus, passed this way going to Memphis.  Here\nPhilistine, Damascene, Ninevite and Babylonian had halted; here\nEgyptian, Bedouin, Arabian and the dweller of the desert had paused.\nThe earth about the well was always damp, and the top-most row of the\ncurb was worn smooth in hollows.  This, therefore, was a point common\nto native and alien, the home-keeping and the traveler, the faithful\nand the unbeliever.\n\nThe strait of Egypt was sore and the aid of the gods essential.  The\npriests had seized upon the site as a place of prayers, placed a tablet\nthere, commanding them, and a soldier to see that the command was\nobeyed.\n\nThe soldier was in cavalry dress of tunic and tasseled coif, with pike\nand bull-hide shield and a light broadsword.  He was no ordinary bearer\nof arms.  He walked like a man accustomed to command; he turned a cold\neye upon too-familiar wayfarers and startled them into silence by the\nlevel blackness of his low brows.  Wealth, beauty, age nor rank won\nservility or superciliousness from him.  The Egyptian soldier was not\nobliged to cringe, and this one abode by the privilege.\n\nHe was a man of one attitude, one mood and few words.  The Memnon might\nas well have been expected to smile.  The earliest riser found him\nthere; the latest night wanderer came upon him.  When the day broke,\nafter the falling of the dreadful night, the brave or the thirsty who\nventured forth saw him at his post, silent, unastonished, unafraid.\n\nOnce only the soldier had been seen to flinch.  Merenra, now nomarch of\nBubastis, but whilom commander over Israel at Pa-Ramesu, paused one\nnoon with his train at the well.  The governor glanced at the soldier,\nglanced again, shrugged his shoulders and rode away.  The man-at-arms\nwinced, and often thereafter stood in abstracted contemplation of the\ndistance.\n\nJust after sunrise on the second day following the passing of the\ndarkness, four Egyptians, lank, big-footed and brown, came from the\nnortheast.  By their dress they had been prosperous rustics of the\nun-Israelite Delta.  But the healthful leanness, characteristic of the\nrace, had become emaciation; there was the studious unkemptness of\nmourning upon them, and they, who had ridden once, before the plagues\nof murrain and hail, traveled afoot.\n\nThey were evidently journeying to On, where the benevolence of Ra would\nfeed them.\n\nThey said nothing, looking a little awed at the soldier and puzzled at\nthe stela.  The warrior read the command and the unlettered men fell on\ntheir knees, each to a different god.  The Egyptian was not ashamed of\nhis piety nor did he closet himself to pray.\n\n\"Incline the will of the Pharaoh to accord with the needs of the hour,\nO thou Melter of Hearts!\"\n\n\"Rescue the kingdom, O thou Controller of Nations, for it descendeth\ninto death and none succoreth it!\"\n\n\"Deal thou as thou deemest best with the destroyer of Egypt, O thou\nMagistrate over Kings!\"\n\nThus, in these fragments of prayers was it made manifest that the worm\nwas turning, apologetically, it is true, but surely.  For once the\nprescribed defense of the Pharaoh was ignored.  \"It is not the fault of\nthe Child of the Sun, but his advisers, who are evil men and full of\nguile.\"  And in the odd perversity of fate for once its observance\nwould have been just.\n\nHaving fulfilled the command and relieved their souls, the four arose\nand went their way, soft of foot and stately of carriage, after the\nmanner of all their countrymen.\n\nNext, descending with a volley of yells, a rout of the nomad tribes,\nmounted on horses, came from the southwest.\n\nThey were chiefly Bedouins, their women perched behind them with the\ntiniest members of their broods.  But every child that could bestride a\nhorse was mounted independently.  Whatever worldly possessions the\nnomads owned were bound in numerous flat rolls on other horses which\nthey led.\n\n\"Hail!\" they shouted to the warrior, for the desert races are prankish\nand unabashed.  A younger among them, without wife or goods, drew his\ngaunt horse back upon its scarred haunches and saluted the soldier.\n\n\"Greeting, bearer of many arms!\" he said, and then addressed a near-by\ncompanion as if he were rods away.  \"Behold leaden-toed Egypt, cumbered\nwith defense!  Bull-hide for shield instead of the safe remoteness of\ndistance, blade and pike for vulgar intimacy in combat instead of the\nnice aloofness of the launched spear--\"\n\n\"Go to, thou prater!\" interrupted a companion.  \"If thou lovest Bedouin\nwarfare so well, wherefore dost thou join thyself to the Israelite who\nfights not at all?\"\n\n\"Spoil!\" retorted the first, \"and new fields, O waster of the air!\nHast thou not heard of Canaan?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" shouted a third, \"he hath an eye only to some heifer-eyed\nbrickmaker among them!\"\n\nThe soldier moved forward to the group and grounded his pike.  His\nattitude interested them, and in the expectant silence he repeated the\nwriting on the tablet.\n\n\"So saith the writing,\" the first speaker began, but the warrior\ninterrupted him.\n\n\"It behooves thee to obey.  Thou art yet within the reach of the\nawkward arms of Egypt.\"\n\n\"One against a troop of Bedouins,\" the trifler laughed.\n\n\"And there are a thousand within sound of my beaten shield,\" was the\nharsh answer.\n\n\"Come,\" said an elder complacently, \"it does no harm to ask the\nalleviation of any man's hurt, and it may keep us whole for the journey\ninto Canaan.\"  He dismounted, and in a twinkling the company, even to\nthe babes, had followed his example.  Each dropped to his haunches, his\nhands spread upon his knees, and there was no sound for a few minutes.\n\nThen they rose simultaneously and, flinging themselves upon their\nhorses, departed as they came, like the whirlwind, over the road to\nPa-Ramesu and the heart of Goshen.\n\nThese were part of the mixed multitude that went with Israel.\n\nThe dust of their going had hardly settled before a drove of\nhosannahing Israelites approached from the direction of the Nile.  The\nsoldier saw them without seeming to see and, moving toward the tablet,\na four-foot stela of sandstone, planted himself against its inscribed\nface, and, resting his pike, contemplated the west.\n\nThe ragged rout approached, singing and shouting, noisy and of doubtful\ntemper.  A cloud of dust came with them and the odor of stall and of\nquarry sweat.\n\nWant plays havoc with the Oriental's appearance.  It acutely\naccentuates his already aggressive features and reduces his color to\nghastliness.  The approaching Hebrews were studies of sharp angularity\nin monochrome, and the soul which showed in the eyes was no longer a\nspiritual but a ravenous thing.\n\nBeing something distinctly Egyptian, the soldier brought their actual\ntemper to the surface.  They had suffered long, but their time had come.\n\nThe foremost flung themselves into his view and halted, hushed and\namazed.  When those behind them tried to press forward with jeers, they\nturned with a frown and a significant jerk of the head in the direction\nof the man-at-arms.  These, also, subsided and passed along the sign of\nsilence.  A leader in the front rank walked away and took a drink,\nusing his hands as a cup.  The whole silent herd followed and did\nlikewise, solemnly and thoughtfully.\n\nPresently the bolder began to whisper and conjecture among themselves,\nhushing the sibilant surmises of the humbler with a cautioning frown.\nAn old man, who could not lower his voice, quavered a resolve to \"ask\nand discover,\" and started toward the soldier to put his resolution\ninto effect.  A wiry old woman seized him and drew him back.\n\n\"Wilt thou humiliate him with thy notice, meddler?\" she demanded in a\nfierce whisper.  \"See him not, and it will be a mercy to him in his\nhour of abasement,--him who hath been balsam to the wound of Israel!\"\n\nShe turned about and took the road toward Pa-Ramesu, the unprotesting\nold man trotting after her.  The crowd followed, silent at first, then\nsoftly talkative, and finally, in the distance, singing and noisy once\nagain.\n\nA careening camel, almost white in the early morning sunshine, broke\nthe sky-line far up the road leading from Tanis in the north.  Very\nmuch nearer, to the west, two single litters, with a staff-bearing\nattendant, were approaching.\n\nThe camel rider was a Hebrew by the beast that bore him.  Egypt had no\nliking for the bearer of the Orient's burdens and small acquaintance\nwith him.  Likewise the litters were Hebraic, for the attendant was\nbearded.  The soldier kept his place before the stela and contemplated\nthe distance.\n\nThe time was not long, though in that land of distances the camel had\nfar to come from the horizon to the well, until by the soft jarring of\nthe earth the motionless sentinel knew that the swifter traveler had\narrived.  Haste is not common in tropical countries, and the camel had\nbeen put to his limit of speed.  A commoner spirit than the soldiers\ncould not have resisted the impulses of curiosity concerning this hot\nhaste.  But he did not turn his eyes.\n\nThe traveler alighted before his mount ceased to move, and undoing his\nleathern belt with a jerk, he struck the camel a smart blow on the\nshoulder.  There was the protesting buzz of a large fly and an angry,\ndisabled blundering on the sand, silenced by the stamp of a sandal.\n\n\"Thou wouldst have it, pest!\" the traveler exclaimed.  \"Thy kind is not\nto be persuaded from its blood-sucking by milder means.  Ye mind me of\nthe Pharaoh!\"\n\nHe turned toward the well, and his glance fell on the man-at-arms for\nthe first time.  He started a little to find himself not alone, and a\nsecond time he started with sudden recognition.  The well was between\nhim and the soldier.  He leaned upon his hands on the top of the curb\nand gazed at his opposite.  Once he seemed about to speak, but the\nstudious disregard of the soldier deterred him.  Slowly his eyes fell\nuntil they were directed thoughtfully through his own reflection into\nthe green depths of the well.\n\nAlthough there were ten years in favor of the Egyptian, there was a\ncertain similarity between the two men.  Both were soldiers, both black\nand stern.  But one was a Hebrew, no less than forty-five years of age.\nHe wore a helmet of polished metal, equipped with a visor, which, when\nraised, finished the front with a flat plate.  The top of the\nhead-piece was ornamented with a spike.  His armor was complete--shirt\nof mail, shenti extending half-way to the knees, greaves of brass and\nmailed shoes.\n\nHe was as tall as the Egyptian and as lean, but his structure was\nheavy, stalwart and powerful.  His forehead was broad and bold, his\neyes deep-set, steel-blue and keen.  He had the fighting nose,\nover-long and hooked like an eagle's beak.  The inexorable character of\nhis features was borne out by the mouth, thin-lipped and firm in its\nclosing.  Even his beard, scant and touched with gray, was intractable.\nHere was an Israelite who was a warrior, a rare thing--but splendid\nwhen found.\n\nAfter a pause he turned, and the camel knelt at his command.  The\nlitters had halted a little distance away under two palms that leaned\ntheir leafless crowns together.  The attendant was hastening toward the\nwell.\n\n\"Joshua!\" he cried joyously.\n\n\"Even I,\" the Hebrew soldier said, walking around the kneeling beast.\n\"Peace to thee, Caleb.\"\n\nThe two men embraced; the warrior imperturbably, the attendant\ntearfully.\n\n\"What dost thou away from Goshen?\" Joshua asked, disengaging himself.\n\"The faithful of Israel have been summoned thither from the\nremotenesses of Mizraim.\"\n\nBut Caleb did not hear, having caught sight of the Egyptian.  The\nrecognition startled him as it had all the others, but he did not hold\nhis peace.\n\n\"Atsu!\" he exclaimed.  Joshua checked him.\n\n\"Vex him not with attention,\" he said in a lowered tone.  \"His fall\nhath been great, but it hath not killed his pride.  He would speak if\nit hurt him to be unremembered.\"\n\n\"Hath he a grudge against us?\" Caleb asked in astonishment.\n\n\"Nay, look thou at the writing on the tablet.  He would hide its\ncommand from us.  Is he not a friend to Israel still?\"\n\nHe indicated the characters on either side of the soldier.  The words\nwere disconnected, but the sense was easily guessed.  The command for\nprayers to the Pantheon of Egypt was not hidden, beyond conjecture,\nfrom the discerning.  Caleb saw the meaning of the inscription, but\nlooked to Joshua for further enlightenment.\n\n\"He would spare us,\" the abler Israelite said.  \"Let us return the\nkindness and see him not.\"\n\nAll this had the Egyptian heard, but his eyes, fixed so absently on the\nhorizon, seemed to indicate that he was not conscious of his\nsurroundings.\n\nJoshua repeated his question.\n\n\"I was sent forth with Miriam,\" Caleb made answer.  \"She hath been\nabroad, gathering up the scattered chosen.\"\n\nHis eyes brightened and he clasped his hands with the gesture of a\nhappy woman.\n\n\"Deliverance is at hand!  Doubt it not, O Son of Nun!  We go forth!\" he\nexclaimed.\n\nOn the camel were hung a shield, a javelin and a quiver of arrows.\nJoshua jostled the arrows in their case before answering.\n\n\"Not as the moon changes,\" he said grimly.  \"The time for mild\ndeparture is past and the word of the Lord God unto Moses must be\nfulfilled.\"\n\n\"So we but go,\" Caleb assented, \"I care not.  And such is the temper of\nall Israel--nay,\" he broke off, conscientiously; \"there is an\nexception, an unusual exception.\"\n\n\"There may be more,\" Joshua replied.  \"There is much in Egypt to hold\nthe slavish.  But the captain of Israel hath called me, out of peaceful\nshepherd life, to the severe fortunes of a warrior, and I go, no mile\ntoo short, no moment too swift, that shall speed me into Pa-Ramesu.\"\n\n\"And thou takest up arms for Israel?\" Caleb cried.  \"Ah! but Moses hath\ngloved his right hand in mail, in thee, O Son of Nun!  But,\" he\ncontinued, uneasy with his story untold, \"this was no slavish content\nunder a master.  Rather did it come from one of the best of Israel.\"\n\n\"Strange that the lofty of Israel should regret a departure from the\nland of the oppressors.\"  Joshua settled himself on the camel and the\ntall beast rose to its feet with a lurch.\n\n\"Even so,\" Caleb answered, patting the nose of the camel and arranging\nthe tassels of its halter.  \"It was a quarry-slave, a maiden and of\ngentle blood among the nobility of Israel.  She is in the bamboo\nlitter, Miriam is in the other.\n\n\"We are come from farthest Egypt, fifty of us in three barges,\" he\nbegan.  \"To Syene have we been and all the Nilotic towns.  To Nehapehu,\nand even deep into the Great Oasis were messengers sent, for we would\nnot leave a single son of Abraham behind.  And the masters surrendered\nthem to a man!  Was it the face of Miriam or the fear of Moses or the\nmight of the Lord that tamed them?  Hath Miriam a compelling glance, or\nMoses a power that came not from Jehovah?  Nay, not so.  Praised be His\nholy name!\"\n\nThe mild Israelite clasped his hands and raised his eyes devoutly.  But\nfearful lest his pause might furnish an opportunity for Joshua's\nescape, he continued at once:\n\n\"We were descending the Nile, below Memphis; the river sang and the\nhills lifted up their voices.  There was rejoicing in the meadows and\nclapping of hands in the valleys.  We possessed the gates of our\nenemies and Mizraim sat upon the shores and wept after us.\n\n\"Below Masaarah, the darkness fell; the sun perished in the morning and\nthe stars were not summoned in the night, for the Lord had withdrawn\nthe lights of heaven.  But His hand was upon the waters and His glory\nstood about us and we feared not.\n\n\"And lo! there came a call upon Him from the shores to the east.  The\nbarge of Miriam paused and from the land we succored an Israelitish\nmaiden.  But when we would have moved on, she flung herself before\nMiriam and besought her:\n\n\"'Depart not yet, for there is another.'\n\n\"'Of the chosen?' the prophetess asked.\n\n\"'Nay, an Egyptian, but better and above his kind.'\n\n\"'Of the faith?' Miriam asked further.  And the maiden faltered and\nsaid, 'Nay, not yet--but worthy and kindly.'\n\n\"But the prophetess bade the men at the poles to continue, saying:\n'Shall we cheat Jehovah in his intent and rescue an oppressor?'\n\n\"But the maiden clung about the knees of Miriam and prayed to her,\nwhile the prophetess said, 'Nay, nay' and 'Peace,' and sought to soothe\nher, and when at that moment some one called out of the darkness, she\nput her hand over the maiden's mouth and would not let her answer.  And\nthe barge went swiftly away.  Then the maiden fell on her face, like\none dead, and she will not be comforted.\"\n\nJoshua drew himself into securer, position on the camel and shook its\nharness.\n\n\"Love!\" he said with a frown.  \"The evilest tie and the strongest\nbetween Israel and Mizraim!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" Caleb protested, \"thou hast loved.\"\n\n\"A daughter of Israel,\" the warrior answered bluntly.  \"Dost thou\nfollow me into Goshen, Caleb?\"\n\n\"Nay, we go on to Tanis, where we shall join Moses and Aaron who lie\nthere awaiting the Pharaoh's summons.\"\n\n\"The parting shall not be long between thee and me, then.  Peace to\nthee, Caleb.  To Miriam, greeting and peace.\"\n\nThe warrior urged his camel and, rounding the stela-guarding soldier\nwho had stood within ear-shot of the narrative, he was gone in a long\nundulating swing up the road that led to Pa-Ramesu.\n\nCaleb gazed after him until he was only a tall shape like the stroke of\na pen in the distance.  Then the mild Israelite looked longingly at the\nEgyptian, and finally returned to the litters.  These in a moment were\nshouldered by the bearers and moved out up the road toward Tanis.\nCaleb walked before them, dotting every other footprint with the point\nof his staff.  He sighed gustily and sank his bearded chin on his\nbreast.\n\nThe soldier turned his head as soon as the attendant had passed and\ngazed at the litters.\n\nThe Hebrew bearers of the foremost were four in number, dressed in the\ngarb of serving-men to noble Israel.  The hangings of blue linen had\nbeen thrust aside and within was the semi-recumbent figure of a woman.\nOne knee was drawn up, the hands clasped behind the head, but the\nmajesty of the august countenance belied the youth of the posture.  The\neyes of the woman met those of the Egyptian and lighted with\nrecognition.  She lowered her arms and crossed the left to the shoulder\nof the right.  It was the old attitude of deference from Israel to\nAtsu.  A dusky red dyed the man's cheeks and he touched his knee in\nresponse.\n\nThe litter of Miriam passed.\n\nThe next was a light frame of jungle bamboo, borne by a pair of young\nmen.  Its sides were latticed, with the exception of two small\nwindow-like openings on either side.  These were hung with white linen,\nbut the drapings had been put aside to admit the morning air.\n\nThe soldier looked and the shock of recognition drew him a pace away\nfrom the stela.\n\nThe head of a young girl, partly turned from him, was framed in the\nsmall window.  The wimple had been thrown back and a single tress of\ngolden hair had escaped across the forehead.  The countenance was\nunhappy, but beautiful for all its misery.  The lids were heavy, as if\nweighted down with sorrow; the cheeks were pallid, the lips colorless\nand pathetically drooped.  A white hand, resting on the slight frame of\nthe small opening, was tightly clenched.\n\nThe picture was one of weary despair.\n\nThe soldier, blanched and shaken, took a step forward as if to speak,\nbut some realization brought him back to rigid attention against the\nstela.\n\nThe light litter passed on.\n\nThe regular tread of the men grew fainter and fainter and silence\nsettled again about the well.\n\nThe soldier stood erect, gray-faced and immovable, his eyes fixed, his\nteeth set, his hand gripping the pike, till the insects, reassured,\nbegan to chirr close about him.  Then his lids quivered; the pike\nleaned in his grasp; his jaw relaxed, weakly.  He shifted his position\nand frowned, flung up his head and resumed his vigil.  The moments went\non and yet he retained his tense posture.  The hour passed and with it\nhis physical endurance.\n\nThen his emotion gathered all its forces, all the compelling sensations\nof disappointment, rebuff, heart-hurt, jealousy, hopelessness, and\nstormed his soul.  He turned about and, stretching his arms across the\ntop of the stela, hid his face and surrendered.\n\nAround him was the unbroken circle of the earth and above the blue\ndesert of sky, solitary, soundless.  And the union of earth and heaven,\nlike a mundane and spiritual collusion, lay between him and the little\nlitter.\n\nThe beat of a horse's hoofs in the distance roused him after a long\ntime, and hastily turning his back toward the new-comer, he resumed at\nonce his soldierly attitude.\n\nThe traveler bore down on him from the west and reined his horse at the\nintersection of the two roads.  He looked up the straight highway\ntoward Pa-Ramesu, then turned in the saddle and gazed toward Tanis.\nHis indecision was not a wayfarer's casual hesitancy in the choice of\nroads.  By the anxiety written on his face, life, fortune or love might\nbe at stake upon the correct selection of route.  Once or twice he\nlooked at the soldier, but showed no inclination to ask advice, even\nhad the man-at-arms turned his way.\n\nIt was one of fate's opportunities to be gracious.  Here was Kenkenes\nseeking for the maiden whom he and the soldier loved, and it lay in the\npower of the unelect to direct the fortunate.  But Kenkenes did not\nknow the warrior, and Atsu had no desire to turn his unhappy face to\nthe new-comer.  The young man grew more and more troubled, his\nindecision more marked.  Suddenly he dropped the reins, and without\nguiding the horse, urged the animal forward.\n\nKenkenes was relying on chance for direction.\n\nConfused and unready the horse awaited the intelligent touch on the\nbridle.  It did not come.  He flung up his head and smelt the wind.\nNervously he stamped and trod in one place, breathing loudly in protest.\n\nThe low voice of his rider continued to urge him.  Perhaps the wind\nfrom Goshen brought the smell of unblighted pastures.  Whatever the\nreason, the horse turned, with uncertainty in his step and took the\nroad eastward to Pa-Ramesu.\n\nHaving chosen, he went confidently, and as he was not halted and was\nyoung and swift, he increased his pace to a long run.\n\nMeanwhile far to the north the little litter was borne toward Tanis.\nAnd Atsu, the warrior, did not move his eyes from the distant point\nwhere it had disappeared over the horizon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\nTHE TRAITORS\n\nThe morning of the second day after the lifting of the darkness lay\ngolden over Egypt, blue-shadowed before the houses and trees to the\nwest and shimmering and illusory toward the east.  A slow-moving,\nfragmentary cloud had gathered in the zenith just after dawn and for\nmany minutes over the northern part of Goshen there had been a\nperpendicular downpour of illuminated rain.  Now the sky was as clear\nand blue as a sapphire and the little wind was burdened with odorous\nscents from the clean-washed pastures of Israel.\n\nSeti had crossed the border into Goshen at daybreak and was now well\ninto the grazing-lands, yet scintillating with the rain.  The hoofs of\nhis fat little horse were patched with wet sand of the roadway and\nthere was no dust on the prince's modest raiment.  Behind the youth\nplodded two heavy-headed, limp-eared sumpter-mules, driven by a\nbig-boned black.\n\nSeti was not far from his destination, an obscure village of\nimage-makers directly south of Tanis and situated on the northern\nborder of Goshen.  The same region that furnished clay to Israel for\nEgypt's bricks afforded material for terra-cotta statuettes.\n\nAhead of him were fields with clouds of sheep upon the uplands and\ncattle standing under the shade of dom-palms.  Here and there hovels\nwith thatches no higher than a man's head, or low tents, dark with long\nuse, and lifted at one side, stood in a setting of green.  About them\nwere orderly and productive gardens.  Nowhere was any sign of the\ndesolation that prevailed over Egypt.\n\nSeti looked upon the beautiful prosperity of Goshen at first with the\nnatural delight loveliness inspires, and then with as much savage\nresentment as his young soul could feel.  Belting this garden and\nstretching for seven hundred miles to the south, was Egypt, desolate,\nbarren and comatose.  The God of the Hebrews had avenged them fearfully.\n\n\"They had provocation,\" he muttered to himself; \"but they have overdone\ntheir vengeance.\"\n\nA figure appeared on the road over the comb of a slight ridge, and Seti\nregarded the wayfarer with interest.\n\nHe was a Hebrew.  His draperies were loose, voluminous, heavily\nfringed, and of such silky texture of linen that they flowed in the\nlight wind.  His head was covered with a wide kerchief, which was bound\nwith a cord, and hid the forehead.\n\nHe was of good stature and upright, but his drapings were so ample that\nthe structure of his frame was not discernible.  His eyes were black,\nbright and young in their alertness, but the beard that rippled over\nhis breast to his girdle was as white as the foam of the Middle Sea.\n\nThe Hebrew walked in the grass by the roadside and came on, his face\nexpectant.  At sight of the prince he stepped into the roadway.  Seti\ndrew up.\n\n\"Thou art Seti-Meneptah?\" the ancient wayfarer asked.\n\n\"Even so,\" the prince answered.\n\nThe Hebrew put back his kerchief and stood uncovered.\n\n\"Dost thou know me, my son?\" he asked.\n\n\"Thou art that Aaron, of the able tongue, brother to Mesu.  Camest thou\nforth to meet me?\"\n\nThe Hebrew readjusted the kerchief.\n\n\"Thou hast said.\"\n\n\"Wast thou, then, so impatient?  Where is thy brother?\"\n\n\"Nay.  The village of image-makers is not safe.  Moses hath departed\nfor Zoan.\" [1]\n\n\"And named thee in his stead.  But his mission to my father's capital\nbodes no good.  He might have stayed until I could have persuaded him\ninto friendship.\"\n\n\"Not with all thy gold!\" said Aaron gravely.\n\n\"Nay, I had not meant that,\" Seti rejoined with some resentment.  \"If\nEgypt's plight can not win mercy from him by its own piteousness, the\ntreasure I bring is not enough.\"\n\nThe Hebrew waved his hand as if to dismiss the subject.\n\n\"Let us not dispute so old a quarrel,\" he said.  \"We have a new sorrow,\nthou and I.\"\n\n\"Of Mesu's sending?\"\n\n\"Nay, of thine own misplaced trust.\"\n\n\"What!\" the prince exclaimed.  \"Have I clothed thy kinsman with more\ngrace than he owns?\"\n\n\"Thou hast put faith in thine enemy.  A woman hath deceived thee.\"\n\n\"What dost thou tell me?\" Seti cried, leaping to the ground and angrily\nconfronting Aaron.\n\n\"A truth,\" the Hebrew answered calmly.  \"The Princess Ta-user is a\nfugitive charged with treason.\"\n\nSeti turned cold and smote his forehead.  \"Undone through me!\" he\ngroaned.\n\n\"Not so, my son.  Thou art undone through her.  She betrayed thee.\"\n\nSeti turned upon him with a fierce movement.\n\n\"Peace!\" the Hebrew interrupted the furious speech on the prince's\nlips.  \"I bear thee no malice.\"\n\n\"I will give ear to no tales against the princess,\" Seti avowed with\nire.\n\n\"Thy blind trust hath already wrought havoc with thee.  Let it not\nbring heavy punishment upon thy head.  Thou hast dealt kindly with me,\nand I am beholden to thee.  Give me leave to discharge my debt.\"\n\nThe prince looked stubbornly at Aaron for a moment, but the doubt that\nhad begun to assert itself in his mind clamored for proof or refutation.\n\n\"Say on,\" he said.\n\n\"The story is long,\" the Hebrew explained mildly, \"and the sun is\nardent.  There are friends in yonder house.  Let us ask the shelter of\ntheir roof for an hour.\"\n\nGathering his robes about him with peculiar grace, he went through the\ngrass toward a low, capacious tent, pitched by a trickling branch of\nthe great canal.  Seti followed moodily.\n\nA black-haired Israelitish woman, sitting on the earth before the\nlifted side of the tent, arose, and reverently kissed the hem of\nAaron's robes.  Her dark-eyed brood appeared at various angles of the\ntent, and at a sign and a word from the woman they did obeisance and\nhailed the ancient visitor in soft Hebrew.\n\nAfter a short colloquy between Aaron and the woman of Israel, the\nchildren were dismissed to play in the fields and the woman carried the\nbowl and basket of lentils out of ear-shot of her house.\n\n\"Let us enter,\" Aaron said, with an inclination of his head toward\nSeti.  He stooped and preceded the young man into the home of the\nHebrew.\n\nThe prince saw the black dispose himself on the grass outside, with his\neyes upon the sumpter-mule.\n\nAaron sat upon one of the rugs, and Seti, following his example, took\nanother.\n\n\"Say on,\" the prince urged.\n\nThe Hebrew began at once.\n\n\"What I tell thee, O my son, will soon be talked abroad over the land.\nBut if thou hast a doubt in thy heart, and art like to question my\ntruth-speaking, there are witnesses I may summon, such as no wise man\nwill deny.  And these be Jambres, and the twelve priests of the cities\nof the north, and the innkeeper at Pithom, also the governor over the\ntreasure-city, his soldiers, and others, who know the secret by now.\n\n\"I will give thee the tale now, and the proof thereafter, if thou\nbelievest me not.\n\n\"Last night, I lay under the tent of a son of Israel, at Pithom.  When\nI arose, two hours before dawn, horsemen began to gallop through the\ncity toward the south.  The inhabitants were aroused; there was much\nrunning to and fro, and the inn was full of lights.\n\n\"We approached, and when the tumult had died and the Egyptians were so\nfull of the tidings that they were glad to relieve themselves even to\nan Israelite, I asked and learned this story.  Many times afterward, on\nmy way hither, I heard it from the lips of men whom I passed, so I am\nnot deceived.\n\n\"Seven days agone, under an evil star, a veiled woman came to the\ntemple of Bast, in the village of image-makers, and made offerings to\nthe idol.  She remained in the shrine, praying, for a time without\nreason, as though she pretended to worship, until a certain space\nshould elapse.  At the end of the hour in which she came, another\nwoman, closely covered, her mouth hidden, entered and knelt near her.\nIn a little they arose and went forth together, and Jambres, who is\npriest at the little temple, grown suspicious by reason of their\nbehavior, looked after them.  The wind swayed the garments of the\nsecond stranger, and showed the foot and ankle of a man.  Filled with\nwonderment, Jambres laid aside his priest's robes and garbing himself\nlike a wayfarer, followed.  They left the village, going east where the\nroad leadeth along the canal, which is hidden by the sprouts of young\ntrees.  Farther up the way were servitors who waited for the man and\nwoman, but the two stepped out of ear-shot, and sat by the road to talk.\n\n\"Jambres, hidden in the fringe of bushes behind, heard them.\n\n\"They laid a snare.  And thou, O Prince, wast to be trapped therein.\"\n\nSeti's eyes were veiled and his face showed a heightening of color.\n\n\"Thou wast to come to the temple in the village of image-makers with\ntreasure to give into the hands of Moses.  Thy message to my brother\nwas to be delivered by the Princess Ta-user.  She delivered it not.\nThe word she should have brought came to Moses by a son of Belial, a\ngodless Hebrew, sent by Jambres, for the brotherhood of priests would\nhave had Moses come to the temple, for their own ends.  But the\nservants of the Lord God of Israel are keen-eyed and they know a jackal\nfrom a hare.  However, these matters I did not hear from the people.\nSuch secret things are not discussed upon the streets.  All that I\nheard in Pithom may be talked openly over Egypt.\n\n\"The man and the woman laid their plans, and they were these: Last\nnight, the man and his servants were to lie at Pithom, and to-day they\nwere to meet thee at the temple of Bast, overpower thee, take thy\ntreasure and, with the woman, fly to some secure place.  With the\ntreasure they were to hire them soldiers--mercenaries, and take arms\nagainst the king, thy father.\"\n\nThe speaker paused again.  Seti's breast labored and his gaze was fixed\nupon the Hebrew.\n\n\"The ire of Jambres was kindled against the plotters, and he called an\nassembly of the priests within short distances from the village of\nimage-makers and laid his discoveries before them.  They pledged\nthemselves to proceed to Pithom last night, which was the night they\ncame together in council, and take the traitors.  But one among their\nnumber, a young priest who knew the woman, played them false, entered\nthe city before his fellows and warned the plotters.  They had fled,\nwith the priests in pursuit.\n\n\"My son, the man was Siptah, son of Amon-meses; the woman, the Princess\nTa-user.\"\n\nThe prince's face took on an insane beauty.  In each cheek was a\nscarlet stain--his lips smiled without parting and his eyes glittered.\nHe did not question the Hebrew's story.  Something within him\ncorroborated every word.  He sprang to his feet and with an unnatural\nlaugh flung his hand above his head.\n\n\"Now, by Horus,\" he cried, \"I must get back to Tanis.  I would ask the\npardon of Rameses!\"\n\nAaron arose and laid detaining hands upon him.\n\n\"I did not tell thee this, that I might be a bearer of evil tidings.  I\ncame forth to meet thee, that thou mayest save thyself.  Far be it from\nme to bring misfortune upon Israel's one friend in Egypt's high places.\nReturn to Tanis with all speed and take the treasure with thee.  Then\nonly will the intent rest against thee--\"\n\n\"Not so,\" Seti interrupted harshly.  \"Wilt thou rob me of the one balm\nto my humiliation?  Wilt thou defeat me also in the one good deed I\nwould do?  Take thou the treasure and be glad that it fell not into the\nhands of the wanton.  Let me depart.\"\n\nBut Aaron was planted in his way.\n\n\"Knowest thou not what they will do with thee?  Thou wouldst have given\naid to the enemy of Egypt.  Thou knowest the penalty.  Sooner would\nIsrael make it a garment of sackcloth and feed upon alms, than yield\nthee up to thine enemies for thy gold's sake--\"\n\nBut Seti would not hear him.  \"I care not what they do with me,\" he\nsaid.  \"The gods grant they lay upon me the extreme weight of the law.\nI go back to Tanis as one returneth to his beloved.\"\n\nHe shook off the Israelite's hands and ran into the open.  There, he\nordered the black to give the treasure over to the Hebrew, and flinging\nhimself upon his horse, galloped furiously toward Tanis.\n\nOf the remainder of the day Seti had little memory.  Once or twice as\nhe proceeded headlong through hamlets, he caught from the lips of\nnatives a denunciation of Siptah, a vicious epithet applied to Ta-user,\nor, like a fresh thrust in an old wound, a pitying groan for himself.\nHis shame had preceded him on fleet wings.  He hoped he might as\nswiftly run his sentence down.\n\nNone knew him in the roadways and the towns did not expect him.  The\npickets on the outer wall of Tanis halted him, but when they beheld his\nface, their pikes fell and with hands on knees, they bade him pass.\nThe palace sentries started and gave him room.\n\nHe was running, sobbing, through the dark and capacious corridors of\nthe palace and no man had stayed him yet.  Were they to make his shame\nmore poignant by pitying him and punishing him not at all?  He flung\nhimself through the doors of the council chamber and halted.\n\nThe great hall was crowded and full of excitement.  Meneptah had\nsummoned the court to the royal presence.\n\nIn his loft above the throng stood the king, purple with rage.  The\nqueen, in her place at his side, was staying his outstretched hand.\nBelow at his right stood Rameses, the kingliest presence that ever\ngraced a royal sitting.  At the left of Meneptah, was Har-hat,\ncomplacent and serene.\n\nOut in the center of a generous space stood Moses.  The great Hebrew\nwas alone and isolated, but his personality was such that a throng\ncould not have obscured him.\n\nIn his massive physique was an insistent suggestion of immovability and\nsuperhuman strength; in the shape of his imperial head, there was\nillimitable capacity; in his face, the image of a nature commanding the\nentire range of feeling, from the finest to the fiercest.  There was\nnothing of the occult in his atmosphere.  His intense human force would\nhave commanded, though Egypt had not known him as the emissary of God.\n\nAs it was, when he moved the assembly swayed back as if blown by a\nwind.  A motion of his hand sent a nervous start over the hall.  The\nnearest courtiers seemed prepared to crouch.  Meneptah did not win a\nglance from his court.  Every eye, wide and expectant, was fixed upon\nthe Israelite.\n\nThe pale and troubled queen strove in vain.  Meneptah thrust her aside\nand shaking his clenched hand at the solitary figure before him, ended\nthe audience in a voice violent with fury.\n\n\"Get thee from me!  Take heed to thyself; see my face no more.  For in\nthat day thou seest my face, thou shalt die!\"\n\nAfter the speech, the silence fell, deepened, grew ominous.  None\nbreathed, and the overwrought nerves of the court reached the limit of\nendurance.\n\nThen Moses answered.  His tones were quiet, his voice full of a calm\nmore terrifying than an outburst had been.\n\n\"Thou hast spoken well,\" he said.  \"I will see thy face no more.\"\n\nAnother breathless silence and he turned, the courtiers shrinking from\nhis way, and passed out of the hall.\n\nAt the doors, his eyes fell upon Seti.  He made no sign of surprise.\nIndeed his glance seemed to indicate that he expected the prince.  He\nraised his hand and extended it for a moment over the boy's head, and\nwent forth.\n\nThe strength went from Seti's limbs, the passion from his brain, and\nwhen Rameses with grim purpose in his face beckoned him, he obeyed\nmeekly and prostrated himself before the angry king.\n\n\n\n[1] Zoan--The Hebrew name for Tanis.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\nBEFORE EGYPT'S THRONE\n\nThe distance by highway between Memphis and Tanis was eighty miles, a\nlittle more than two days' journey by horseback.\n\nMasanath had required two weeks to accomplish that distance.  She refused\nto travel except in the cool of the morning and of the afternoon; if she\nfelt the fatigue of an hour's journey, she rested a day at the next town;\nshe consulted astrologers, and moved forward only under propitious signs;\nshe insisted on following the Nile until she was opposite Tanis, instead\nof taking the highway at On and continuing across the Delta.\n\nThe most of her following walked, and she proceeded at the pace of her\nplodding servants.\n\nShe spoke of her freedom as though she went to meet doom; she gazed on\nthe sorry fields and pastures of Egypt as though the four walls of a\nprison were soon to shut out heaven and earth from her eyes.\n\nShe was now within ten miles of Tanis, fourteen days after her departure\nfrom Memphis.\n\nFour solemn Ethiopians bore her litter upon their shoulders, and another\nwaved a fan of black ostrich plumes over her.  The litter was of\nglittering ebony, hung with purple, tasseled with gold.  At her right,\nwas Unas; at her left, Nari.  Behind her were dusky attendants and sooty\nsumpter-mules.\n\nHer robes were white, and very fine, but there was no henna on her nails,\nnor kohl beneath her lids, nor jewels in her hair.  So she would prove\nthat, though she was a coming queen, she was not glad of it.  Hers was\nnot the spirit that hides its trouble and enamels the exterior with false\nflushes and smiles.  She enveloped herself in her feelings.  She\ntinctured her voice with them; she made her eyes languid with them; and\nthe touch of her hand, the curve of her lips and the droop of her head\nwere eloquent of them.\n\nBy this time, she had despaired.  There was yet an opportunity to spend\nanother day covering the remaining ten miles, but she would loiter no\nlonger.  She was tired, of a truth.\n\nIt was near sunset when a company of royal guards, under Menes, rode up\nfrom the north.\n\nThe captain flung himself from his horse and hurried to Masanath's litter.\n\n\"Holy Isis!  Lady Masanath,\" he exclaimed; \"where in all Egypt hast thou\nhidden thyself these fourteen days?  The whole army of the north hath\nbeen searching after thee, and Rameses hath raved like a madman since\nthat day long past on which thou shouldst have arrived in Tanis.\"\n\n\"I have been on the way,\" she answered loftily.  \"The haste of the prince\nis unseemly.  I would not fatigue myself nor court disaster by\nincautiousness, these perilous days.\"\n\nMenes bowed.  \"I am reproved, and contrite.  I forgot that I spoke with\nmy queen.  But I am most grateful that thou didst permit me to find thee,\nfor Rameses sent me forth an hour since, with the hard alternative of\nfetching thee to him or losing my head.  But that he was sure of my\nsuccess is proved by the litter he sent between two horses for thee.\nWilt thou leave this and proceed in the other?\"\n\nMasanath answered by extending her hand to him.  Three of the soldiers\nlaid their cloaks on the earth for her feet; six others let down the\nlitter and Menes assisted her into the sumptuous conveyance Rameses had\nsent.\n\nAnother soldier, after rapid and low-spoken instructions from the\ncaptain, whirled his horse about, saluted and took the road toward Tanis\nat a gallop.\n\nThe six shouldered the litter of the crown princess-to-be, Menes mounted\nhis horse and rode beside her; Unas, her Memphian train, and the\nriderless horses were left to bring up the rear, and Masanath continued\nto the capital.\n\n\"Perchance, thou hast been famished these fourteen days in the matter of\ncourt-gossip,\" the captain said.  \"Wherefore I am come as thy informant\nwith such news as thou shouldst know.  For, being ignorant of the\ninfelicities in the household of the king, it may be that thou wouldst\nask after the little prince, Seti, and wherefore the queen appears no\nmore at the side of the Pharaoh, nor speaks with thy lord nor sees thy\nnoble father; and furthermore, where Ta-user hath taken herself and other\nthings which would embarrass thee to hear answered openly.\"\n\nMasanath roused herself and prepared to listen.  Serious words from the\nlips of the light-hearted captain were not common, and when he spoke in\nthat manner it was time to take heed.\n\n\"I had heard of the little prince's misfortune and of the treason of\nTa-user and her party, and the placing of a price upon her head; but\nnothing more hath come to mine ears.  Is there more, of a truth?\"\n\n\"Remember, I pray thee,\" the captain replied, riding near to her, \"that I\nbring thee this for thine own sake--not for the love of tale-bearing.  On\nthe counsel of Rameses, this day the Pharaoh sentenced Seti to banishment\nfor a year to the mines of Libya--\"\n\n\"To the mines!\" Masanath cried in horror.\n\n\"Not as a laborer.  Nay, the sentence was not so harsh.  But as a scribe\nto the governor over them.\"\n\n\"It matters little!\" she declared indignantly.  \"The boy-prince--the\npoor, misguided young brother sent to a year of banishment--a lifelong\nhumiliation!  Libya, the death-country!  Now, was anything more brutal?\nNay, it is like Rameses!\"\n\n\"Aye,\" the captain replied quickly, leaning over her with a cautioning\nmotion of his hand.  \"Aye, and it is like thee to say it.  But hear me\nyet further.  The queen and the Son of Ptah have quarreled, violently,\nover Seti,\" he continued in a low tone.  \"The little prince merited thy\nfather's disfavor, because Seti espoused the cause of Ta-user in thy\nplace, though he loves thee, and for that--we can find no other\nreason--the noble Har-hat also urged the king into the harsh sentence of\nthe little prince.  For this the queen hath publicly turned her back upon\nthe crown prince and the fan-bearer, and the atmosphere of the palace is\nmost unhappy.\"\n\nHe lowered his voice to a whisper.  \"Hotep championed Seti,--for the\nyoung sister's sake, it would appear,--but to me it seemeth that the\nscribe hath lost his wits.\"\n\n\"It would seem that he courteth a sentence to the mines likewise, and he\nneeds but to go on as he hath begun to succeed most thoroughly.  And it\nbehooveth his friends to prevent him.\"\n\nHe took Masanath's hand and, leaning from the saddle, whispered:\n\n\"Ye are under the same roof--thou and Hotep.  Avoid him as though he were\na pestilence.\"\n\nHe straightened himself and drew his horse away from her so that she\ncould not answer.\n\nThe captain's meaning, though obscure to any other that might have heard\nhim, was very clear to Masanath.  Har-hat was still holding a threat of\nHotep's undoing over his daughter's head, lest, at the last moment, she\nrebel against her marriage.  She trembled, realizing how desperately she\nwas weighted with the safety of the scribe.  Her fear for him brought the\nfirst feeling of willingness to wed with Rameses that she had ever\nexperienced.  Distasteful as marriage was to her, it was a species of\nsacrifice to be catalogued with the many self-abnegations of which\nwomanhood is capable when the welfare of the beloved is at stake.\n\nShe sank back in the shadows of her litter, covered her face with her\nhands and shuddered because of the imminence of her trial.\n\nSo they journeyed on, till at last Masanath fell asleep--not from\nindifference, for her fears exhausted her--but because her mind still\nretained babyhood's way of comforting itself when too roughly beset.\n\nShe was aroused in the middle of the first watch by the passage of her\nlitter between bewildering stretches of lights.  She was within the\npalace.  The soldiers that bore her were tramping over a Damascene\ncarpet, and between long lines of groveling attendants, through an\natmosphere of overwhelming perfume.  The messenger had been swift and the\ncourt had had time to prepare to greet the coming crown princess with\npropriety.\n\nAfter the first spasm of terror, Masanath set her teeth and prepared to\nendure.  She was borne to the doors of the throne-room and two nobles\ngorgeously habited set the carved steps beside the litter for her feet.\n\nWithout hesitation she descended.\n\nThe great hall was ablaze with light and lined with courtiers.  The\nPharaoh, with the queen by his side again, was in his place under the\ncanopy.\n\nHow tiny the little bride seemed to those gathered to greet her!  In that\nvast chamber, with its remote ceiling, its majestic pillars, its\ndistances and sonorous echoes, her littleness was pathetically\naccentuated.\n\nOutside the shelter of her litter, she felt stripped of all protection.\nShe dared not look at the ranks of courtiers, lest her gaze fall on the\nfair face of the royal scribe.  She reminded Isis of her threat and moved\ninto the open space, which extended down the center of the hall.\n\nHar-hat, glittering with gems, and rustling in snow-white robes,\napproached with triumph in his face to embrace her.  But within three\nsteps he paused as suddenly as though he had been commanded.  Masanath\nhad not spoken, but her pretty chin had risen, her mouth curved\nhaughtily, and the gaze she fixed upon him from under her lashes was cold\nand forbidding.\n\nShe extended the tips of her fingers to him.  The action clamored its\nmeaning.  Not in the face of that assembly dared he disregard it, but his\nblack eyes hardened and flashed threateningly.  The warning given, he\nbent his knee and kissed the proffered hand.  He had become the subject\nof his daughter.\n\nShe suffered him to lead her to the royal dais where she knelt.  The\nqueen descended, raised her and led her to the throne.  Meneptah met\nthem, kissed Masanath's forehead, and blessed her.  The queen embraced\nher and returned to her place beside the Pharaoh.\n\nMasanath turned to the right of the royal dais and faced the prince.\nThus far, her greetings had not been hard.  Now was the supreme test.\nHar-hat conducted her within a few paces of the prince and stepped aside.\nWhat followed was to prove Masanath's willingness.\n\nRameses stood in the center of a slightly raised platform, which was\ncarpeted with gold-edged purple.  Behind him was his great chair.  But\nfor the badge of princehood, the fringed ribbon dependent from a\ngem-crusted annulet over each temple, his habiliments were the same as\nthe Pharaoh's.\n\nMasanath gave him a single comprehensive glance.  She was to wed against\nher will, but she noted philosophically that she was to wed with no\npuppet, but a kingly king.  With all that, admitting herself a peer to\nthis man, it wrenched her sorely to acknowledge subserviency to him.\n\nHope dead--the hour of her trial at hand--nothing was left to uphold her\nbut the memory of the good she might do for Hotep.  Her face fell and she\napproached the prince with slow steps.  Within three paces of the\nplatform she paused and sank to her knees.\n\nIt was done.  She had acknowledged the betrothal and knelt to her lord.\nSomewhere in that assembly Hotep had seen it, and she wondered numbly if\nhe understood why she had submitted; wondered if she had saved him;\nwondered if she could endure for the long life they must spend under the\nsame roof; wondered if the gods would take pity on her and kill her very\nsoon.\n\nBy this time, Rameses had raised her.  He lifted the badge of princehood\nfrom his forehead, shortened the fillet from which it hung, so that it\nwould fit her small head and set it on her brow.\n\nThe great palace shook with the acclaim of the courtiers.  Organ-throated\ntrumpets were blown; the clang of crossed arms, and sound of beaten\nshields arose from all parts of the king's house; all the ancients'\nmanifestations of joy were made,--and the pair that had brought it forth\nlooked upon each other.\n\nMasanath was trembling, and filled with a great desire to cry out.  All\nthis was manifest on her small, white face.  The light had died in the\nprince's eyes, the exultation was gone from his countenance.  He knew\nwhat thoughts were uppermost in the mind of Masanath, and the tyrant had\nspoken truly to her long ago, when he said his heart might be hurt.  His\nbrow contracted with an expression of actual pain and he turned with a\nfierce movement as if to command the rejoicings to be still.  But a\nthought deterred him and taking Masanath's hand he led her down the hall\nthrough the bending ranks of purple-wearing Egyptians to the great\nportals of the hall.  There, he gave her into the hands of a troop of\ncourt-ladies, lithe as leopards and gorgeous as butterflies, who led her\nwith many sinuous obeisances to her apartments.  She had not far to go.\nThe suite given over to the new crown princess was within the wing of the\npalace in which the royal family lived.  Masanath noted with a little\ntrepidation that her door was very near to the portals over which was the\nwinged sun, carven and portentous.  Here were the chambers of her lord,\nthe heir.\n\nWithin her own apartments, she was attended multitudinously.\nLadies-in-waiting bent at her elbow; soft-fingered daughters of nobility\nhabited her in purple-edged robes; flitting apparitions, in a distant\nchamber, glimpsed through a vista, laid a table of viands for her, to\nwhich she was led with many soft flatteries; her every wish was\nanticipated; all her trepidation conspicuously overlooked; her rank\nreligiously observed in all speech and behavior.  And of all her retinue,\nshe was the least complacent.\n\nAfter her sumptuous meal, she was informed that a member of her private\ntrain had come to Tanis from Memphis, ten days agone, in a state of great\nconcern and had awaited all that time in the palace till she should\narrive.  Now that she had come, the servitor insisted on seeing the\nprincess and would not be denied.  Troubled and wondering, Masanath\nordered that he be brought.  In a few minutes, Pepi stood before her.\nThe taciturn servant was visibly frightened.\n\n\"Pepi!\" she cried.  \"What brings thee here?\"\n\n\"I have lost the Israelite,\" he faltered.\n\n\"Thou hast lost Rachel!\"\n\n\"Hear me, my Lady, I pray thee.  Thou knowest we were to stop at the\nMarsh of the Discontented Soul to leave a writing on the tomb for the son\nof Mentu.  So we did.  The Israelite bade me stand away from the shore\nlest we be seen.  I put out into midstream and while mine eyes were\nattracted for a space toward the other shore, a boat drew up at the\nMarsh.  I started to return, but before I could reach the place, the\nIsraelite--the man--they were in--each other's arms.\"\n\nMasanath clasped her hands happily, but the servant went on, in haste.\n\"It was the son of Mentu, I know, my Lady.  He was wondrous tall, and the\nIsraelite was glad to see him--\"\n\n\"O, of a surety it was Kenkenes,\" Masanath interrupted eagerly.\n\n\"Nay, but hear me, my Lady,\" the serving-man protested, his distress\nevident in his voice.  \"I moved away and turned my back, for I knew they\nhad no need of me.  Once, twice, I looked and still they talked together.\nBut, alas! the third time I looked, it was because I heard sounds of\ncombat, and I saw that the son of Mentu and several men were fighting.\nOne, whom by his fat figure I took to be Unas, was pursuing the\nIsraelite.  I would have returned to help her, but the dreadful night\novertook me before I could reach her--and as thou knowest,--none moved\nthereafter.\n\n\"When the darkness lifted, I was off the wharves at On, where my boat had\ndrifted.  I halted only long enough to feed, for I was famished, and with\nall haste I returned to the Marsh.  None was there.  I went to the house\nin Memphis, but it was dark and closed.  Next I visited the home of Mentu\nand asked if Rachel were there, but the old housekeeper had never heard\nof such a maiden.  But when I asked if the young master had returned, she\nasked me where I had been that I had not heard he was dead.  And having\nsaid, she shut the door in my face.  I think he was within, and she would\nnot answer me 'aye' or 'nay,' but I know that she told the truth\nconcerning the Israelite.\"\n\nMasanath, who had stood, the picture of dismay and apprehension during\nthe last part of the recital, seized his arm.\n\n\"Hast thou had an eye to the master?\" she demanded in a fierce whisper.\n\n\"Aye,\" he answered quickly.  \"I have followed him like a shadow, and this\nI know.  Nak and Hebset were here when I came, but they went that same\nnight, each in a different direction, to search further for her.  They\nreturned to-night, but I know not whether they brought one with them.\"\n\nMasanath clasped her hands and thought for a moment, a mental struggle\nevidenced on her little face by the rapid fluctuations of color.\n\n\"Get thee down to the kitchens, Pepi,\" she said presently, \"and if Nari\nhath come, send her up to me.  Give thyself comfort and remain in the\npalace.  It may be that I shall need thee.\"\n\nShe surveyed herself with a swift glance in a plate of polished silver\nwhich was her mirror, and then, darting out of her door, ran down the\ncorridor as though she would outstrip repentance before it overtook her.\n\nThe flight was not long, but she had lost her composure before she\nstarted.  Outside her doors, she trembled as if unprotected.  Soldiers of\nthe royal guard paced along the hall before her chambers.  The lamps that\nburned there were of gold; the drapings were of purple wrought with the\nroyal symbols; the asp supported the censers; the head of Athor\nsurmounted the columns.  She was a dweller of the royal house.  Far, far\naway from her were the unimperial quarters in which, once, she would have\nlived.  There was her father--there was Hotep--\n\nShe came upon him whom she sought.  He was on the point of entering his\napartments.  He paused with his hands on the curtains and waited for her.\n\n\"A word with thee, my Lord,\" she panted, chiefly from trepidation.\n\n\"I have come to expect no more than a word from thee,\" he said.\n\nThe answer would have sent her away in dudgeon, under any other\ncircumstances, but her pride could not stand in the way of this very\npressing duty.\n\n\"A boon,\" she said, choking back her resentment.\n\n\"A boon!  Thou wouldst ask a boon of me!  Nay, I will not promise, for it\nmay be thou comest to ask thy freedom, and that I will not grant for\nspleen.\"\n\nStill she curbed herself.  \"Nay, O Prince; I am come to ask naught of\nthee which--a wife--may not justly ask of--her--lord.\"\n\nHe left the curtain and came close to her.  \"Had the words come smoothly\nover thy lips, they would have meant any wife--any husband.  But thy very\nfaltering names thee and me.  What is the boon that thou mayest justly\nask of me?\"\n\n\"My father--.\"\n\n\"Hold!  There, too, I make a restriction.  Already have I suffered thy\nfather sufficiently.\"\n\nTears leaped into her insulted eyes, and in the bright light, shining\nfrom a lamp above her head, her emotion was very apparent.\n\n\"Thou hast begun well in thy siege of my heart, Rameses,\" she said.  \"I\nam like to love thee, if thou dost woo me with affronts!\"\n\n\"I am as like to win thee with rough words as I am with soft speeches.  I\nhad thought thee above pretense, Masanath.\"\n\n\"I pretend not,\" she cried, stamping her foot.  \"And if thou wouldst know\nhow I esteem thee, I can tell thee most truthfully.\"\n\nHe laughed and caught her hands.  \"Nay, save thy judgment.  Thou hast a\nlong life with me before thee, and the minds of women can change in the\nblink of an eye.  Furthermore, I love thee none the less because thou art\nso untamed.  Thou art the world I would subdue.  So thou dost not give\nallegiance to another conqueror, I shall not grieve over thy rebellion.\nIs there another?\" he asked.\n\n\"I would liefer wed with well-nigh any other man in Egypt than with thee,\nRameses,\" she replied deliberately.\n\nThe declaration swept him off his feet.\n\n\"Gods! but thou dost hate me,\" he cried.  Panic possessed her for a\nmoment, remembering Hotep, but it was too late.  She returned the\nprince's gaze without wavering, though her hands shook pitifully.  After\nwhat seemed to her an interminable time, he spoke again.\n\n\"Perchance I am unwise in taking thee,\" he said.  \"Perchance I but give\nthee opportunity to spit me on a dagger in my sleep.\"\n\nThe tears brimmed over her lashes this time.\n\n\"Thou dost slander me!\" she exclaimed passionately.\n\n\"Then I do not understand thee, Masanath,\" he asserted.\n\n\"Of a surety,\" she declared, withdrawing a hand that she might dry the\nevidences of her indignation from her cheeks.  \"Take the example home to\nthyself!  Thou hast been loved in thy time, and if ever there was\nawakened any feeling in thy heart in response it was repugnance.  What if\none of these women had it in her power to take thee against thy will?  By\nthis time thou hadst been dead of thy frantic hate of her, if self-murder\nhad not been done!\"\n\n\"Even so,\" he answered with a short laugh; \"but I will not set thee free,\nMasanath, if thou didst convict me a monster in mine own eyes.  If thou\nart good thou wilt love me or do thy duty by me.  If thou art base, I\nhave wedded mine own deserts.\"\n\nHe took the hand she had withdrawn and prepared to go on, but she\ninterposed.\n\n\"Not yet have I asked my boon.\"\n\n\"I am no longer in debt to thy father.\"\n\n\"I ask no favor for my father at thy hands.  Rather am I come to crave a\nboon for myself.\"\n\n\"Speak.\"\n\n\"My father asked an Israelite maiden at the hands of the Pharaoh a year\nagone, and she was beloved by my friend and thine.  She fled from my\nfather and was hidden by the man she loved--\"\n\n\"Aye, I know the story.  Hotep brought it to mine ears months ago.  The\nman was Kenkenes, and thy father overtook him and threw him into prison\nin Tape.  What more?\"\n\n\"The gods keep me in my love for thee, O my father! for thou dost strain\nit most heavily,\" Masanath thought.  After an unhappy silence she went on.\n\n\"Thou hast given me news.  I know little of the tale save that the day\nthe darkness fell Kenkenes met his love on the eastern shore of the Nile\nopposite Memphis, and there my father's servants came upon them and\nfought with him for the possession of the Israelite.  The Israelite is\ngone, and my father's servants are still seeking for her, and I would not\nhave her taken.\"\n\n\"Thou art a queen.  What is she, a slave, to thee?\"\n\n\"A sister, my comforter, my one friend!\"\n\n\"Thou canst find sisters and comforters and friends among high-born women\nof Egypt.  I had laid Kenkenes' folly concerning this Israelite to the\nmoonshine genius in him.  But the slave is a sorceress, for the madness\ntouches whosoever looks upon her.  Behold her worshipers--first, thy\nfather, Kenkenes, Hotep and thyself, and the gods know whom else.  She\nwould better be curbed before she bewitches Egypt.\"\n\n\"It is her goodness and her grace that win, Rameses.  If that be sorcery,\nlet it prevail the world over.  Give her freedom and save her\nspotlessness.\"\n\n\"Har-hat shall not take her, I promise thee.  I shall send her back to\nher place in the brick-fields.\"\n\nMasanath recoiled in horror.  \"To the brick-fields!\" she cried.  \"Rachel\nto the brick-fields!\"\n\n\"I have said.  Her Israelitish spotlessness will be secure there, and the\nreduction of her charms will be the saving of Kenkenes.\"\n\n\"Alas! what have I done?\" she cried.  \"I am as fit for the brick-fields\nas Rachel.  O, if thou but knew her, Rameses!\"\n\n\"Nay, it is as well that I do not; she might bewitch me.  And seeing that\nshe is born of slaves, how shall she be pampered above her parents?  Put\nthe folly from thy mind, Masanath, and trouble me not concerning a single\nslave.  Shall I let one go, seeing that I am holding the body at the\nsacrifice of Egypt?\"\n\nGreat was Masanath's distress to make her seize him so beseechingly.\n\n\"Turn not away, my Lord,\" she begged.  \"See what havoc I have wrought for\nRachel when I sought to help her.  And behold the honesty of thy boast of\nlove for me.  My first boon and thou dost deny it!\"\n\nHe laughed, and slipping an arm about her, pressed her to him.\n\n\"First am I a king--next a lover,\" he said.  \"Thy prayer seeketh to come\nbetween me and my rule over the Israelites.  Ask for something which hath\nnaught to do with my scepter.\"\n\n\"Surely if thou sendest her to the brick-fields Kenkenes will go into\nslavery with her,\" she persisted, enduring his clasp in the hope that he\nmight soften.\n\n\"Then it were time for the dreamer to be awakened by his prince.\"\n\n\"Thou wilt not come between them!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Nay, no need.  Seven days of the lash and the sun of the slave-world\nwill heal Kenkenes.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt see!\" Masanath declared, endeavoring to free herself.  \"And\nthe gods judge thee for thy savage use of maidenhood!\"\n\nAgain he laughed, and this time he kissed her in spite of her resistance.\n\n\"The gods judge me rather for this sweeter use of maidenhood,\" he said.\n\"Let them continue to prosper me in it and hasten the day of her\nwillingness.  Meanwhile,\" he continued, still holding her, as if he\nenjoyed the mastery over her, \"get thee back to thy sleep and put the\nthought of slaves out of thy mind.  To-morrow thou settest thy feet in\nthe path to the throne; to-morrow there will be ceremonies and prayers\nand blessings out of number; and to-morrow sunset thou art no longer\nbetrothed but a bride!  My bride!  Go now, and be proud of me if thou\ncanst not love me!\"\n\nHe released her and, as he entered his apartments, lifted the curtain and\nstood for an instant looking back at her.\n\nMasanath saw him through her despairing tears--strong, immovable,\nterrible--in his youth and his purposes and his capabilities.\n\nThen the curtain fell behind him.\n\nCrushed and stunned with despair and horror, she made her way to her\napartments in a mist of tears.\n\nThere was no help for the beloved Rachel or for the young lover.  All\nwhom she might ask to approach the king in their favor were helpless or\nprejudiced.  Seti was disgraced; the queen, useless; Hotep, already too\nimminently imperiled; Rameses, Har-hat, against the lovers; and the\nking--the poor, feeble king, hopelessly beyond any appeal that she might\ndirect to him.\n\nA sorry resolve shaped itself in her mind.  To-morrow at dawn she also\nwould put forth searchers, and finding Rachel, send her out of Egypt, and\nKenkenes after her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\nTHE FIRST-BORN\n\nAt the door of her apartments Masanath was met by the faithful Nari,\nwho drew her within and showed her triumphantly that the usurping\nladies-in-waiting had departed.  The unhappy girl was grateful for the\nchange.  The relief for her sorrow was its expression, and she dreaded\nthe restraint put upon her by the presence of discerning and unfamiliar\neyes.\n\nAll desire for sleep had left her.  Nari, weary and heavy-headed,\nbegged her to retire, but she would not.  So at last the waiting woman,\nat her mistress' command, lay down and slept.\n\nThe apartment consisted of two chambers running the width of the\npalace.  The outer chamber had a window opening on the streets of\nTanis, the inner looked into the palace courtyard.\n\nMasanath wrapped a woolen mantle about her and sat at the window\noverlooking the park.\n\nWithout was the wide hollow, walled by the many-galleried stories of\nthe king's house.  Below a fountain of running water, issuing from an\nibis-bill of bronze, and falling into a pool, purled and splashed and\ntalked on and on to itself.\n\nAbove, the mighty constellations were dropping slowly down the west.\nThe wild north wind from the sea strove against her cheek.  The gods\nwere too absorbed in great things, the shifting of the heavens, the\nflight of the wind and the rocking of the waters, to care for her great\nburden of trouble.  Or, indeed, were they not prejudiced against her as\nall the world was?  They had heard every prayer but hers.  They had\nharkened to Rameses when he asked for her at their hands; they had\nharkened to her father and yielded him power at her sacrifice; they had\neven pitied Rachel; they had returned her love from Amenti, and yet had\nnot Rachel reviled them?  Nay, there was conspiracy laid against her by\nthe Pantheon, and what had she done to deserve it?\n\nIn some one of the many windows that looked into the court another\ndragged at his chestnut locks and execrated gods and men because of\ntheir hardness of heart.\n\nSo the night wore on to its noon.\n\nMasanath was becoming drowsy in spite of her determination to keep a\nsleepless vigil until dawn, when she was aroused by a commotion in the\nvicinity of the palace.  There were indoor cries and shouts for help.\n\n\"A brawl,\" she thought.  But the noise seemed to emerge into the\nstreet, and there came the sound of flying footsteps and frantic knocks\nupon doors without.  The sound seemed to swell and spread abroad,\nwidening and heightening.  Wild shrieks and husky broken shouts swept\nup from all quarters of the town, and the whole air was full of a vast\nmurmur of many voices, calling and wailing, excited, tremulous and full\nof fear.\n\nMasanath passed into the outer room to the window that looked upon the\ncity.\n\nEvery house had a light, which flickered and appeared at this window\nand that, and the streets were full of flying messengers, who cried out\nas they ran.  Now and then a chariot, drawn at full speed, dashed past,\nand by the fluttering robes of the occupants Masanath guessed them to\nbe physicians.  All Tanis was in uproar, and its alarm possessed her at\nonce.\n\nShe turned to awaken Nari, when she heard inside the palace excited\nwords and hurrying feet.  Some one ran, barefoot, past her door,\ncalling under his breath upon the gods.  At that moment an incisive\nshriek cut the increasing murmur in the palace and died away in a long\nshuddering wail of grief.\n\n\"Awake, awake, Nari!\" Masanath cried, shaking the sleeping woman.\n\"Something has befallen the city.  It is in the palace and everywhere.\"\n\nMeanwhile a chorus of screams smote upon her ears and the wild outcries\nof men filled the great palace with terrifying clamor.\n\nMasanath, shaking with dread, wrung her hands and wept.  Nari, stupid\nwith fear, sat up and listened.\n\nPresently some one came running and beat, with frenzied hands, upon the\ndoor.\n\n\"Open!  Open!  In the name of Osiris!\" cried a voice which, though it\nquaked with consternation, Masanath recognized as her father's.\n\nShe flew to the door and wrenched it open.  Har-hat, half-dressed,\nstood before it.\n\n\"Father, what manner of sending is this?\" she cried.\n\n\"Death!\" he panted.  \"Come with me!\"  He caught her arm and ran,\ndragging her after him down the corridor, half-lighted, but murmurous\nwith sound.\n\n\"What is it, father?\" she begged as he hurried her on.\n\n\"The gods only know.  Rameses hath been smitten and is dying, or even\nnow is dead!\"\n\n\"Rameses!\" she breathed in a terrified whisper.  \"Rameses!  And an hour\nago I talked with him--so strong, so resolute, so full of life--O Holy\nIsis!\"\n\n\"It is a pestilence sent by Mesu.  The whole city is afflicted.  Ptah\nshield us!\"\n\nThe hangings that covered the entrance to each suite of chambers had\nbeen thrown aside and the interiors were vacant.  But the farther end\nof the hall was filled with terrified courtiers in all attitudes and\ndegrees of extravagant demonstration of grief.  Men and women were\nfallen here and there on the pavement or supporting themselves by\npillar and wall, wailing, tearing their hair, wounding their faces,\nrending their garments.\n\nAll the dwellers of the palace were flocked about the apartments of\nRameses.  From the entrance into these chambers issued sounds of the\nwildest nature.  Masanath heard and attempted to draw away from the\nfan-bearer.\n\n\"Take me not into that awful place!\" she pleaded.  \"How canst thou\nforce me, my father!\"\n\nBut Har-hat did not seem to hear and pushed his way, still dragging her\nthrough the crush of shaking attendants that crowded into the outer\nchambers.\n\nThe sleeping-room of the heir was the focal spot of violent sorrow.\n\nThe royal pair, the king's ministers, the immediate companions of\nRameses, the high priest from the Rameside temple to Set at Tanis and a\ncorps of leeches were present.  The couch was surrounded.\n\nSeti was not present, for only in the last moment had some one realized\nthat the young prince should be brought.  Hotep had gone to conduct him\nto the chamber.\n\nThe queen, inert and lifeless, lay on the floor at the foot of the\nprince's bed.  Most of the physicians bent over her.  Her women,\nchiefly the wives of the ministers, were hysterical and helpless.\n\nBut it was Meneptah who froze the hearts of his courtiers with horror.\n\nBecause of his obstinacy Egypt had gone down into famine, pestilence\nand destruction.  Without more than ordinary concern he had watched the\nhand of the scourge pursue it into ruin till what time he should\nrelent, and he had not relented.\n\nBut now that dread Hand had entered within the boundaries of his loves\nand had smitten Rameses, his heir, his idol!\n\nThe effect upon him was terrible.  The death chamber rang like a\ntorture dungeon.  Nechutes and Menes, by united efforts, barely\nprevented him from doing self-murder.  The earnest attempts of the\npriest to quiet him were totally useless.  Nothing could have been more\nshocking.\n\nThe violent scene wrought Masanath's already over-strained nerves to\nthe highest pitch of distress.  The blood congealed in her veins and\nher steps lagged, but Har-hat, for some purpose not apparent to any who\nlooked upon his daughter's anguish, drew her to the very side of the\ncouch.  The leeches, who had been vainly seeking for some flicker of\nlife, stepped aside and the eyes of the cowering girl fell on the\nprince.\n\nRameses had seen the Hand that smote him.\n\nThe look on the frozen features completed the undoing of Masanath's\nself-control and she collapsed beside the bed, utterly prostrated.\n\nHotep entered with Seti.  The boy prince's face was inflamed with much\nweeping, and he flung himself upon the cold clay of Rameses, forgetting\nwholly that the older brother had urged the passage of a harsh sentence\nupon his young head.\n\nThe courtiers, who had stoically witnessed Meneptah's frantic grief,\nturned now and hid their blinded eyes.  Hotep went to the Pharaoh and\nlaid his hand on the monarch's shoulder.  The action commanded.\nExhausted by his frenzy, Meneptah leaned against his scribe.  The\ncup-bearer and the captain released him and Hotep spoke quietly.\n\n\"Seest thou, O my King, the sorrow of thy people?  Behold thy young son\nand pity him.  Look upon thy queen and comfort her.  If thou, their\nstaff, art broken, who shall bear them up in their sorrow?  Break not.\nBe thou as the strong father of thy great son, so that from the bosom\nof Osiris he may look upon Egypt and sleep well, seeing that in his\nloss his kingdom lost not her prop and stay, her king, also.\"\n\nThe scanty manhood of the monarch, thus ably invoked, responded\nsomewhat.  He raised himself and permitted Hotep to conduct him to the\nside of the boy prince.  Seti fell down at his father's feet, and Hotep\ntook Meneptah's hand and laid it on the bowed head.\n\n\"Thou dost pardon him, O Son of Ptah,\" the scribe said in the same\nquiet voice.  The king nodded weakly and wept afresh.  After the prince\nhad clasped his father's knees and covered the hand with kisses, he\nobeyed the scribe's sign and went away to his mother's side.  Again\nHotep, compelling by his low voice, spoke to the king and the assembly\nlistened.\n\n\"The gods have not limited the darts of affliction to thee, O Son of\nPtah.  Rameses journeyed not alone into Amenti.  He took a kingdom with\nhim.  Behold, the Hebrew hath loosed his direst plague upon Egypt, and\nby the lips of an Israelite, in the streets, every first-born in thy\nrealm perished in the home of his father this night!\"\n\nThe entire assembly cried out, and most of them ran sobbing and praying\nfrom the chamber.  Instantly the outcry and clamor in the palace broke\nforth again, for the inhabitants knew that the blow which had smitten\nRameses had fallen on one of their own.\n\nMeneptah staggered away from Hotep, his frenzy upon him again.\n\n\"Send them hither,\" he cried hoarsely, waving his arms toward a\nwhite-faced courtier that had stood his ground.  \"Send them hither--the\nHebrews, Mesu and Aaron!  Israel shall depart, before they make me sink\nthe world!  For they have sent madness upon me!  I condemned my gentle\nson, I punished those who gave me wise counsel, I have ruined Egypt, I\nhave slain mine heir, and now the blood of the first-born of all my\nkingdom is upon my head!\"  His voice rose to a shriek, and Hotep,\nputting an arm about him, hushed him with gentle authority and signed\nthe courtier to obey.\n\nThe physicians lifted the queen and bore her away.  Seti stopped at\nMasanath's side and looked at her with compassion in his eyes.  Har-hat\ncame to him.\n\n\"Seeing that thou hast won the pardon of thy father, am I not also\nincluded in the restoration of good feeling?  Have I won thine enmity,\nmy Prince?\"\n\n\"I hold naught against thee, O Har-hat, but thou hast not been a\nprofitable counselor to my father in these days of his great need.\"\nThe young prince spoke frankly and returned the comprehending gaze of\nthe fan-bearer.  Har-hat's eyes fell on his daughter, and again on the\nprince.  Slow discomfiture overspread his features.  Rameses was dead\nand with him died the fan-bearer's hold upon his position.  Seti was\narisen in the heir's place, with all the heir's enmity to him.  But\nfrom Seti he could not purchase security with Masanath.\n\nHotep supported Meneptah out of the death chamber, for the court\nparaschites were already hiding in the shadows of the great halls\nwithout.  The bed-chamber slowly emptied.  Har-hat lifted Masanath and\nfollowed the last out-going courtier.\n\nAnother tumult had arisen in the great corridor, an uproar of another\nnature that advanced from the entrance hall of the palace.  There were\ncries of supplication, persuasion, urging, that were frantic in their\nearnestness.  The whole palace seemed to be on its knees.\n\nHotep, with the king, had paused, and several courtiers went before him\nand looked down the cross corridor.  Instantly they fell on their\nknees, crying out:\n\n\"Ye have the leave of the powers of Egypt!  Go!  Make haste!  Take your\nflocks, all that is yours!  Aye, strip us even, if ye will!  But let\nnot the sun rise upon you in Egypt!  For we be all dead men!\"\n\nA murmur ran through the ministers.  \"The Hebrews!\"\n\nThey came slowly, side by side, the two brothers.  Egyptians in all\nattitudes of entreaty cumbered their path--Egyptians, born to the\npurple, rich, proud, powerful, on their faces to enslaved Israel!\n\nMeneptah wrenched himself from Hotep's sustaining arms and, staggering\nforward, all but on his knees, met them.\n\n\"Rise up and get you forth from among my people,\" he besought them,\n\"both ye and the children of Israel, and go and serve the Lord as ye\nhave said.  Also take your flocks and your herds as ye have said, and\nbe gone; and bless me also!\"\n\nGreat was the fall for a Pharaoh to pray a blessing from the hands of a\nslave; great was his humility to kneel to them.  But there was no\ntriumph, no exultation on the faces of the Hebrews.  Aaron, with his\nbearded chin on his breast, looked down on the head of the shuddering,\npleading monarch; but Moses, after sad contemplation of the humbled\nking, raised his splendid head and gazed with kindling eyes at Har-hat.\n\nThen with the words, \"It is well,\" spoken without animation, he turned\nand, with his brother, disappeared into the dusk of the long corridor.\nThe expression, the act, the mode of departure seemed to indicate that\nthe Israelites doubted the stability of the king's intent.  In a\nmoment, therefore, the courtiers were pursuing the departing brothers,\nurging and praying with all their former wild insistence.\n\nHar-hat put Masanath on her feet and started to leave her, but she\nflung her arms about his neck.\n\n\"Forgive me, my father,\" she sobbed.  \"For my rebellion the gods may\nabsolve me, but I have been unfilial and for that there is no\njustification.  If aught should befall thee in these awful days, how I\nshould reproach myself!  Sawest thou not the Hebrew's gaze upon thee?\nSay thou dost forgive me!\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" he said hastily; \"thou hast not done me to death by thine\nundutifulness.  And the Hebrew fears me.  Get back to thy chamber and\nrest.\"  He kissed her and undid her clinging arms.  Going to the king,\nhe put aside Hotep, who was striving to raise the monarch, and lifted\nMeneptah in his arms.\n\n\"Masanath is better now, good Hotep, and I would take my place beside\nmy king.\"\n\nWithout summoning further aid, he half carried the limp monarch up the\nhall and into the royal bed-chamber.\n\nWeak, shaking, sated with horror and numb with fear, Masanath attempted\nto return to her apartments, but at the second step she reeled.  Hotep\nsaw her.  The fan-bearer was not in sight.  In an instant the scribe\nwas beside the fainting girl, supporting her, nor did he release her\nuntil she was safe in the ministering arms of Nari.\n\nAs he was leaving her he commended her most solemnly to the gods.\n\n\"Death hath wrenched a scepter from the gods and ruled the world this\nnight,\" he said.  \"We may not delude ourselves that we have escaped, my\nLady.  As sure as there is a first-born in thy father's house and in\nmine, that one is dead.  And think of those others whom we love, the\neldest born of other houses!  Do thou pray for us, thou perfect spirit.\nI can not, for there is little reverence for my gods in me this night.\"\n\nHe turned away and disappeared down the corridor.\n\nWithin her chamber Masanath knelt and dutifully strove to pray, but her\npetition resolved itself into a repeated cry for help.  In that hour\nshe did not think of the relief to her and to many that the death of\nRameses had brought about, for in her heart she counted it sin to be\nglad of benefit wrought by the death of any man.\n\nThrough the fingers across her face she knew that dawn was breaking,\nbut quiet had not settled on the city.  Surging murmurs of unanimous\nsorrow rose and fell as if blown by the chill wind to and fro over\nEgypt.  The nation crouched with her face in the dust.  There was no\nperfunctory sorrow in her abasement.  She was bowed down with her own\nwoe, not Meneptah's.  Never before had a prince's going-out been\nattended by such wild grief.  There was no comfort in Egypt, and the\nair was tremulous with mourning from the first cataract to the sea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI\n\nTHE ANGEL OF DEATH\n\nKenkenes had spent two weeks in Goshen in systematic search for Rachel.\n\nThe labor had been time-consuming and fruitless.\n\nMore than two million Israelites were encamped about Pa-Ramesu, and\namong this host Kenkenes had searched thoroughly and fearlessly.  He\nwas an Egyptian and a noble, and Israel did not make his way easy.  But\nall Judah knew Rachel and loved her, and the first the young man came\nupon was a quarryman who had known of Rachel's flight from Har-hat and\nof her protection at the hands of an Egyptian.  Therefore when Kenkenes\nbore witness, by his stature, that he was the protecting Egyptian, and\nby his testimony concerning the God of Israel, that he was worthy, this\nfriendly son of Judah began to suspect that Rachel would be glad to see\nthe young noble, and he joined Kenkenes in his search.  Furthermore, he\nsoftened the hearts of the tribe toward the Egyptian and they tolerated\nhim with some assumption of grace.\n\nThe other tribes gave him no heed except to glower at him in the\ncamp-ways or to mutter after him when he had passed.  Seeing that Judah\nsuffered him, they did not fall on him.  Thus the young man was safe.\nAs for the notice Kenkenes took of Israel, it began and ended with his\ninquiry after Rachel, the daughter of Maai the Compassionate, a son of\nJudah.  His earnestness absorbed him.  Otherwise he was but partly\nconscious of great preparations making in camp, of tremendous\nexcitement, heightening of zeal and vast meetings after nightfall, when\nhe had withdrawn to a far-off meadow to sleep in the grass.\n\nWhen he had searched throughout the length and breadth of Israel and\nfound Rachel not, he led his horse from the distant meadow, where he\nhad been pastured, and turned his head toward Tanis.\n\nWhile he was binding the saddle of sheep's wool about the Arab's narrow\ngirth he was surprised to find that the friendly son of Judah had\nfollowed him to the pasture.  The man approached, as though one spirit\nurged him and another held him back, and offered Kenkenes the shelter\nof his tent for the night.\n\nSomewhat gratified and astonished, Kenkenes, thanked him and declined.\nStill the Hebrew lingered and urged him with strange persistence.\nKenkenes expressed his gratitude, but would not stay.\n\nHaving taken the road toward Tanis where Rachel might be in the hands\nof Har-hat, his heart seemed to turn to iron in his breast.  All the\nenergies and aims of his youth seemed to resolve into one grim and\ninexorable purpose.\n\nIt was far into the second watch when he left Pa-Ramesu.  But the great\ncity of tents was not yet sleeping.\n\nThe horse was anxious for a journey after a fortnight of idleness and\nhe bade fair to keep pace with his rider's impatience.  The Arabian\nhills had sunk below the sky-line and the Libyan desert was not marked\nby any eminence.  With Pa-Ramesu behind him, a wide unbroken horizon\nbelted the dusky landscape.  The lights winked out over Goshen and the\nhamlets were not visible except as Kenkenes came upon them.  The\nshepherd dogs barked afar off, or now and then a wakened bird cheeped\ndrowsily, or the waters in the canals rippled over a pebbly space.\n\nBut these sounds ceased unaccountably, at last, and a silence settled\ndown till the atmosphere was tense with stillness.  A deadening hand\nseemed to cover the night.\n\nThe silence roused Kenkenes and he realized the solemnity of the earth,\nthe vastness of the sky and the majesty of the solitude.  Mysteriously\naffected, he withdrew within himself and humbly acknowledged the One\nGod.\n\nAt midnight a chill struck the breeze and he drew his mantle about him\nwhile he rode.  The wind freshened and a heated counter-current from\nthe desert met it and they whirled away, rustling through the grassy\ncountry.\n\nThe Arab reduced his gallop so suddenly that Kenkenes was jolted.  The\nsmall peaked ears of the horse went up and he showed a disposition to\nmove sidewise into the meadow growth beside the way.\n\n\"A wild beast hath taken the road,\" Kenkenes thought.\n\nThe horse brought up, with a start, his prominent muscles twitching,\nand sniffed the air strongly.\n\nA high oscillation in the atmosphere descended on Kenkenes.\n\nThe Arab reared, snorting, and then crouched, quivering with wild\nterror in every limb.\n\nUnconscious, even of the movement, Kenkenes threw up his arm as if to\nward off the blow and bent upon his horse's neck.\n\nGust after gust of icy air swept down on his head, as if winnowed by\nfrozen wings.  Then with a backward waft, colder than any wind he had\never known, the hovering Presence passed.\n\nInstantly the horse plunged and took the road toward Tanis as if stung\nby a lash.  Kenkenes, shaken and full of solemn dread, did well to keep\nhis saddle.  He grasped the stout leather bridle with strong hands, but\nhe might have curbed the hurricane as easily.  The Arab stretched his\ngaunt length, running low, and the haunted night reechoed with the\nsound of his hoofs.  The land of Goshen lay east and west, with a\nslight divergence toward the north.  The road to Tanis ran due north.\nIt was not long until Kenkenes' flying steed brought him in sight of\nthe un-Israelite Goshen.  Illuminated windows starred the plain and the\nwind shrilling in Kenkenes' ears bore uncanny sounds.  A turf-thatched\nhovel at the roadside showed a light as they swept by and a long scream\nclove the air, but the Arab was not to be halted.\n\nThe murmurous wind did not soothe him, and the wakeful night had a\nterror for him that he could not outrun.  He veered sharply and\ngalloped through the pastures to avoid a roadside hamlet that shrieked\nand moaned.  He leaped irrigation canals and brush hedges, swept\nthrough fields and gardens, until, at last, by dint of persuasion,\ncoupled with the animal's growing fatigue, Kenkenes succeeded in\ndrawing the horse down into a milder pace.\n\nThe young man made no effort to fathom the mysterious visitation.\nInstead, he bowed his head and rode on, awed and humbled.\n\nThe night wore away and the gray of the morning showed him,\nstrange-featured, the misty levels, meadows, fields and gardens of\nnorthern Goshen.  The wind faltered and died; the stars, strewn down\nthe east, paled and went out, one by one.  Fragmentary clouds toward\nthe sunrise became apparent, tinted, silvered and at last, like flakes\nof gold, scattered down to a point of intensest brilliance on the\nhorizon.  A lark sprang out of the wet, wind-mown grass of a meadow and\nshot up, up till it was lost in radiance and only a few of its\nexquisite notes filtered down to earth again.\n\nA brazen rim showed redly on the horizon and the next instant the sun\nbounded above the sky-line.\n\nIt was the morning after the Passover, and Kenkenes, the son of Mentu,\nwas the only Egyptian first-born that lived to see it break.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII\n\nEXPATRIATION\n\nAt sunrise, Kenkenes drew up his horse and took counsel with himself.\nBy steady riding he could reach Tanis shortly, but once within the\ncapital of the Pharaoh, he was near to Har-hat and within reach of the\nfan-bearer's potent hand.  When he entered the city he must be mentally\nand physically alert.  He had not slept since the last daybreak, and he\nwas weary and heavy-headed.\n\nAhead of him was a squat hamlet, set on the very border of Goshen.  It\nwas the same village that Seti had designated in his appointment with\nMoses.  Here he might have found a hospitable roof and a pallet of\nmatting, but the accompanying gratuity of curiosity and comment would\nhave outweighed the small advantage of a bed indoors over a bed in the\nmeadows.\n\nHe dismounted and, leading his horse some distance from the road, into\nthe fringe of water-sprouts which lined the canal, picketed him within\nshade, out of view from the highway.  Usually the meadow growth within\nreach of the seepage from the canals was most luxuriant, and here the\nflocks of the Israelites had come for sweet grass.  They had kept the\nunderbrush down, and the herbage closely cropped.  But for two months\nIsrael had been near Pa-Ramesu with its cattle, and the canal-borders\nwere again riotous with growth.  The place Kenkenes came upon was most\ntempting, odorous and cool.  He rolled his mantle for a pillow and\nflung himself into the grass, where he lay, half-buried in green, and\nslept.\n\nThe April sun, hot as a torrid July noon in northern lands, discovered\nthe sleeper and stared into his upturned face.  He flung his arm across\nhis eyes and slept on.  Shadows fell and lengthened; the afternoon\npassed, and still he slept.\n\nMounted couriers riding at a dead gallop, passed over the road, toward\nTanis.  Following them, war-chariots thundered by with a castanet\naccompaniment of jingling harness and jarring armor.  Kenkenes stirred\nduring the tumult, but when it had receded he lay still again.  Three\nmounted soldiers leading a score of horses passed.  The Arab in the\ncopse whinnied softly.  A second trio of soldiers, following with a\nsmaller drove, heard the call from the bushes and drew up.  The\nforemost man spoke to another, tossed the knotted bridles to him and,\ndismounting, came through the copse to the Arab.  There he found the\nyoung nobleman, sleeping.\n\nFor a moment he hesitated, but no longer.  Silently he untied the\nhorse, led him forth, attached him with the others and speedily took\nthe road toward Tanis.\n\nAfter these had passed the road was deserted and no more came that way.\nIn a little time the sun set.  The wind from the north freshened and\nswayed the close-standing bushes so that their branches chafed one\nagainst another.  At the sound Kenkenes, ready to wake, stirred and\nopened his eyes.  After a moment he sat up and looked for the Arab.\nThe horse was gone.\n\nKenkenes arose and searched industriously.  The trampled space in the\nroad convinced him that the horse had departed with a number of others.\nHoping that he might find some trace of the lost animal among the\ninhabitants, he went to the hamlet.\n\nTwo ragged lines of huts, built of sun-dried brick, formed a single\nstraggling street.  A low shed, the first building Kenkenes came upon,\nshowed a flickering red light.  A spare figure darted into it, just\nahead of the young man.\n\nFrom the threshold, the whole of the small interior was visible.\n\nThe light came from a small annealing oven.  At a table, overlaid with\na thin slab of stone, a man was modeling a cat in clay.  On the\nopposite side of the room was a younger man, painting an image,\npreparatory to burning it in the oven.  The walls were black with\nsmoke, the floor strewn with broken images and dried crumbs of clay.\n\nIn the center of the room was the spare figure, in white robes.\nKenkenes had opened his lips to speak when the conversation among the\ntrio stopped him.\n\n\"Cowards!  Dastards!\" the spare man vociferated.  \"Is there not a\npatriot in Egypt?  The Pharaoh in danger and not a man in the hamlet\nwho will raise a heel to save him!\"\n\n\"Holy Father,\" the short man protested, \"the way is long, the horses\nhave been required at our hands by the Pharaoh and were taken from us,\nand if there be evil omens, the king's sorcerers will discover them.\"\n\n\"King's sorcerers!\" the spare man repeated indignantly.  \"There is not\none of them who can tell a star from a fire-fly or read the events of\nyesterday!  Horses!  Must ye go mounted, in litters, in chariots,\nafraid of the harsh earth and a rough mile?  In my youth, the young men\nwent barefoot and traveled the desert for the joy of effort.  Oh, for\none of mine own best days!  Horses!\"\n\n\"Is the son of Hofa away?\" the younger man asked.  \"He is a runner as\nwell as a soldier.\"\n\nThe spare man broke out afresh.\n\n\"A runner!  Aye, of a truth he is a runner.  When the tidings came that\nthe Pharaoh was to pursue the Israelites he ran his best--for the\nhay-fields--and is hidden safe under a swath somewhere--the craven!\"\n\nKenkenes stepped into the shed.\n\n\"What is this concerning the Israelites?\" he demanded.\n\nThe spare man turned and the two artisans gazed at the young sculptor\nwith open mouths.\n\n\"The news is not to be cried abroad,\" the spare man replied shortly.\n\n\"Thou hast become cautious too late,\" Kenkenes retorted.  \"The most of\nthy talk have I heard.  I would know the rest of it.\"\n\n\"By Bast, thou art imperious!  In my great days the nobles groveled to\nme.  Now, am I commanded by them.  How thou art fallen, Jambres!\n\n\"The Israelites, my Lord,\" he continued mockingly, \"departed out of the\nland of Goshen, in the early morning hours of this day, but the Pharaoh\nhath repented, and will pursue them--to turn them back, or to destroy\nthem.\"  The old man's voice lost its sarcasm and became anxious.\n\n\"But the signs are ominous, the portents are evil.  I know, I know, for\nI am no less a mystic because I have fallen from state.  His seers are\nliars, they can not guide the king.  He must not pursue them, for death\nshadows him the hour he leaves the gates of Tanis.  He must not go!  I\nlove him yet, and I can not see him overthrown.\"\n\n\"Thou art no more eager to stay him than I,\" Kenkenes answered quickly.\n\"Thou art in need of a runner.  I am one.\"\n\nThe eye of the sorcerer fell on the young man's dress.\n\n\"A runner among the nobility?\" he commented suspiciously.\n\n\"Is a man less likely to be a patriot because he is of blood, or less\nfleet of foot because he is noble?\"\n\n\"Nay; nor less useful because he is sharp of tongue.  Come with me!\"\nJambres seized his arm and, hurrying him out of the shed, went through\nthe ragged street to the shrine at the upper end of the village.\n\nFrom the tunnel-like entrance between the dwarf pylons a light was\ndiffused as though it came through thin hangings.  The pair entered the\nporch and passed into the sanctuary.\n\nEntering his study, Jambres made his way to the heavy table and,\nfumbling about the compartments under it, drew forth a wrapped and\naddressed roll.  Taking up a lighted lamp, he scrutinized the messenger\nsharply.\n\nWhile he gazed, Kenkenes took the opportunity of inspecting the priest.\nHe had been a familiar figure about the palaces of two monarchs.  For\nthirty years he had read the stars for the great Rameses, six for\nMeneptah, but he had measured rods with Moses and had fallen.  From the\npinnacle of power he had declined precipitately to the obscurest office\nin the priesthood.  This bird-cote shrine was his.\n\n\"Art thou seasoned?  Canst thou endure?  Nay, no need to ask that,\" he\nanswered himself, surveying the strong figure before him.  \"But who art\nthou?\"\n\n\"I am the son of Mentu, the murket.\"\n\n\"The son of Mentu?  Enough.  If a drop of that man's blood runneth in\nthy veins, thou art as steadfast as death.  Surely the gods are with\nme.\"\n\nHe opened a second compartment in the end of the table, but before he\nfound what he sought he raised himself, suddenly.\n\n\"If thou art that son of the murket,\" he asked, \"how is it thou art not\ndead?\"\n\nKenkenes looked at him, wondering if the news of his supposed death had\npenetrated even to this little hamlet.\n\n\"Art thou not thy father's eldest born?\" the priest asked further.\n\n\"His only child.\"\n\n\"What sheltered thee in last night's harvest of death?\"\n\n\"Thou speakest in riddles, holy Father.\"\n\n\"Knowest thou not that every first-born in Egypt died last night at the\nHebrew's sending?\" the sorcerer demanded.\n\n\"The first-born of Egypt,\" Kenkenes repeated slowly.  \"At the Hebrew's\nsending?\"\n\n\"Aye, by the sorcery of Mesu.  Save for the eldest of Israel, there is\nno living first-born in Egypt to-day.  From that most imperial Prince\nRameses to the firstling of the cowherd, they are dead!\"\n\nThe young man heard him first with a chill of horror, half-unbelieving,\nbarely comprehending.  He was not of Israel and yet he had been spared.\nThen he remembered the dread presence above him in the night,--the\nchill from its noiseless wing.  A light, instant and brilliant as a\nrevelation, broke over him.  Unconsciously, he raised his eyes and\nclasped his hands against his breast.  He knew that his God had\nacknowledged him.\n\nWhen his thoughts returned to earth, he found the glittering eyes of\nthe sorcerer fixed upon him.\n\n\"Seeing that thou dost live, tell me what sheltered thee in this\nharvest of death?\" Jambres repeated.\n\n\"The Lord God of Israel, who reaped it.\"\n\nThe answer was direct and fearless.  To the astonished priest who heard\nit, it seemed triumphant.\n\nEach of the many emotions the sorcerer experienced, displayed itself,\nin turn, on his face,--amazement, anger, censure, irresolution,\ndistrust.  After a silence, he took up the scroll and made as if to\nreturn it to its hiding-place in the compartments under the table.\n\n\"Stay,\" Kenkenes said, laying his hand on the sorcerer's.  \"Put it not\naway, for I shall carry it.  Shall I, being a believer in Israel's God,\nbe willing for the Pharaoh to pursue Israel?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" Jambres replied bluntly; \"but thou wouldst stay him for Israel's\nsake; I would prevent him for his own.\"\n\n\"So the same end is accomplished, wherefore quarrel over the motive?\nBut when thou speakest of Israel's sake, which, by the testimony of\npast events, is now the more imperiled, Egypt or Israel?\"\n\n\"Egypt!  But it shall not be wholly overthrown through mine incautious\ntrust of a messenger.\"\n\nThe young man still retained his hold on the sorcerer's hand.\n\n\"Thou dost impugn my fidelity.  Now, consider this.  I could have\ndefeated thee and accomplished the Pharaoh's undoing by refusing to\ncarry the message, by keeping silence in yonder shed of image-makers.\nIs it not so?\"\n\nJambres assented.\n\n\"Even so.  Instead, I offered and now I insist.  Now, if thou deniest\nme, there is none to carry the warning and thou, thyself, hast undone\nthe Pharaoh.\"\n\nThe sorcerer put away the hand and showed no sign of softening.\n\n\"Nay, then,\" Kenkenes said, \"there is no need of the writing.  I shall\nwarn the king by word of mouth.\"  He turned away and walked swiftly\ntoward the portals of the shrine.  Jambres beheld him recede into the\ndusk and wavered.\n\n\"Stay!\" he called.\n\nKenkenes stopped.\n\n\"Wilt thou swear fidelity by the holy Name?\"\n\n\"Aye, and by that holier Name of Jehovah, also.\"\n\nHe returned and faced the priest.  \"Thou art mystic, Father Jambres,\"\nhe said persuasively; \"what does thy heart tell thee of me?\"\n\n\"The supplication of the need indorses thee, as it indorses any\ndesperate chance.  If thou art false, thou art the instrument of Set,\nwhom the Hathors have given to overthrow Egypt.  If thou art true, the\nPharaoh shall return safe to his capital in Memphis.  The gratitude of\nEgypt will be sufficient reward.\"\n\n\"And I take the message?\"\n\nJambres nodded.  \"Art thou armed?\" he asked, bending again to look into\nthe compartment he had opened.\n\n\"Except for my dagger, nay.\"\n\nThe sorcerer brought forth a falchion of that wondrous metal that could\ncarve syenite granite and bite into porphyry; also, a pair of\nhorse-hide sandals and a flat water-bottle.\n\n\"Put on these.\"\n\nKenkenes undid his cloak and untying his broidered sandals, wrapped\nthem in his mantle and bound the roll, crosswise, on his back.  Over\nthis he slung the water-bottle, which the priest had filled in the\nmeantime, fixed the falchion at his side and put on the horse-hide\nsandals.\n\n\"When hast thou broken thy fast?\" the priest asked next.\n\n\"At sunset yesterday.\"\n\nThe priest turned with a sign to the young man to follow him and,\npassing through the shrine, led the way out of the sanctuary into the\nhouse of the sorcerer.  Here, shortly, Kenkenes was served by a slave,\nwith a haunch of gazelle-meat, lettuce, white bread and wine.\n\nWhile he ate, the priest informed him of the situation he might expect\nto find at the end of his journey.\n\n\"The Israelites departed in the early hours of this morning taking the\nWady Toomilat, east, toward the gates of the Rameside wall.  It was the\ngoing forth of a multitude,--the exodus of a nation!  And they will\ntravel at the pace of their slowest lambs.  Thus Meneptah can gather\nhis legions and make ready to pursue ere they have reached the wall.\"\nThe priest had begun calmly, but the thought of pursuit excited him.\n\n\"He must not follow!\" he continued.  \"They are unarmed, but the Pharaoh\ndeals with a wizard and a strange God--no common foe.  And if these\nwere all who have evil intents against him, but there is\nanother--another!\"\n\nHe came to the young man's side, saying in an excited whisper:\n\n\"There is another, I say, within the king's affections--a scorpion\ncherished in his bosom!\"\n\nThe old man's vehemence and his words fired Kenkenes.  He arose and\nfaced Jambres with kindling eyes.  The sorcerer went on with increasing\nexcitement.\n\n\"Better that his slaves depart increased, enriched threefold by Egypt,\nbetter that never again one stone be laid upon another, nor monument\nbear the king's name, than that Meneptah should leave the precincts of\nshelter!  For his enemy would lead him outside the pale of protection,\nand there put him to death, and wear his crown after him!\"\n\nDuring this impetuous augury, the young man naturally searched after\nthe identity of the offender.  Not Ta-user, nor Siptah, nor Amon-meses,\nfor the sorry tale of Seti and the outlawing of the trio had reached\nhim at Pa-Ramesu.  Furthermore, they had never had a place in the\naffections of the king.  There was a new conspirator!  At this point\nthe blood heated and went charging through the young man's veins.\n\n\"If the king's enemy be mine enemy,\" he declared passionately, \"thou\nhast this hour commissioned and armed that enemy's dearest foe!  Name\nhim.\"\n\nThe priest shook his head.  His excitement had not carried him beyond\nthe limits of caution.\n\n\"Save for my mystic knowledge, I have no proof against him, and if I\nbalk him not and offend him, he hath a heavy and a vengeful hand.\"\n\n\"And thou hast not named him in the writing?\"\n\nAgain the priest shook his head.\n\n\"Then,\" said the young man firmly, \"then will I name him to the\nPharaoh!\"\n\nJambres looked at Kenkenes with profound admiration, not unmixed with\napprehension.\n\n\"Let not thy youthful zeal undo thee,\" he cautioned.  \"Perchance thou\ndost mistake the man.\"\n\n\"The gods did not bestow all the art upon the mystics when they endowed\nthee with divining powers.  They gifted every man with a little of it,\nand it speaketh no less truthfully because it is small.  Come, thy\nboard has been generous and I am satisfied.  I have another and a\nfiercer hunger I would appease.  Give me the message and let me be\ngone.\"\n\nSilent, the priest led the way again into the sanctuary.  Taking the\nscroll from its hiding-place once more he said, as he gave it into the\nmessenger's hands: \"Go first to Tanis, and if thou findest not the king\nin his capital, seek until thou dost find him.  And have a care to\nthyself.\"\n\nKenkenes hesitated a moment, and said at last:\n\n\"It may be that I shall not return, but I would have my father know\nthat I died not with the first-born.  Wilt thou tell him, when thou\ncanst?\"\n\n\"The word shall go to him by sunset to-morrow if I carry it myself.\"\n\nKenkenes expressed his thanks and the priest went on.\n\n\"Be not rash, I charge thee.  Farewell, and thy father's gods attend\nthee.\"\n\nWithout the dwarf pylons, Kenkenes bent for the old man's blessing and\nturned away.  Walking rapidly to the northern limits of the town, he\ntook the dusty highway again, and struck into an easy run.\n\nThe road sloped up toward the north, but the rise was gradual and the\nascent was not wearying.  The miles slipped behind swiftly, for he\ncovered them as naturally as the unloitering bird traverses the air.\n\nIn two hours he had reached the pinnacle of the upland.  To the north\nthe road led continuously down to the sea.  He paused and looked back\nover the long gentle declivity toward the south and west.\n\nA sharp pain pierced him.  In that moment, he realized that he was\nexpatriated.  After he had warned Meneptah, Egypt dropped out of his\naims.  Thereafter he had the rescue of Rachel, or her avenging to\naccomplish, and the results following upon the necessity of either of\nthese alternatives would not permit him to return into the land of his\nfathers.  There was no turning back now, nor any desire in him to do\nso.  His conscience had been witness to the renunciation of his nation\nand his faith, and it did not chide him.\n\nStill he stretched out his arms to the limitless, featureless, velvety\ndusk that was Egypt by day, and wept.\n\nHe entered Tanis in the middle of the third watch, and there he learned\nthat the Pharaoh had departed, but whither, the solemn, haggard\ncitizens he met could not tell.  He repaired to the inn, a house of\nmourning, also, and awaited the dawn.  Then he looked on the funereal\ncapital of Meneptah.  The city no longer cried out; it sighed or\nsobbed, exhausted with its grief; it went the heavy round of labor\ndemanded by the necessities of life, bowed, disheveled and blinded with\nwoe.  Kenkenes, humbled, sorrowful, and helpless, averted his eyes and\nhurried to the palace.\n\nThere he found that the queen and Seti, with all the queen's retinue,\nhad departed on a pilgrimage to the temple of the sacred ram at Mendes\nfor the welfare of the soul of Rameses.  Masanath was in Pelusium\nmourning for her sister who died with the first-born.  The\nothers,--Har-hat, Hotep, Nechutes, Menes, Seneferu, Kephren the\nmohar,--all except the palace attendants had accompanied the king.  The\ngreat house of the Pharaoh was empty, solitary and haunted.\n\nThe destination of the king was a state secret that had not been\nimparted to the chamberlains.  Kenkenes returned into the unhappy\nstreets again.\n\nHe went to the square in which the loiterers were congregated, even\nthough there was one dead in the household, and seeking out the most\nintelligent, questioned him concerning the departure of the Pharaoh.\n\nHe learned that the king and the ministers had left Tanis, and driven\nsouth, the afternoon after the night of death.  At nightfall, sixteen\nchariots from the nome followed him.  And though the young man inquired\nof many sources in the capital, he discovered nothing further.\n\nAvowedly, it was Meneptah's intent to overtake the Hebrews, turn them\nback, or destroy them.  He could not accomplish that thing with a score\nof ministers and sixteen picked chariots.  It was evident that he meant\nto collect an army near the track of the Hebrews, and that he had\ndeparted for the rendezvous.\n\nIf the Israelites traveled but two miles an hour, they could cover the\ndistance between Pa-Ramesu and the Rameside wall by the sunset of this,\nthe second day after the death of the first-born.  It would have been\nthe first act of the Pharaoh to close the gates of the wall against\nthem.  The army of the north could gather from the remotest nomes by\nthe close of this day also.  Therefore, the hour to proceed against the\nIsraelites was not far away.  Kenkenes knew that he might not delay,\neven for a short sleep, in Tanis.\n\nHe fixed upon Pithom as the chosen spot for the rendezvous, since it\nwas situated on the Wady Toomilat.\n\nHe refreshed himself with a beaker of sour wine in which a recuperative\nsimple had been stirred, and took the road to the south.\n\nImmediately outside of the city walls he came upon the track of the\ndeparting king, and followed it faithfully as long as there was light\nto show it to him.  A dozen miles out of Tanis he ceased to run, and\nthereafter his progress became slower as his fatigue increased.  Toward\nthe end of the first watch, at the northern borders of the district\nknown as Succoth, at the extreme east of Goshen, he came upon a mighty\ntrack.\n\nEven in the dark he could see that a diaphanous gauze of dust overhung\nit and the air was heavy with the most volatile particles.  The sandy\nearth had been ground and worked to the depth of over a foot.  How\ndifficult had it been for the rearmost ranks to cover this ploughed\nsoil!  The track was a mile in width, and by the nature of the marks\nupon it, Kenkenes knew that husbandmen, not warriors, had passed over\nthis spot.  It was the path of Israel, leading east to the Rameside\nwall.\n\nKenkenes tightened his sandal straps and continued toward the south.\nAhead of him, the horizon began to glow and then an edge,--a half,--all\nof a perfect moon lifted a vast orange disk above the world.  At its\nfirst appearance it was sharply cut by a tower of the city of Pithom.\n\n\"Now, the God of Israel be thanked,\" he said to himself, \"for another\nmile I can not cover.\"\n\nThe gates were tightly closed and a sentry from the wall challenged him.\n\n\"I bring a message to the Pharaoh,\" he answered.\n\n\"The Son of Ptah is not within the walls.\"\n\n\"Hath he departed,\" Kenkenes wearily asked, \"or came he not hither?\"\n\n\"He came not to Pithom.\"\n\n\"Come thou down, then, and let me in, friend, for I am spent.\"\n\nIn a little time, he entered the inn of the treasure city, was given a\nbed, upon which he flung himself without so much as loosening the\nkerchief on his head, and slept.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII\n\n\"THE PHARAOH DREW NIGH\"\n\nIn mid-afternoon of the following day, Kenkenes awoke and made ready to\ntake up his search again.  He was weary, listless and sore, but his\nmission urged him as if death threatened him.\n\nThe young man's athletic training had taught him how to recuperate.\nMost of the process was denied him now, because of his haste and the\nlittle time at his command, but the smallest part would be beneficial.\nHe stepped into the streets of the treasure city, and paused again,\ntill the recollection of the sorrow upon Egypt returned to him to\nexplain the gloom over Pithom.  The great melancholy of the land,\nattending him hauntingly, oppressed him with a sense of culpability.\nAnd he dared not ask himself wherein he deserved his good fortune above\nhis countrymen, lest he seem to question the justice of the God of his\nadoption.\n\nAt a bazaar he purchased two pairs of horse-hide sandals, for the many\nmiles on the roads had worn out the old and he needed foot-wear in\nreserve.  From the booth he went straight to the baths, now wholly\ndeserted; for when Egypt mourned, like all the East, she neglected her\nperson.\n\nWhen he came forth he was refreshed and stronger.  Of the citizens,\nhaggard and solemn as they had been in Tanis, he asked concerning the\nPharaoh.  None had seen him, nor had he entered the city.  The last one\nhe questioned was a countryman from Goshen, and from him he learned\nthat the army was assembling in a great pasture on the southern limits\nof the Israelitish country.\n\nAt sunset he was again upon the way, taking the level highway of the\nWady Toomilat for a mile toward the west, and turning south, after that\ndistance, as the rustic had directed him.\n\nThe road was good and he ran with old-time ease.  At midnight he came\nupon the spot where the army had camped, but the Pharaoh had already\nmoved against Israel.  He had left his track.  The great belt of\ndisturbed earth wheeled to the south, and as far as Kenkenes could see\nthere was the same luminous veil of dust overhanging it, that he had\nnoted over the path of Israel.\n\nThe messenger drank deep at an irrigation canal, for he turned away\nfrom water when he followed the army, and leaving the level,\ndust-cushioned road behind, plunged into a rock-strewn, rolling land,\ndesolate and silent.  The growing light of the moon was his only\nadvantage.\n\nThe region became savage, the trail of the army wound hither and\nthither to avoid sudden eminences or sudden hollows.  Kenkenes dogged\nit faithfully, for it found the smoothest way, and, besides, the wild\nbeasts had been frightened from the track of a multitude.\n\nIn the early hour of the morning, Kenkenes emerged from a high-walled\nvalley with battlemented summits.  Before him was the army encamped,\nand wild, indeed, was the region chosen for the night's rest.  The\nglistening soil was thickly strewn with rocks, varying in size from\nhuge cubes to sharp shingle.  Every abrupt ravine ahead was accentuated\nwith profound shadow, and the dim horizon was broken with hills.  The\nlocality maintained an irregular slope toward the east.  The camp\nstretched before the messenger for a mile, but the great army had\nchanged its posture.  It squatted like a tired beast.\n\nKenkenes approached it dropping with weariness, and after a time was\npassed through the lines and conducted to the headquarters of the king.\nIn the center of the great field were pitched the multi-hued tents of\nMeneptah and his generals.  Above them, turning like weather-vanes upon\ntheir staves, were the standards bearing the royal and divine device,\nthe crown and the uplifted hands, the plumes and the god-head.\n\nAbout the royal pavilion in triple cordon paced the noble body-guard of\nthe Pharaoh.\n\nOf one of these Kenkenes asked that a personal attendant of the king be\nsent to him.\n\nIn a little time, some one emerged from the Pharaoh's tent, and came\nthrough the guard-line to the messenger.  It was Nechutes.\n\nThe cup-bearer took but a single glance at Kenkenes and started back.\n\n\"Thou!\" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.  \"Out of Amenti!\"\n\n\"And nigh returning into it again,\" was the tired reply.\n\nIn a daze, Nechutes took the offered hands and stared at Kenkenes\nthrough the dark.\n\n\"Where hast thou been?\" he finally asked.\n\n\"In the profoundest depths of trouble, Nechutes, nor have I come out\ntherefrom.\"\n\nThe cup-bearer's face showed compassion even in the dusk.\n\n\"Nay, now; thine was but the fortune a multitude of lovers have\nsuffered before thee,\" he said, with a contrite note in his deep voice.\n\"It was even odds between us and I won.  Hold it not against me,\nKenkenes.\"\n\nIt was the sculptor's turn to be amazed.  But with one of the instant\nrealizations that acute memory effects, he recalled that he had\ndisappeared immediately after Nechutes had been accepted by the Lady\nTa-meri.  And now, by the word of the apologetic cup-bearer, was it\nmade apparent to Kenkenes that a tragic fancy concerning the cause of\nhis disappearance had taken root in the cup-bearer's mind.  With a\ndesperate effort, Kenkenes choked the first desire to laugh that had\nseized him in months.\n\n\"Nay, let it pass, Nechutes,\" he said in a strained voice.  \"Thou and I\nare friends.  But lead me to the king, I pray thee.\"\n\n\"To the king?\" the cup-bearer repeated doubtfully.  \"The king sleeps.\nWill thine interests go to wreck if thou bidest till dawn?\"\n\n\"I carry him a message,\" Kenkenes explained.\n\n\"A message!\"\n\n\"Even so.  Hand hither a torch.\"\n\nA soldier went and returned with a flaming knot of pitch.  In the\nwavering light of the flambeau, Nechutes read the address on the linen\nscroll.\n\n\"The king could not read by the night-lights,\" he said after a little.\n\"Much weeping is not helpful to such feeble eyes as his.  Wait till\ndawn.  My tent is empty and my bed is soft.  Wait till daybreak as my\nguest.\"\n\n\"Where is Har-hat?\"\n\n\"In his tent, yonder,\" pointing to a party-colored pavilion.\n\n\"Dost thou keep an unsleeping eye on the Pharaoh?\"\n\n\"By night, aye.\"\n\nKenkenes had a thought to accept the cup-bearer's hospitality.  He knew\nthat the expected climax would follow immediately upon the king's\nperusal of the message, and that the nature of that climax depended\nupon himself.  He needed mental vigor and bodily freshness to make\neffective the work before him.  His cogitations decided him.\n\n\"Let the unhappy king sleep, then, Nechutes; far be it from me to bring\nhim back to the memory of his sorrows.  Lead me to thy shelter, if thou\nwilt.\"\n\nWith satisfaction in his manner Nechutes conducted his guest into a\ncomfortably furnished tent, and showed him a mattress overlaid with\nsheeting of fine linen.\n\n\"Shame that thou must defer this soft sleeping till the noisy and\nglaring hours of the day,\" Kenkenes observed as he fell on the bed.\n\n\"By this time to-morrow night, I may content myself in a bed of sand\nwith a covering of hyena-fending stones,\" the cup-bearer muttered.\n\n\"Comfort thee, Nechutes,\" the artist said sententiously, \"But do thou\nraise me from this ere daybreak, even if thou must take a persuasive\nspear to me.\"\n\nSo saying, he fell asleep at once.\n\nAfter some little employment among his effects, the cup-bearer came to\nthe bedside on his way back to the king's tent, and bent over his guest.\n\n\"Holy Isis! but I am glad he died not!\" he said to himself.  \"Aye, and\nthere be many who are as glad as I am.  Dear Ta-meri!  She will be\nrejoiced, and Hotep.  What a great happiness for the old murket--\" he\npaused and clasped his hands together.  \"He is Mentu's only son!  Now,\nin the name of the mystery-dealing Hathors, how came it that he died\nnot with the first-born?\"  After a silence he muttered aloud: \"Gods!\nthe army would barter its mummy to have the secret of his safety, this\nday!\"\n\nAt the first glimmerings of the dawn, the melody of many winded\ntrumpets arose over the encampment of the Egyptians.  Now the notes\nwere near and clear, now afar and tremulous; again, deep and sonorous;\nnow, full and rich, and yet again, fine and sweet.  There is a pathos\nin the call of a war-trumpet that no frivolous rendering can subdue--it\nhas sung so long at the death of men and nations.\n\nOutlined in black silhouette against the whitening horizons, the\nsentries, tiny and slow-moving in the distance, tramped from post to\npost in a forward-leaning line.  Soldiers began to shout to each other.\nThe clanking of many arms made another and a harsher music.  The tumult\nof thousands of voices burdened the wind and above this presently arose\nthe eager and expectant whinnyings of a multitude of war-horses.\n\nWhile the army broke its fast and prepared to move the king stood in\nthe open space before his tent, with his eyes on the east.  The Red Sea\nlay there beyond the uplifted line of desert sand, and it was the\nbirthplace of many mists and unpropitious signs.\n\nWould the sun look upon the king through a veil, or openly?  Would he\nsmile upon the purposes of the Pharaoh?\n\nThere were striations, watery and colorless, in the lower slopes of the\nmorning sky, and these were taking on the light of dawn without its\nhues.  Long wind-blown streaks crossed the zenith from east to west and\nthe setting stars were blurred.  The moon had worn a narrowing circlet\nin the night.  Meneptah shook his head.\n\nSuddenly some one in the ranks of the royal guard exclaimed to a mate:\n\n\"Look!  Look to the southeast!\"\n\nMeneptah turned his eyes in that direction, as though he had been\ncommanded.  There, above the spot where he had guessed the Israelites\nto be, a straight and mighty column of vapor extended up, up into the\nsmoky blue of the sky.  The tortuous shapes of the striations across\nthe zenith indicated that there was great wind at that height, but the\ncolumn did not move or change its form.  It was further distinguished\nfrom the clouds over the dawn, by a fine amber light upon it, deepening\nto gold in its shadows.  So vivid the tint, that steady contemplation\nwas necessary to assure the beholders that it was not fire, climbing in\nand out of the pillar's heart.  Egypt's skies were rarely clouded and\nnever by such a formation as this.\n\nMeneptah turned his troubled eyes hurriedly toward the east.  He must\nnot miss the sunrise.  At that moment, unheralded, the disk of the sun\nshot above the horizon as if blown from a crater of the\nunder-world--blurred, milky-white, without warmth.\n\nHe turned away and faced Nechutes, bending before him; behind the\ncup-bearer, a stately stranger--Kenkenes.\n\n\"A message for thee, O Son of Ptah,\" Nechutes said.\n\nAt a sign from the king, the messenger came forward, knelt and\ndelivered the scroll.  The king looked at the writing on the wrapping.\n\n\"From whom dost thou bring this?\" he asked.\n\n\"From Jambres, the mystic, O Son of Ptah.\"\n\n\"Ah!\"  It was the tone of one who has his surmises proved.  \"Now, what\nis contained herein?\"\n\nKenkenes took it that the inquiry called for an answer.\n\n\"A warning, O King.\"\n\n\"How dost thou know?\"\n\n\"The purport of the message was told me ere I departed.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?  It is not common to lead the messenger into the secret he\nbears.\"\n\n\"I know, O Son of Ptah,\" Kenkenes replied quietly; \"but the messenger\nwho knew its contents would suffer not disaster or death to stay him in\ncarrying it to thee.\"\n\nAs if to delay the reading of it, the king dismissed Nechutes and\nsigned Kenkenes to arise.  Then he turned the scroll over and over in\nhis hands, inspecting it.\n\n\"Age does not cool the fever of retaliation,\" he said thoughtfully,\n\"and this ancient Jambres hath a grudge against me.  Come,\" he\nexclaimed as if an idea had struck him, \"do thou open it.\"\n\nKenkenes took the scroll thrust toward him, and ripped off the linen\nwrapping.  Unrolling the writing he extended it to the king.\n\n\"And there is naught in it of evil intent?\" Meneptah asked, putting his\nhands behind him.\n\n\"Nay, my King; naught but great love and concern for thee.\"\n\n\"Read it,\" was the next command.  \"Mine eyes are dim of late,\" he added\napologetically, for, through the young man's reassuring tones, a faint\nrealization of the trepidation he had exhibited began to dawn on\nMeneptah.\n\nKenkenes obeyed, reading without emphasis or inflection, for he knew no\nexpression was needed to convey the force of the message to the already\nintimidated king.\n\nWhen Kenkenes had finished, Meneptah was standing very close to him, as\nif assured of shelter in the heroic shadow of the tall young messenger.\nThe color had receded from the monarch's face, and his eyes had widened\ntill the white was visible all around the iris.\n\n\"Call me the guard,\" he said hoarsely; but when Kenkenes made as if to\nobey, the king stayed him in a panic.\n\n\"Nay, heed me not.  Mine assassin may be among them.\"  The sound of his\nown voice frightened him.  \"Soft,\" he whispered, \"I may be heard.\"\n\nKenkenes maintained silence, for he was not yet ready.\n\nMeanwhile, the king turned hither and thither, essayed to speak and\ncautiously refrained, grew paler of face and wider of eye, panted,\ntrembled and broke out recklessly at last.\n\n\"Gods!  Trapped!  Hemmed like a wild beast in a circle of spears!  Nay,\nnot so honestly beset.  Ringed about by vipers ready to strike at every\nstep!  And this from mine own people, whom I have cherished and hovered\nover as they were my children--\"  His voice broke, but he continued his\nlament, growing unintelligible as he talked:\n\n\"Not enough that mine enemies menace me, but mine own must stab me in\nmy straits!  Not even is the identity of mine assassin revealed, and\nthere is none on whom I may call with safety and ask protection--\"\n\n\"Nay, nay, Beloved of Ptah,\" Kenkenes interrupted.  \"There be true men\namong thy courtiers.\"\n\n\"Not one--not one whom I may trust,\" Meneptah declared hysterically.\n\n\"Here am I, then.\"\n\nMeneptah, with the inordinate suspicion of the hard-pressed, backed\nhurriedly away from Kenkenes.\n\n\"Who art thou?\" he demanded.  \"How may I know thou art not mine enemy?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" Kenkenes protested.  \"Give me ear, I pray thee.  Would I have\nbrought thee thy warning, knowing it such, were I thine enemy?  And\nfurther, did not Jambres, the mystic, who readeth men's souls, trust\nme?\"\n\n\"Aye, so it seems,\" the king admitted, glad to be won by such physical\nmagnificence.  \"But who art thou?\"\n\n\"Kenkenes, the son of Mentu, thy murket.\"\n\n\"It can not be,\" the king declared with suspicion in his eye.  \"The\nmurket had but one son and he must be dead with the first-born.\"\n\n\"Nay; I was in the land of Goshen, the night of death, and the God of\nIsrael spared me.\"\n\nMeneptah continued to gaze at him stubbornly.  Then a conclusive proof\nsuggested itself to Kenkenes, which, under the stress of an austere\npurpose and a soul-trying suspense, he had no heart to use.  But the\nneed pressed him; he choked back his unwillingness, and submitted.\nComing very close to Meneptah, he began to sing, with infinite\nsoftness, the song that the Pharaoh had heard at the Nile-side that\nsunrise, now as far away as his childhood seemed.  How strange his own\nvoice sounded to him--how out of place!\n\nAt first, the expression of surprise in the king's face was mingled\nwith perplexity.  But the dim records of memory spoke at the urging of\nassociation.  After a few bars, the Pharaoh's countenance had become\nreassured.  Kenkenes ceased at once.\n\n\"Enough!\" Meneptah declared.  \"The gods have most melodiously\ndistinguished thee from all others.  Thou art he whom I heard one dawn,\nand mine heir in Osiris, my Rameses, told me it was the son of Mentu.\"\n\n\"Then, being of the house of Mentu, thou hast no fear of my\nsteadfastness, O my Sovereign?\"\n\n\"Nay; would that I might be as trustful of all my ministers.  Alas,\nthat a single traitor should lay the stain of unfaith upon all the\ncourt!  Ah, who is mine enemy?\"\n\nThe sentence, more exclamatory than questioning, seemed to the young\nman like a call upon him to voice his impeachments.  His inclination\npressed hard upon him and the tokens of his knowledge wrote themselves\nupon his open face.  When a man is dodging death and expecting\ntreachery, his perceptions become acute.  The king, with his eyes upon\nthe young man's countenance, caught the change of expression.\n\nHe sprang at Kenkenes and seized his arms.\n\n\"Speak!\" he cried violently.  \"Thou knowest; thou knowest!\"\n\nA sudden ebullition of rage and vengeance sent a tingling current\nthrough the young man's veins.  The moment had come.  In the eye of a\ncautious man, he had been called upon for a dangerous declaration.  He\nhad a mighty man to accuse, no proof and little evidence at his\ncommand, and a weakling was to decide between them.  But his cause\nequipped him with strength and a reckless courage.  He faced the king\nfairly and made no search after ceremonious words.  He spoke as he\nfelt--intensely.\n\n\"Nay; it is thou who shalt tell me, O my King.  I know thee, even as\nall Egypt knows thee.  There is no power in thee for great evil, but\nbehold to what depths of misery is Egypt sunk!  Through thee?  Aye, if\nwe charge the mouth for the word the mind willed it to say.  Have the\ngods afflicted thee with madness, or have they given thee into the\ncompelling hands of a knave?  Say, who is it, thou or another, who\nplayeth a perilous game with Israel, this day, when its God hath\nalready rent Egypt and consumed her in wrath?  Like a wise man thou\nadmittest thine error and biddest thy scourge depart, and lo! ere thy\nwords are cold thou dost arise and recall them and invite the descent\nof new and hideous affliction upon thine empire!  Behold the winnings\nof thy play, thus far!  From Pelusium to Syene, a waste, full of\nfamine, mourners and dead men, and among these last--thy Rameses!--\"\n\nMeneptah did not permit him to finish.  Purple with an engorgement of\ngrief and fury, the monarch broke in, flailing the air with his arms.\n\n\"Har-hat!\" he cried.  \"Not I!  Har-hat, who cozened me!\"\n\nThe voice rang through the royal inclosure, and the ministers came\nrunning.\n\nForemost was Har-hat.\n\nAt sight of his enemy, the king put Kenkenes between him and the\nfan-bearer.  At sight of Kenkenes, Har-hat stopped in his tracks.\n\nBehind followed Kephren and Seneferu, the two generals, who, with the\nexception of Har-hat, the commander-in-chief, were the only\narms-bearing men away from their places among the soldiers; after\nthese, Hotep and Nechutes, Menes of the royal body-guard, the lesser\nfan-bearers, the many minor attaches to the king's person--in all a\nscore of nobles.\n\nThey came upon a portentous scene.\n\nThe tumult of preparation had subsided and the hush of readiness lay\nover the desert.  The orders were to move the army at sunrise, and that\ntime was past.  The pioneers, or path-makers for the army, were already\nfar in advance.  Horses had been bridled and each soldier stood by his\nmount.  Captains with their eyes toward the royal pavilion moved about\nrestlessly and wondered.  The high commanding officers absent, the next\nin rank began to weigh their chances to assume command.  Soldiers began\nto surmise to one another the cause of the delay, which manifestly\nfound its origin in the quarters of the king.\n\nAll this was the environment of a hollow square formed by the royal\nguard.  Within was the Pharaoh, shrinking by the side of his messenger.\nThe messenger, taller, more powerful, it seemed, by the heightening and\nstrengthening force of righteous wrath, faced the mightiest man in the\nkingdom.  Har-hat, though a little surprised and puzzled, was none the\nless complacent, confident, nonchalant.  Near the fan-bearer, but\nbehind him, were the ministers, astonished and puzzled.  But since the\npast days had been so filled with momentous events, they were ready to\nexpect a crisis at the slightest incident.\n\nThe fan-bearer did not look at the king.  It was Kenkenes who\ninterested him.\n\nThe young man's frame did not show a tremor, nor his face any\nexcitement.  There was an intense quiescence in his whole presence.\nHotep, who knew the provocation of his friend and interpreted the\nmenace in his manner, walked swiftly over to Kenkenes, as if to caution\nor prevent.  But the young sculptor undid the small hands of the king,\nclinging to his arm, and gave them to Hotep, halting, by that act, all\ninterference from the scribe.  Then he crossed the little space between\nhim and the fan-bearer.\n\n\"What hast thou done with the Israelite?\" he asked in a tone so low\nthat none but Har-hat heard him.  But the fan-bearer did not doubt the\nearnestness in the quiet demand.\n\n\"Hast thou come to trouble the king with thy petty loves, during this,\nthe hour of war?\"\n\n\"Answer!\"\n\n\"She escaped me,\" the fan-bearer answered.\n\n\"A lie will not save thee; the truth may plead for thee before Osiris.\nHast thou spoken truly?\"\n\n\"I have said, as Osiris hears me.  Have done; I have no more time for\nthee!\"\n\n\"Stand thou there!  I have not done with thee.\"\n\nThe thin nostril of the fan-bearer expanded and quivered wrathfully.\n\n\"Have a care, thou insolent!\" he exclaimed.\n\nKenkenes did not seem to hear him.  He had turned toward Meneptah.\n\n\"I have dared over-far, my King,\" he said, \"because of my love for\nEgypt and my concern for thee.  Bear with me further, I pray thee.\"\n\nMeneptah bent his head in assent.\n\n\"Suffer mine inquiry, O Son of Ptah.  Wilt thou tell me upon whose\npersuasion thou hast gathered thine army and set forth to pursue\nIsrael?\"\n\n\"Upon the persuasion of Har-hat, my minister.\"\n\n\"Yet this question further, my King.  Wherefore would he have thee\novertake these people?\"\n\n\"Since it was foolish to let them go, being my slaves, my builders and\nvery needful to Egypt.  But most particularly to execute vengeance upon\nthem for the death of my Rameses, and for the first-born of Egypt.\"\n\n\"Ye hear,\" Kenkenes said to the nobles.  Then he faced Har-hat.  The\nfan-bearer's countenance showed a remarkable increase of temper, but\nthere was no sign of apprehension or discomfiture upon it.\n\n\"Thou hast beheld the grace of thy king under question,\" Kenkenes said\ncalmly.  \"Therefore thou art denied the plea that submission to the\nsame thing will belittle thee.  Thy best defense is patience and prompt\nanswer.\"\n\n\"Perchance the king will recall his graceful testimony,\" Har-hat\nreplied with heat, \"when he learns he hath been entangled in the guilty\npursuit of a miscreant after--\"\n\nKenkenes stopped him with a menacing gesture.\n\n\"Say it not; nor tempt me further!  Thou speakest of a quarrel between\nthee and me, and of that there may be more hereafter.  Now, thou art to\nanswer to mine impeachment of thee as an offender against the Pharaoh.\"\n\nHar-hat received the declaration with a wrathful exclamation.\n\n\"Thou!  Thou to accuse me!  I to plead before thee!  By the gods, the\nlimit is reached.  The ranks of Egypt have been juggled, the law of\ndeference reversed!  A noble to bow to an artisan!  Age to give account\nof itself to green youth!\"\n\n\"And thou pratest of law!  The benefits of law are for him who obeys\nit; the reverence of youth is for the honorable old.  But thou wastest\nmine opportunity.  Thou shalt silence me no longer.\n\n\"Thy dearest enemy, O Har-hat,\" Kenkenes continued, \"would not impugn\nthy wits.  He deserves the epithet himself who calls thee fool.  But be\nnot puffed up for this thing I have said.  Thou hast made a weapon of\nthy wits and it shall recoil upon thee.  Thou seest Egypt; not in all\nthe world is there another empire so piteously humbled.  Her fields are\nwhite with bones instead of harvests; her cities are loud with mourning\ninstead of commerce; the desert hath overrun the valley.  And this from\nthe hands of the Hebrews' God!  Who doubts it?  Hath Egypt won any\nhonor in this quarrel with Israel?  Look upon Egypt and learn.  Hath\nthe army of the Pharaoh availed him aught against these afflictions?\nRemember the polluted waters, the pests, the thunders, the darkness,\nthe angel of death and tell me.  'Vengeance?'  Vengeance upon a God who\nhath blasted a nation with His breath?  Chastisement of a people whose\nmurmurs brought down consuming fire upon the land?  And yet, for\nvengeance and chastisement hast thou urged the king to follow after\nIsrael.  I know thee better, Har-hat!  That serviceable wit of thine\nhath not failed thee in an hour.  Thou hast not wearied of life that\nthou courtest destruction by the Hebrews' God.  Never hast thou meant\nto overtake Israel!  Never hast thou thought further to provoke their\nGod!  Rather was it thine intent here, somewhere in the desert, thyself\nto be a plague upon Meneptah and wear his crown after him!\"\n\nConfident were the words, portentous the manner as though proof were\nbehind, astounding the accusation.  One by one the ministers had fallen\naway from Har-hat and placed themselves by the king.  After a long time\nof humiliation for them, the supplanter, the insulter, was overtaken,\nhis villainy uncovered to the eyes of the king.  Kenkenes had justified\nthem, and their triumph had come with a gust of wrath that added\nfurther to their relief.\n\nHotep gazed fixedly at Kenkenes.  Where had this young visionary,\nnew-released from prison, found evidence to impeach this powerful\nfavorite?  How was he fortified?  What would be his next play?  How\nmuch more did he know?  And while Hotep asked himself these things,\ntrembling for Kenkenes, Har-hat put the same questions to himself.  The\nroll of papyrus, with its seals, still in the young man's hands, was\nsignificant.  He folded his arms and forced the issue.\n\n\"Your proof,\" he demanded.\n\n\"Both the hour and need of my proof are past.  Already art thou\nconvicted.\"  Kenkenes indicated the king and the ministers behind him.\nThe fan-bearer followed the motion of the arm and for the first time\nmet the gaze of the angry group.\n\nKenkenes had not ventured blindly, nor dared without deep and shrewd\nthought.  When the artist-soul can feel the fiercer passions it has the\ncapacity to work them out in action.  Kenkenes, having been wronged,\ngrew vengeful, and therefore had it within him to aspire to vengeance.\nHe knew his handicap, but had estimated well his strength.  With\ncalmness and deliberation he had studied conditions, assembled all\ncontingencies and fortified himself against them, gathered hypotheses,\nsummarized his evidence and brought about that which he had planned to\naccomplish--the destruction of Har-hat's rule over Meneptah.\n\nHar-hat was alone.  Before him were all the powers of the land arrayed\nagainst him.  Behind him in Tanis was Seti, the heir, who hated him,\nand the queen who had turned her back upon him.  He had not seen the\nneed of friends during the days of his supremacy over Meneptah.  Now,\nnot all his denials, eloquence, subtleties could establish him again in\nthe faith of the frightened king.  His ministership had crumbled beyond\nreconstruction.  What would avail him, then, to defend himself?  What\nproof had he to offer against this impeachment?  The young man's\nargument met him at every avenue toward which he might turn for escape.\nAt best his future in Egypt would be mere toleration; the worst,\ncondign punishment.\n\nA flame of feeling surged into his face.  With a wide sweep of his arm,\nas though to thrust away pretense, he faced the ministers, all the\ndefiance and audacity of his nature faithfully manifested in his manner.\n\n\"Why wait ye?  Would ye see me cringe?  Would ye hear me deny, protest,\ndeprecate?  Go to! ye glowering churls, I disappoint you!  Flock to the\nking; dandle the royal babe a while!  Endure the stress a little, for\nye will not serve him long.  And thou,\" whirling upon Kenkenes,\n\"dreamest thou I fear this bloody God of Israel, or all the gibbering,\nincense-sniffing, pedestal-cumbering gods of earth?  I will show thee,\nthou ranting rabble spawn!  See which of us hath the yellow-haired\nwanton when I return.  For I go to wrest spoil and fighting men from\nIsrael.  Then, by all the demons of Amenti! then, I say! look to thy\ncrown, thou puny, puling King!\"\n\nWith a bound he broke through the cordon of royal guards, leaped into\nhis chariot, and putting his horses to a gallop, drove at full speed to\nhis place at the head of the army.  There, in an instant, clear and\nlong-drawn, his command to mount rang over the desert.  Front and rear,\nwing and wing, the trumpets took up the call, \"To horse!\"  A second\ncommand in the strong voice, a second winding of the many trumpets, and\nwith a rush of air and jar of earth the great army of the Pharaoh swept\nlike the wind toward the sea.\n\nKenkenes, Menes, Nechutes and those of the royal guard that had started\nin pursuit of the traitor, did well to save themselves from\nannihilation under the hoofs of twenty thousand horse.  Bewildered and\namazed, they were an instant realizing what was taking place.\n\n\"He is running away with the army!\" they said to themselves in a daze.\n\"He is running away with the army!\"  And they knew that not all the\nefforts of the guards and the ministers and the Pharaoh himself would\navail, for the army had received its orders from its great commander\nand no man but he might turn it back.\n\nSo the short-poled chariots, multi-tinted and gorgeous, wheel to wheel,\naxle-deep in a cloud of dust, glittered out across the desert--sixty\nranks, ten abreast.  Far to the left moved the horsemen, the dust of\ntheir rapid passage hiding their galloping mounts up to the stirrup.\nTo the watchers by the king they seemed like an undulant sea of quilted\nhelmets and flying tassels, while the sunlight smote through a level\nand straight-set forest of spears.  They were seasoned veterans, many\nof them heroes of a quarter-century of wars.  They had followed Rameses\nthe Great into Asia and had extended the empire and the prowess of arms\nto the farthest corners of the known world.  They had drunk the sweets\nof unalloyed victory from the blue Nile to the Euphrates and had filled\nEgypt with booty, scented with the airs of Arabia, gorgeous from the\nlooms of India, and heavy with the ivory and gold of Ethiopia.\n\nNow they went in formidable array in pursuit of two millions of slaves\nto dye their axes in unresisting blood, to return, not as victors over\na heroic foe, but as drivers of men, herders of sheep and cattle, and\nladen with inglorious spoil.\n\nBehind them, in regular ranks, beaten by their drivers into an awkward\nrun, came the sumpter-mules, and after them the rumbling carts filled\nwith provision.\n\nMeneptah, raging and weeping, saw his army leave him and gallop in an\naureole of dust toward the Red Sea.\n\nThus it was that \"the Pharaoh drew nigh,\" but came no farther after\nIsrael.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV\n\nTHE WAY TO THE SEA\n\nKenkenes did not remain long in the apathy of amazement and\nhelplessness.  Consternation possessed him the instant he roused\nhimself sufficiently to realize and speculate.  He had saved the king\nand exposed Har-hat, but the accomplishing of this temporary good had\nforced the probable commission of a great evil.  If death in some form\ndid not overtake the fan-bearer he could enrich and strengthen himself\nfrom Israel.  Then, even if Meneptah's army did not continue to follow\nhim, he would be enabled to buy mercenaries and return equipped to do\nbattle with Meneptah, even as he had vowed.  The flower of the military\nwas with him; the Pharaoh was incapable and Egypt demoralized.  The\nsuccess of the traitor seemed assured.  What then of Rachel, of his own\nfather, of the faithful ministers, of all whom Kenkenes had loved or\nbefriended?  The thought filled him with resolution and vigor.\n\n\"If the Lord God of Israel overtake him not,\" he said, returning to the\nking, \"then must I!  For, in my good intent, it seems that I have\nundone thee.  Hotep,\" he continued, taking the scribe's hands, \"let my\nfather know that I died not with the first-born.  Also, thou seest the\ndanger into which the nation hath descended in this hour.  Help thou\nthe king!  I return not.  Farewell.\"\n\nHe kissed the scribe on the lips, and freeing himself from his clinging\nhands, ran through the broken line of the royal guards.\n\nThe army was already a compact cluster in the center of a rolling cloud\nof dust to the south.\n\nWhen Nechutes had aroused him before daybreak, the cup-bearer had\nbrought Hotep with him, and while the messenger broke his fast, he had\navailed himself of the scribe's presence to learn many things.  Not the\nsmallest part of his information was the fact that the Pharaoh's scouts\nhad located Israel encamped on a sedgy plain at the base of a great\nhill on the northern-most arm of the Red Sea.  Meneptah's army had\nmarched twenty-five miles due south of Pithom and pitched its tents for\nthe night.  It was twenty-five miles from that point to Baal-Zephon or\nthe hill before which Israel had camped.  The fugitives had chosen the\nsmoothest path for travel, keeping along the Bitter Lakes that their\ncattle might feed.  Their track led in a southeasterly direction.\n\nBut Har-hat, making off with the army, had struck due south.  He had\nchosen this line for more than one advantage it offered.  The Arabian\ndesert approached the sea in a series of plateaux or steps.  The most\nwesterly was surmounted by a ridge of high hills, higher probably than\nany other chain within the boundaries of Egypt.  The most easterly\noverlooked the sea-beach and was originally, it may be, the old sea\nmargin.  At points the table-land advanced within sight of the water;\nat other localities an intervening space of several miles lay between\nit and the sea.  The summit was flat, at least smooth enough for the\npassage of horsemen, and at all times it was a good field for strategic\nmanoeuverings by an army arrayed against anything which might be on the\nbeach below.\n\nIf Meneptah's scouts had reported truly, Israel had behind it a hill,\neast of it the sea.  West of it the army would approach.  South only\ncould it flee, into a torrid, arid, uninhabited desert.\n\nThe slaves were entrapped.  The pursuer had but to follow the pursued\nin the only open direction, and overtake the starving, thirsting\nmultitude at last.  But from Har-hat's movement he had meant to\ncontinue along this plateau, out of sight of Israel, until he had\nposted part of his army in the way of escape to the south.  Kenkenes\nreached this conclusion without much pondering.  He had his own\nmanoeuverings in mind.  Of the captain of Israel, Prince Mesu, he would\ndiscover, first, if the Lord God had prepared him against Har-hat.\nThis grave question answered to the repose of his mind concerning the\nwelfare of Israel, the path of his next duty would be clearly laid for\nhim.  He would join the army and take the life of the fan-bearer, for\nthe sake of all he loved, and Egypt.  In the course of the day's events\nhis motive had been exalted from the personal desire for revenge to the\nhigh intent of a patriot.  He felt most confident that he would forfeit\nhis own life in the act.\n\nNot an instant did he hesitate.\n\nAhead of him was the narrow bed of a miniature torrent which rolled out\nof the desert during the infrequent rains.  Now it was dry, packed\nhard, free of all obstructions except the great boulders, and led in a\ncomparatively straight line toward the sea.  It was an ideal stretch\nfor running.\n\nHe summoned all his forces, gathering, in a mighty mental effort, all\nthat depended on his speed, and took the path with a leap.  The dazed\nking and his ministers saw him with whom they had that moment talked\nstretch a vast and ever-widening breach between them with a bat-like\nswoop, and while they watched he was swallowed up in distance.\n\nThe bed of the torrent served him for the first few miles.  Then it\nturned abruptly toward the Bitter Lakes.  He left it and entered the\nrougher country.  Thereafter no great bursts of speed were possible,\nbecause the runner had to pick his way.  He ran, not with a steady\npace, each stride equal to the preceding, but with bounds, aside and\nforward, dimly calculating the safety of the footfall.\n\nSuddenly a column of sand rose under his feet, and he dashed through\nit.  Blinded and choking, he cleared his eyes, caught his breath and\nran on.  A gust of wind, like a breath of flame, met him from the east\nand passed.  Then he realized that the atmosphere had thickened, as if\nan opaque cloud of heat had enveloped the earth.  He glanced at the sky\nand saw that it was strewn with fragmentary clouds, but a little south\nand east of him was the pillar, unmoving and gilded royally.\n\nThere was storm in the air.\n\nFinally the region began to grow level, proving the proximity to the\nsea.  In another moment he came upon the old sea bed.  It was sandy,\nsedge-grown, with here and there a palm, and tremendously trampled.\n\nIsrael had passed this way.\n\nThe clash and ring of meeting metal fell on his ear.  He looked and saw\nahead of him two men fighting with a third.  Three horses with empty\nsaddles nervously watched the fray.\n\nThe single combatant was a soldier in the uniform of a common fighting\nman.  One of the pair was a tall Nubian in a striped tunic; the other\nwas an Egyptian, short, fat, purple of countenance--Unas!\n\nWith a furious exclamation, Kenkenes slackened his pace only long\nenough to undo the falchion at his side and rushed to the fight.  It\ndid not matter to him who the soldier was or what his cause.  The fact\nthat he was fighting the emissaries of Har-hat was sufficient\nindorsement of the lone soldier.  But even as he sprang forward, Unas\nsank on the sand, moved convulsively once or twice and lay still.\n\nThe soldier staggered back from the second servitor and fell.  The\nNubian, standing over him, swung his heavy weapon aloft, but Kenkenes\nthrust his falchion over the fallen man and caught the blow, as it\ndescended, upon the broad back of the blade.\n\n\"Set receive your cursed soul,\" the Nubian snarled.  Kenkenes leaped\nacross the prostrate soldier, and simultaneously the weapons went up,\ndescended and clashed.  Then followed a wild and fearful battle.\n\nThe Egyptian falchion was nothing more than a sword-shaped ax.\nTherefore, these were not tongues of steel which would whip their\nsupple length one across the other and fill the air with the lightning\nof their play and the devilish beauty of their music.  The vanquished\nwould not taste the nice death of a spitted heart.  There was yet the\nmethod of the stone-ax warriors in this battle, and he who fell would\nbe a fearful thing to see.\n\nPerhaps it was because Kenkenes was stronger and more agile; perhaps he\nremembered Deborah at that moment, or perhaps he was simply a better\nfighter.  Whatever the cause his blade went up and descended at last,\nbefore the Nubian could parry, and the second servitor of Har-hat fell\non his face and died.\n\nChilled by the instant sobering, which follows the taking of life, the\nyoung man sickened and whirled away from the quivering flesh.  Plunging\nhis falchion in the sand to hide its stain, he went back to the fallen\nsoldier.\n\nHe knew by the look on the gray face, by the dark pool that had grown\nbeside him, that the warrior had fought his last fight.  Kenkenes\nraised the man's head, and heard these words, faintly spoken:\n\n\"He sent them in pursuit.  I knew he meant to do it, but I could not\nget near to kill him.  So I followed them.  But thou art her lover; do\nthou protect her now.\"\n\n\"Her!  Rachel?\" Kenkenes cried.  \"Who art thou?\"\n\n\"Atsu, once her taskmaster, always her--\" the voice died away.\n\n\"Where is she?\" Kenkenes implored.  \"In the name of thy gods, go not\nyet!  Where is she?\"\n\nThe lips parted in answer, but no sound came.  The arm went up as if to\npoint, but it fell limp without indicating direction, and with a sigh\nthe soldier turned his face away.\n\nSobbing, wild with anxiety and grief, Kenkenes shook the inert body,\npleading frantically for some sign to guide him to Rachel.  But there\nwas no response, for the dead speak not out of Amenti.\n\nAt last Kenkenes laid the body down and stood up.  It had come to him\nvery plainly that, but for Atsu, already these dead servitors would\nhave been beyond overtaking in pursuit of his love.  Though a worshiper\nof Israel's God, Kenkenes was still Egyptian in his instincts.  The man\nwho had died to save Rachel he could not bury uncoffined in a grave of\nsand, where the natural processes of dissolution would destroy him\nutterly.  His and Rachel's debts to Atsu were great, and the demand was\nmade upon him now to discharge all that was possible in the one act of\ncaring for the dead soldier's remains.  Kenkenes could not bear the\nbody back to the group he had left about the king, for he had a mission\nwhich concerned all the living who were dear to him.  Furthermore the\nsky was threatening, the desert was a terrible place during high winds,\nand he dared not delay.\n\nSuddenly a thought struck him.  Travelers and sea-faring men had told\nhim that there were settlements along the Red Sea.  Might he not go\nforward, on his way after Israel, till he found one of these?\n\nHe led the largest horse past the dead servitors, and persuading it to\nstand, lifted the body of Atsu upon its back.  With difficulty he\nmounted, and supporting the limp burden with one arm, turned again\ntoward the southeast.\n\nAs he went forward, Kenkenes meditated on the signs of this recent and\ntragic event.  He had searched throughout the length and breadth of\nGoshen for Rachel and none had seen her or heard of her since she had\nfled from Har-hat into the desert, eight months before he had seen her\nlast.  Israel was more ignorant of the whereabouts of Rachel than he.\nHe could not tell whether Har-hat knew where she was, nor could he\nguess from the position of the fighters in which direction the servants\nhad meant to ride.  The tracks of their horses were not to be\ndiscovered in the great trampled roadway Israel had made.\n\nOf this thing Kenkenes was sure.  If Rachel were with Israel she had\njoined it after he had left Goshen.  In that case he was going to her,\nto ask after her safety, when he inquired after all Israel.  If she\nwere still in Egypt he would stop Har-hat's search for ever.  This\nrecollection added to his determination and intensified his zeal.\n\nAt the beginning of the great fields of sea-grass he came upon a little\nhamlet.  It was a considerable distance inland, and the chief industry\nof the people could have been only the gathering of sedge for hay, or\nthe curing of herb and root for medicines.  Some of the villagers were\nin sight but the most of them were out in the direction of the lakes,\nlaboring in the marsh grass.\n\nIn the course of the past year's events Kenkenes had learned to be a\ncautious and skilful fugitive.  He did not care to be caught and taxed\nwith the death of the man whose body he bore.  The village shrine was\nthe structure nearest to him.  It was built of sun-dried brick, with\nthree walls, the fourth side open to the sunrise.  Kenkenes dismounted\nand reconnoitered.  The shrine was empty, and none of the villagers was\nnear.\n\nHe lifted the dead man from the horse and bore the body into the\nsanctuary.  Before the image of Athor was a long table overlaid with a\nslab of red sandstone.  Here the offerings were left and here Kenkenes\nlaid Atsu, a true sacrifice to the love deity.  Reverently the young\nman closed the eyes and straightened the chilling limbs.  Going into\nhis patrimony of jewels sewn in his belt, he took an emerald, and\nputting it in the hands, crossed them above the breast.  Then he laid\nhis mantle over the bier.\n\nAt the threshold he found a soft stone and with that he wrote upon the\nhead of the long table the name of the dead man, and Mendes, his native\ncity.  Under this he wrote further to the villagers, charging them, in\nthe name of the goddess, to care for the body reverently and return it\nto the tomb of Atsu's fathers.  Having made note of the emerald as\nremuneration for their labors, he completed the inscription without\nsignature.\n\nThus he insured the safety and preservation of the bones of Atsu, and\nin the eye of the average Egyptian he had served the soldier well.  But\nKenkenes was not satisfied.\n\nAs he left the shrine he muttered with trembling lips:\n\n\"Bless him!  The fate is not kind which yields to such goodness no\nreward save gratitude.  There must be, because of the great God's\njustness, some especial blessing laid up for Atsu.\"\n\nIn the time he had spent in the sanctuary the atmosphere had grown hazy\nand the sun shone obscurely.  To the east were tumbled and darkening\nmasses, which gathered even as he looked and joined till they stretched\nin a vast and unillumined sweep about the horizon.  The wind had died\nand the heat bathed him in perspiration.\n\nOnce again his eyes sought the pillar and found it above him, still\nsomewhat to the east, yet in form unchanged, in hue undimmed.\nSomething within him associated the column of cloud with Israel and\nIsrael's God.\n\nHe went to his horse and found him terrified and unmanageable.  After\nvain efforts to soothe the creature, he walked away a little space,\nclasping his hands.\n\n\"O Thou mysterious God!  By these tokens Thy hand is upon the earth and\nupon the heavens.  Even as Thou hast shielded me thus far, withdraw not\nThy sheltering hand from about me, Thy worshiper, in this, Thy latest\nhour of mystery.\"\n\nHe skirted the village, now filling with frightened peasants, and took\nthe path of Israel.\n\nIt led in a southeasterly direction toward a far-off hill, barely\noutlined through the haze of the distance.  Meanwhile the darkness\nsettled and over the sea the somber bastion of cloud heaved its sooty\nbulk up the sky.  The air stagnated and the whole desert was soundless.\n\nA round and tumbled mass, blue-black but attended by a copper-colored\nrack, detached itself from a shelf-like stratum of cloud, and\nelongating, seemed to descend to the surface of the sea.  Daylight went\nout instantly and a prolonged moan came from the distant east.\nBlinding flashes of lightning illuminated the whirling mass and almost\nabsolute darkness fell after each bolt.  Out of the inky midnight\ntoward the east came an ever-increasing sound of a maddened sea,\ngathering in volume and fury and menace.  Kenkenes flung himself on his\nface and waited.\n\nHe did not have long to wait.\n\nWith a noise of mighty rending, reinforced by a continuous roll of\nsavage thunder, the storm struck.  A spinning cone of wind caught a\ngreat expanse of sand, and lifting the loose covering, carried a huge\ntwisting column inland--death and entombment for any living thing it\nmet.  With it went a great blast of spray, stones, sea-weed, masses of\nsedge uprooted bodily, much wreckage, palm trees, small huts which went\nto pieces as they were carried along, wild and domestic animals,\nanything and everything that lay in the path of the storm.\n\nThe rotatory movement passed with the first whirl, but a hurricane,\nblowing with overcoming velocity, pressed like a wall against anything\nthat strove to face it.  Its hoarse raving filled Kenkenes' ears with\ntitanic sound.  The breath was snatched from his nostrils; his eyelids,\ntightly closed, were stung with sharply driven sand.  Though he\nstruggled to his feet and attempted to proceed, he staggered and\nwandered and was prone to turn away from the solid breast of the mighty\nblast.  He could not hope to make headway blinded, yet he dared not\nlift his face to the sand.  He could make a shelter over his eyes that\nhe might watch his feet, but he could not discover path and direction\nin this manner.\n\nThe day was far advanced, and already the army had outstripped him.\nMight not Har-hat at this hour be descending with his veterans,\nseasoned against the simoons of Arabia, upon Israel, demoralized in the\nstorm?\n\nDesperate, the young man dropped his hands and flung up his head.\n\nHe was standing in a soft light, very faintly diffused about him but\nnarrowing ahead of him, brightening, as it contracted, into almost\ndaytime brilliance to the south.  The illuminated strip was not wide;\nthe plateau to the west was dark; the farther east likewise\nstorm-obscured.  Taking courage, he raised his eyes for an instant.\nThe drifting sand would not permit a longer contemplation, but in that\nfleeting glimpse he discovered the source of the supernatural radiance.\nThe pillar was tinged like a cloud in the sunset, with a mellow and\nbenign fire.\n\nKenkenes did not marvel and was not perplexed.  The miracles no longer\namazed him, but he had not become indifferent or unthankful.  Each\nforward step he took was a declaration of faith; the thrill of relief\nin his veins, a psalm of thanksgiving.  The stones were as many and as\nsharp, the way as untender, and the mighty tempest strove against him\nas powerfully, but he followed the ray, trusting it implicitly.\n\nNight fell unnoticed for it merged with the supernatural darkness of\nthe day.\n\nAt the summit of the slope which led down to the water's edge, he\npaused.  Below him was a gentle declivity ending to the south in\ndarkness.  There was not a glimmer of radiance on the sea.  Far to the\neast could be heard the sound of infuriated surges, storming the rocks,\nbut dense darkness shrouded all the distance.  Only the beach directly\nunder him was alight.  The shadows cast were blacker than daylight\nshadows, and the radiance had a touch of gold, which gilded everything\nbeneath it.  The poorest object was enriched, the gaudiest subdued.\n\nHad the number of Israel been ten thousand or even a hundred thousand,\nKenkenes might have had some conception of the multitude.  The millions\nmassed below him on the sand were not to be looked on except as a vast\nunit.\n\nThe tribes were divided, the herds were collected at the rear or inland\nside, and the lepers were isolated, but no order in detail was\npossible.  Tents were down, goods were being gathered, and much\ncommotion was apparent.  Even at a distance Kenkenes could see that\nconsternation and dismay were rife among Israel.  The whole valley was\nmurmurous with subdued outcry, and a multitudinous lowing and bleating\nof the herds swept up, blown wildly by the hurricane.\n\nThe senses, too, are limited in their grasp, even as the brain has\nbounds upon its conception.  The dimensions, movement and sound of the\nmultitude over-taxed the eye and ear.\n\nWas it the storm or the army that had frightened them?\n\nSlipping and sliding in his haste, he descended the slope without care\nfor the sound he made.  The hillocks and hollows that interposed\nirritated him.  His impatience made him forget his great weariness.\nIsrael's helpless ones to the sword, Israel's treasure open to the\nenrichment of a traitor, Israel's fighting-men driven to rally to his\nstandard--Rachel's people, to be mastered by Har-hat!\n\nGreat was his intent and its scope, and how cheaply attained if it cost\nbut two lives--his enemy's and his own!  How much depended upon him!\nHis enthusiasm and zeal put out of his sight all his young reluctance\nto surrender life and the world.  He could have explained, truthfully,\nfrom his own feelings, what it is that enables men to suffer an eager\nmartyrdom.\n\nTwo Hebrews outside the limits of the camp halted him.\n\n\"I bring tidings to your captain,\" he explained.  The answer was swept\nfrom the speaker's lips and carried astray by the wind, but he caught\nthese words.\n\n\"Thou art an Egyptian.  Thy kind hath no friendship for Israel.\"\n\n\"I am of Egypt, but I am one with you in faith.  Conduct me to the\nprince, I pray you.\"\n\n\"Take him,\" said one to the other.  \"He is but one.\"\n\nThe Hebrew, thus addressed, motioned Kenkenes to follow him, and turned\ntoward the encampment.\n\nThey passed through a lane between two tribes.  Kenkenes guessed,\nlooking first upon one and then the other, that there were one hundred\nthousand in the two.  Strip a city of her plan and shape, her houses,\nher pleasures and commerce; leave only her people, their smallest\npossessions, and all their fears; beset such a city with an army on\nthree sides, the sea on the fourth and a furious hurricane over\nall--and in such state and of such appearance were these two tribes.\n\nKenkenes fortified himself and resisted with all his might the\ncontagious panic that seemed about to attack him.  As well as he might,\nhe concentrated his mind upon other things.  He noted that the shadows\nwere long like those of afternoon.  Turning his head, he saw that the\npillar stood behind the encampment and that its light was thrown\nforward and downward, not backward and outward.  Very manifestly, the\nbenefits of the miracle were only for the believers in Jehovah.  The\nmarvel brought into the young man's mind some natural speculation\nconcerning the great miracle-worker to whom his guide was leading him.\nWhat manner of man was he about to look upon,--a sorcerer, a trafficker\nin horrors, a confounder of men?\n\nAhead, particularly illumined by the celestial light, was a group of\nelders--great, grave men, misted in the flying fleeces of their own\nbeards.  They bent firmly against the blast and the broad streaming of\ntheir ample drapings added much to the idea of supernatural power and\nresistance they inspired.\n\nThe Hebrew leading Kenkenes slackened his step as if hesitating to\napproach so venerable a council, when suddenly the group separated,\nrevealing a majestic man about whom it had been clustered.\n\nAfter a word in his own tongue, delivered with bent head and\ndeferential attitude, the Hebrew stood aside.\n\nKenkenes prepared to meet a prince of Egypt, whatever the personality\nof the Israelite.  He dropped on one knee, bent his head and extended\nhis hand with the palm toward Moses.  The great man took the fingers\nand bade the young Egyptian arise.  Forty years a courtier, forty years\na shepherd, but the graces of the one had not been forgotten in the\nsimplicities of the other.  When Kenkenes gained his feet, lo! he faced\nthe wondrous stranger he had seen in the tomb of the Incomparable\nPharaoh.\n\nAt a sign from Moses Kenkenes came near to him, that the howl of the\ntempest and the turmoil of Israel might not drown their voices.\n\n\"Thou art weary, my son,\" the Israelite said, glancing at the tired\nface and dusty raiment.  \"Hast thou come from afar?\"\n\n\"From Goshen to Tanis, and hither, O Prince.\"\n\n\"Afoot?\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"Thou hast journeyed farther than Israel, and Israel is most weary.  I\ntrust thy journey is done.\"\n\nAnd this was the confounder of Egypt, the vicar of God--this kindly\nnoble!\n\n\"Not yet, O Prince; but its dearest mission endeth here.  I come of the\nblood of the oppressors, but I am full of pity for thy people's wrongs.\nKnowest thou that the Egyptians pursue thee?  Is thy hand made strong\nwith resource?  Hath the Lord God prepared thee against them?\"\n\n\"From whom art thou sent?\" the Israelite asked pointedly.\n\n\"I am come of mine own accord.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\"\n\n\"Because I am one with Israel in faith.\"\n\nThe great Lawgiver surveyed him in silence for a moment, but the\npenetrative brilliance in his eyes softened.\n\n\"Wast thou taught?\" he asked at last.\n\n\"In casting away the idols, nay; in finding the true God, I was.\"\n\nIn the pause that followed, Israel lifted up its voice, and to Kenkenes\nit seemed that the people besought their great captain, urgingly and\nchidingly.  The Lawgiver listened for a little space.  His gaze was\nabsent, the lines of his face were sad.  Something in his attitude\nseemed to say, \"What profiteth all Thy care, O Lord?  Behold Thy\nchosen--these men of little faith!\"\n\nThen, as if some thought of the young proselyte, the Egyptian, arose in\ncontrast, his eyes came back to Kenkenes again.\n\n\"Thou hast filled me with gladness, my son,\" he said simply.\n\nKenkenes bowed his head and made no answer.  Presently the Israelite\nspoke to the panic-stricken people nearest to him.  In the tone and the\nwords he used there was a world of paternal kindliness--a composite of\nconfidence, reassurance, and implied protection, that should have\nsoothed.\n\n\"Fear ye not; stand still and see the salvation of the Lord.  For the\nEgyptians ye have seen this day, ye shall see again no more for ever.\"\n\nAt the words, Kenkenes lifted his head quickly.  The Hebrew had\nanswered his question, but how enigmatically!  Was Israel to escape, or\nHar-hat to be destroyed?  In either case, the young man wondered\nconcerning himself.  Again the eyes of the Lawgiver returned to him, as\nif the sight of the young Egyptian was grateful to him.\n\n\"Abide with us,\" he said.  \"Saith not thy faith, 'Fear not; the Lord\nshall fight for thee?'\"\n\nKenkenes' face wore a startled expression; how had the Israelite\ndivined his purpose?  \"Saith not thy faith?\"  Faith?  He confessed\nfaith, but faith had not spoken that thing to him.  Slowly and little\nby little it began to manifest itself to him, that he had wavered in\nhis trust; that the purpose of his visit to Israel had questioned the\nfidelity of his God's care; that so surely had he doubted, he had\ndefied danger and fought with death to ask after the intent of the\nLord; that he had meant to perform the duty which the Lord had left\nundone.  The realization came with a rush of shame.  In the asking he\nhad betrayed his wavering, and Moses had tactfully told him of it.  A\nsurge of color swept over his face.\n\n\"Thou hast recalled my trust to me, my Prince,\" he said in a lowered\ntone.  \"Till now, I knew not that it had failed me.  But remember thou,\nit was my love for Israel--O, and my love for mine own--that made me\nfear.  Forgive me, I pray thee.\"\n\nThe Lawgiver laid his hand on the young man's shoulder but did not\nanswer at once.  The growing clamor about them had reached the acme of\ninsistence.  The nearest people pressed through the tribal lines and,\nrushing forward, began to throw themselves on their knees, tumbling in\ncircles about the majestic Hebrew.  Others kept their feet, and with\narms and clenched hands above their heads, shouted vehemently.  Their\ncries were partly in Egyptian, partly in their own tongue, but the\ncause of their terror and the burden of their supplications were the\nsame.  The Egyptians were upon them!  Even the dumb beasts were swept\ninto the panic and the illuminated beach shook with sound.\n\nAfter a little sad contemplation of the clamoring horde about him, the\nLawgiver drew nearer to Kenkenes and said in his ear, because the\ntumult drowned his voice:\n\n\"The Lord will fight for thee; thine enemy can not flee His strong\nhand.  Wait upon Him and behold His triumph.\"\n\nKenkenes bowed his head in acquiescence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV\n\nTHROUGH THE RED SEA\n\nThe voices of the storm found harmonious tones of different pitch and\nswelled in glorious accord from the faintest breath of melody to an\nalmighty blast that stunned the senses with stupendous harmony.  Then\nthe chord seemed to melt and lose itself in the wild dissonances of the\nhurricane.\n\nThe turmoil of Israel began to subside, growing fainter, ceasing among\nthe ranks nearest the sea, failing toward the rear, dying away like a\nsigh up and down the long encampment.  The people that had been on\ntheir knees rose slowly.  The bleating of the flocks quieted into\nstillness.  Commotion ceased and Israel held its breath.\n\nThe Lawgiver had passed from among them, and those that followed him\nwith their eyes saw that he was moving toward the sea, seemingly at the\nvery limit of the outer radiance and still going on.  First to one and\nthen to another, it became apparent that the extent of the illuminated\nbeach was widening.  Hither and thither over the multitude the\nintelligence ran, in whispers or by glances.  Having showed his\nneighbor each looked again.  Ripple-worn sand, shells, barnacle-covered\nrocks, slowly came within the pale of the radiance and Moses moved with\nit.  Eight stalwart Hebrews, bearing a funeral ark, shrouded with a\npurple pall, fringed with gold, emerged from among the people and,\ntaking a place in front of the Lawgiver, walked confidently down the\nsand toward the east.\n\nThe radiance progressed step by step.  Wet rocks entered the glow,\nlines of sea-weed, immense drifts of debris, the brink of a ledge, the\nshadow before it, and then a sandy bottom.\n\nA long line of old men, two abreast, the wind making the picture\nawesome as it tossed their beards and gray robes, followed the\nLawgiver.  After these several litters, borne by young men, proceeded\nin imposing order.\n\nExcept for the raving of the tempest there was no sound in Israel.\n\nA double file of camels with sumptuous housings moved with dignified\nand unhasty tread after the litters.  By this time, the foremost ranks\nof the procession were some distance ahead, the limit of radiance just\nin advance, and lighting with special tenderness the funeral ark.  Here\nwere the bones of that noblest son of Jacob.  Having brought Israel\ninto Egypt, Joseph was leading it forth again.\n\nPools, lighted by the ray, glowed like sheets of gold, darkling here\nand there with shadow; long ledges of rock, bearded with deep-water\ngrowth, sparkled rarely in the light; stretches of sodden sand, colored\nwith salts of the waters, and littered with curious fish-life, lay\nbetween.\n\nWhere was the sea?\n\nAfter the camels followed a score of mules, little and trim in contrast\nto the tall shaggy beasts ahead of them.  They were burden-bearing\nanimals, precious among Israel, for they were laden with the records of\nthe tribes, much treasure in jewels and fine stuffs, incense, writing\nmaterials, and such things as the people would need, and were not to be\nhad from among them, or like to be found in the places to which they\nmight come.  These passed and their drivers with them.\n\nThe next moment, Kenkenes was caught in the center of a rushing wave of\nhumanity.  He fought off the consternation that threatened to seize him\nand tried to care for himself, but a reed on the breast of the Nile at\nflood could not have been more helpless.  Behind Israel were the\nEgyptians, ahead of it miraculous escape; the one impulse of the\nmultitude was flight.  That any remembered his mate or his children,\nhis goods, his treasure or his cattle, was a marvel.\n\nThe foremost ranks, moving in directly behind the leaders, had adopted\ntheir pace.  Furthermore, as the advance-guard, they had a greater\nsense of security, and before them was all the east open for flight.\nNot so with the hindmost; they were near the dreaded place from which\nthe army would descend; ahead of them was a deliberate host; within\nthem, soul-consuming fear and panic.  The rear rushed, the forward\nranks walked, and the center caught between was jammed into a compact\nmass.\n\nNeither halt nor escape was possible.  Press as the hindmost might upon\nthose forward, the pace was slackened, instead of quickened.  The\nadvance grew slower as it extended back through the ranks, for each\nsucceeding line lost a modicum in the length of the step, till at the\nrear they were pushing hard and barely moving.  No wonder they sobbed,\nprayed, panted, surged, swayed and pressed.  How they reviled the\nsnail-like leaders, not knowing that the sturdy pace lagged in the body\nof the multitude.  So they hasted and progressed only inch by inch.\n\nAfter the first moment of battle against the human sea, Kenkenes\nrecognized the futility of resistance and suffered himself to be borne\nalong.  There was no turning back now, had he been so disposed.  He had\nleft behind him his purposes, unaccomplished.\n\nHe had received no explicit promise from Moses, and if he had given ear\nto the doubts of his own reason, he might have been sorely afraid, much\ntroubled for Egypt and all he loved therein.  But he went with the\nmultitude passively, even contentedly; he did not speculate how his God\nwould fight for him; his faith was perfect.\n\nAs for his presence with Israel, no one heeded him.  Sometimes it came\nhis way to be helpful; an old man lost his feet and becoming\npanic-stricken was soothed only when the young Egyptian put a strong\narm about him and held him till his feet touched earth again.  Children\nbecame heavy in the arms of parents and the little Hebrews had no fear\nof the young man who carried them, a while, instead.  But no one\nstopped to take notice that this was an Egyptian, totally unlike those\namong the \"mixed multitude\" that had come to join Israel; nor did any\nwonder what a nobleman of the blood of the oppressors did among the\nfleeing slaves.  Indeed, if the host had any thought beyond the impulse\nof self-preservation, it was only a dim realization that they were\nwalking over a most rocky, oozy and untender road and that the smell of\nthe sea was very strong about them.\n\nIn the early hours of the morning, having become so accustomed to the\nroar of the wind and the sound of the moving multitude, Kenkenes ceased\nto be conscious of it.  Other sounds, which hours before would have\nfailed to reach his ears, became distinct.  The crying of tired\nchildren reached him, and he detected even snatches of talk among the\nranks some distance away from him.  Thus a clamor of noise, secondary\nin force, grew about him.  Above it all, at last, came a sound that\nwould have made him halt if he could.\n\nHe tried to think it one of the many voices of the storm, but the\nsecond time he heard it, he knew what it was.\n\nFar to the rear, a trumpet-call, beautiful and spirited, rose upon the\nair.\n\nThe Egyptian army was in pursuit!\n\nIsrael heard it, and crying aloud in its terror, swept forward, as if\nthe trumpet-call had commanded it.  Kenkenes felt a quickening of\npulse, a momentary tremor, but no more.\n\nHe became conscious finally of a warmth penetrating his sandals.  He\nknew that he had been struggling up a slope for a long time, and now he\nrealized that he was again on the dry, sun-heated sand of the desert.\nThe multitude ceased to crowd, the pressure about him diminished; the\nranks began to widen to his left and right; the leaders halted\naltogether, and though there was still much movement among the body and\nrear of the host, people turned to look upon their neighbors.\n\nThe overhanging cloud parted from the eastern horizon, leaving a strip\nof sky softly lighted by the coming morn.  Without any preliminary\ndiminution of its force, the wind failed entirely.\n\nKenkenes, with many others, looked back and saw that the pillar,\nilluminated, but no longer illuminating, had halted above a solitary\nfigure of seemingly super-human stature in the morning gray, standing\non an eminence, overlooking the sea.\n\nThe arm was uplifted and outstretched, tense and motionless.\n\nFrom his superior height, Kenkenes saw, over the heads of the immense\nconcourse, two lines of foam riding like the wind across the sea-bed\ntoward each other.  Between them was a great body of plunging horses;\noverhead a forest of fluttering banners; and faint from the commotion\ncame shouts and wild notes of trumpets.  Then the two lines of foam\nsmote against each other with a fearful rush and a muffled report like\nthe cannonading of surf.  A mountain of water pitched high into the air\nand collapsed in a vast froth, which spread abroad over the churning,\nwallowing sea.  The falling wind dashed a sheet of spray over the\nsilent host on the eastern shore.  Sharp against the white foam, dark\nobjects and masses sank, arose, and sank again.\n\nAt that moment the sun thrust a broad shaft of light between the\nhorizon and the lifted cloud.\n\nIt discovered only the sea, raving and stormy, and afar to the west a\nmisty, vacant, lifeless line of shore.\n\n\"And the waters returned and covered the chariots and the horsemen, and\nall the host of the Pharaoh that came into the sea after them; there\nremained not so much as one of them.\"\n\nSo perished Har-hat and the flower of the Egyptian army.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI\n\nWHOM THE LADY MIRIAM SENT\n\nOf the ensuing day, Kenkenes had no very distinct memory.  Very fair\nand beautiful, one recollection remained--a recollection of another\nfigure on the eminence, and by the flash of white upthrown arms, and\nthe blowing of a somber cloud of hair, this time it was a woman.  How\nthe morning sun glittered on the shaken timbrel; how the spotless\ndraperies went wild in the wind; how the group of lissome maidens on\nthe sand below wound in and out, in a mazy dance; how the multitude was\nswept into transports of beatification; how the men became prophets and\nthe women, psalmists; how the vast wilderness reverberated with a great\nchant of exultation--all this he remembered as a sublime dream.\n\nThereafter, Israel moved inland and down the coast some distance, for\nthe sea began to surrender its dead.  Of the stir and method of the\nremoval he did not remember, but of the encampment and the reassembling\nof the tribes he recalled several incidents.  He was numb and\nsleep-heavy beyond words, and while leaning, in a semi-conscious\ncondition, against some household goods, he was discovered by the\nowner, who was none other than the friendly son of Judah, his assistant\nin his search for Rachel in Pa-Ramesu.  The man's honest joy over\nKenkenes' safety was good to look upon.  A few words of explanation\nconcerning his very apparent exhaustion were fruitful of some comfort\nto the young Egyptian.  The Hebrew's wife had a motherly heart, and the\nweary face of the comely youth touched it.  Therefore, she brought him\nbread and wine and made him a place in the shadow of her\ntent-furnishings where he might sleep till what time the family shelter\ncould be raised.\n\nBut Kenkenes did not rest.  He fell asleep only to dream of Rachel, and\nawoke asking himself why he had abandoned the search for her; why he\nhad left Egypt without her; and why he had not gone to Moses at once\nfor aid to further his seeking through Israel.\n\nHe arose from his place, sick with all the old suspense and heartache.\nHe would begin now to look for Rachel and cease not till he found her\nor died of his weariness.\n\nHe stepped forth directly in the path of a party of women.  He moved\naside to give them room, and glancing at the foremost, recognized her\nimmediately as the Lady Miriam.  She stopped and looked at him.\n\n\"Thou art he who found Jehovah in Egypt?\" she asked.\n\nHe bowed in assent.\n\n\"Thy faith is entire,\" she commented.  \"Also, have I cause to remember\nthee.  Thou didst display a courteous spirit in Tape, a year agone.\"\n\n\"Thou hast repaid me with the flattery of thy remembrance, Lady\nMiriam,\" he replied.\n\n\"Thy speech publishes thee as noble,\" she went on calmly.  \"Thy name?\"\n\n\"Kenkenes, the son of Mentu, the murket.\"\n\nHer lips parted suddenly and her eyes gleamed.\n\n\"See yonder tent,\" she said, indicating a pavilion of new cloth, reared\nnot far from the quarters of Moses.  \"Repair thither and await till I\nsend to thee.\"\n\nWithout pausing for an answer she swept on, her maidens following, damp\nof brow and bright of eye.\n\nKenkenes turned toward the tent.  A Hebrew at the entrance lifted the\nside without a word and signed him to enter.\n\nThe interior was not yet fully furnished.  A rug of Memphian weave\ncovered the sand and a taboret was placed in the center.\n\nPresently the serving-man entered with a laver of sea-water, and an\nIsraelitish robe, fringed and bound at the selvage with blue.  With the\ndespatch and adroitness of one long used to personal service, he\nattended the young Egyptian, and dressed him in the stately garments of\nhis own people.  When his service was complete, he took up the bowl and\ncast-off dress and went forth.\n\nAfter a time he brought in a couch-like divan, dressed it with fringed\nlinen and strewed it with cushions; next, he suspended a cluster of\nlamps from the center-pole; set a tiny inlaid table close to the couch,\nand on the table put a bottle of wine and a beaker; and brought last a\nheap of fine rugs and coverings which he laid in one corner.  The tent\nwas furnished and nobly.  The man bowed before Kenkenes, awaiting the\nEgyptian's further pleasure, but at a sign from the young man, bowed\nagain and retired.\n\nKenkenes went over to the divan and sat down on it, to wait.\n\nPresently some one entered behind him.  He arose and turned.  Before\nhim was the most welcome picture his bereaved eyes could have looked\nupon.  His visitor was all in shimmering white and wore no ornament\nexcept a collar of golden rings.  What need of further adornment when\nshe was mantled and crowned with a glory of golden hair?  Except that\nthe face was marble white and the eyes dark and large with quiet\nsorrow, it was the same divinely beautiful Rachel!\n\nIt may have been that he was beyond the recuperative influence of\nsudden joy, or that the unexpected restoration of his love might have\nswept away his forces had he been in full strength; but whatever the\ncause, Kenkenes sank to his knees and forward into the eager arms flung\nout to receive him.  Her cry of great joy seemed to come to him from\nafar.\n\n\"Kenkenes!  O my love!  Not dead; not dead!\"\n\nThen it was he learned that she had despaired, grieving beyond any\ncomfort, for she had counted him with the first-born of Egypt.  And\neven though thoughts came to him but slowly now, he said to himself:\n\n\"Praise God, I did not think of it, or I had gone distracted with her\ntrouble.\"\n\nHow rich woman-love is in solicitude and ministering resource!  It made\nRachel strong enough to raise him, and having led him back to the\ndivan, gently to lay him down among the cushions.  The wine was at her\nhand, and she filled the beaker, and held it while he drank.  Then she\nkissed him and, hiding her face in his breast, wept soft tears.  And\nthough he held her very close and had in his heart a great longing to\nsoothe her, he could not speak.\n\nAfter a little she spoke.\n\n\"I had not dreamed that there was such artifice in Miriam.  She told me\nof a nobleman that had served God and Israel, and was in need of\ncomfort in his tent.  But she bridled her tongue and governed her\nexpression so cunningly, that I did not dream the hero was mine--mine!\"\n\nThen on a sudden she disengaged herself from his arms and gaining her\nfeet, cried out with her hands over her blushing face:\n\n\"And now, I know why she and Hur--O I know why they came with me, and\nbrought me to the tent!\"\n\n\"Nay, now; may I not guess, also?\" Kenkenes laughed, though a little\npuzzled over her evident confusion.  \"They had a mind to peep and spy\nupon our love-making.  Perchance they are without this instant; come\nhither and let us not disappoint them.\"\n\nShe dropped her hands and looked at him with flaming cheeks and smiling\neyes.  There was more in her look than he could fathom, but he did not\npuzzle longer when she came back to her place and hid her face away\nfrom him.\n\nIt is the love of riper years, that makes the lips of lovers silent.\nBut Kenkenes and Rachel were very young and wholly demonstrative, and\nthey had need of many words to supplement the testimony of caresses.\nThey had much to tell and they left no avowal unmade.\n\nBut at last Kenkenes' voice wearied and Rachel noted it.  So in her\npretty authoritative way, she stroked his lashes down and bade him\nsleep.  When she removed her hands and clasped them above his head, his\neyes did not open.\n\nAs she bent over him, she noted with a great sweep of tenderness how\nyoung he was.  In all her relations with Kenkenes she had seen him in\nthe manliest roles.  She had depended upon him, looked up to him, and\nhad felt secure in his protection.  Now she contemplated a face from\nwhich content had erased the mature lines that care had drawn.  The\ncurve of his lips, the length of the drooping lashes, the roundness of\ncheek, and the softness of throat, were youthful--boyish.  With this\nenlightenment her love for him experienced a transfiguration.  She\nseemed to grow older than he; the maternal element leaped to the fore;\ntheir positions were instantly reversed.  It was hers to care for him!\n\nAfter a long time, his arms relaxed about her, and she undid them and\ndisposed them in easy position.  Lifting the fillet from his brow, she\nsmoothed out the mark it had made and settled the cushions more softly\nunder his head.  From the heap of coverings she took the amplest and\nthe softest and spread it over him.  Remembering that the wind from the\nsea blew shrewdly at night, she laid rugs about the edges of the tent\nwhich fluttered in the breeze and returned again to his side.\n\nAfter another space of rapt contemplation of his unconscious face she\nwent forth and drew the entrance together behind her.\n\nThe next daybreak was the happiest Israel had known in a hundred years.\nEgypt, overthrown and humbled, was behind them; God was with them, and\nCanaan was just ahead--perhaps only beyond the horizon.  Few but would\nhave laughed at the glory of Babylonia, Assyria and the great powers.\n\nFor had it not been promised that out of Israel nations should be made,\nand kings should come?\n\nThe march was to be taken up immediately, and in the cool of the\nmorning the host was ready to advance.\n\nRachel had not permitted herself to be seen until the tent of Miriam\nwas struck.  She knew that Kenkenes was without, waiting for her, and\nwith the delightful inconsistency of maidenhood, she dreaded while she\nlonged to meet her beloved again.  And when the moment arrived she\nslipped across the open space to the camel that was to bear her into\nCanaan, but in the shadow of the faithful creature, Kenkenes overtook\nher and folded her in his arms.\n\n\"A blessing on thee, my sweet!  And I am blest in having thee once\nmore.\"\n\n\"Didst thou sleep well?\" she asked.\n\n\"Most industriously, since I made up what I lost and overlapped a\nlittle.  And yet I was abroad at dawn prowling about thy tent lest thou\nshouldst flee me once again.  Rachel--\" his voice sobered and his face\ngrew serious--\"Rachel, wilt thou wed me this day?\"\n\n\"If it were only 'aye' or 'nay' to be said, I should have said it long\nago,\" she answered with averted eyes, \"but there are many things that\nthou shouldst know, Kenkenes, before thou demandest the answer from me.\"\n\n\"Name them, Rachel,\" he said submissively; \"but let me say this first.\nMine eyes are not mystic but most truthfully can I tell this moment,\nwhich of us twain will rule over my tent.\"\n\n\"And thou art ready for the tent and shepherd life of Israel?\" she\nasked gravely, but before he could answer she went on.\n\n\"Hear me first.  So tender hast thou been of me; so much hast thou\nsacrificed for my sake that it were unkind to bind thee to me in the\nlife-long sacrifice and life-long hardships that I may know.  Thine\nenemy and mine is dead, and Egypt rid of him.  There is much in Egypt\nto prosper thee; there, thy state is high; there, thou hast opportunity\nand wealth.  Israel can offer thee God and me.  Even the faith thou\ncouldst keep in Egypt, so thou wert watchful.  And further, thou art\nthe murket's son, and building takes the place of carving for thee,\nnow.  But, here, O Kenkenes, thou must lay thy chisel down for ever,\nfor the faith of the multitude, so newly weaned from idolatry, is too\nfeeble to be tried with the sight of images.\"\n\nKenkenes heard her with a passive countenance.  She gave him news,\nindeed--facts of a troublous nature, but he held his peace and let her\nproceed.\n\n\"And this, yet further.  Once in that time when I was a slave and thou\nmy master and loved me not--\"\n\nHis dark eyes reproached her.\n\n\"Didst love me, then, of a truth?  But it matters not--and yet\"--coming\ncloser to him, \"it matters much!  In that time ere thou hadst told me\nso, we talked of Canaan, thou and I.  I boasted of it, being but newly\nfilled with it and freshly come from Caleb who taught us.  Then, Israel\nwas enslaved and not yet so vastly helped by Jehovah.  But alas! I have\nseen Israel freed, and attended by its God, and by the tokens of its\nconduct, Israel is far, far from Canaan.  I am of Israel and whosoever\nweds with me, will be of Israel likewise.  It may not be that I shall\nescape my people's sorrows.  Shall I bring them upon thy head, also, my\nKenkenes?\"\n\nAfter a little he answered, sighing.\n\n\"Thou dost not love me, Rachel.\"\n\n\"Kenkenes!\"\n\n\"Aye, I have said.  Thou wouldst send me away from thee, back into\nEgypt.\"\n\n\"O, seest thou not?  I would have thee know thy heart; I would not have\nthee choose blindly; I do but sacrifice myself,\" she cried,\npanic-stricken.\n\n\"And yet, thou wouldst deny me that same delight of sacrifice.  Can I\nnot surrender for thee as well?\"\n\nShe drooped her head and did not answer.\n\n\"Ah! thou speakest of the benefits of Egypt,\" he continued.  \"What were\nEgypt without thee, save a great darkness haunted and vacant?  Besides,\nthere is no Egypt beyond this sea.  She hath risen and crossed with\nIsrael--all her beauty and her glory and her beneficence.  For thou art\nEgypt and shalt be to me all that I loved in Egypt.\"\n\nHe took her hands.\n\n\"Why may I not as justly doubt thy knowledge of thy heart?\" he asked\nsoftly.\n\nSeeing that she surrendered, he persisted no further in his protest.\n\n\"When wilt thou wed me, my love?\"\n\nShe drew back from him a little, though she willingly left her hands\nwhere they were, and Kenkenes, noting the flush on her cheeks, the\npretty gravity of her brow, and the well-known air she assumed when she\ndiscoursed, smiled and said fondly to himself:\n\n\"By the signs, I am to be taught something more.\"\n\n\"Thou knowest, my Kenkenes,\" she began, \"the Hebrews are married\nsimply.  There is feasting and dancing and the bride is taken to the\nhouse of her father-in-law.  Thereafter there is still much feasting,\nbut the wedding ceremony is done at the home-bringing of the bride.\"\n\n\"I hear,\" said Kenkenes when she paused.\n\n\"I am without kindred; thou art here without house.  There can be no\nwedding feast for us, nor dancing nor singing, for Israel is on the\nmarch.\"\n\n\"Of a truth,\" Kenkenes assented.\n\n\"So there is only the essential portion of the ceremony left to us--the\nhome-bringing of the bride.\"\n\n\"It is enough,\" said Kenkenes.\n\n\"Hur and Miriam brought me to thy tent last night.\"\n\nWith his face lighting, Kenkenes drew her to him and put his arm about\nher.\n\n\"So if thou wilt, we shall say--that--from--that moment--\"\n\nHer voice grew lower, her words more unready and failed altogether.\n\n\"From that moment,\" he said eagerly, reassuring her.  \"From that\nmoment--\"\n\n\"From that moment, I have been thy wife!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII\n\nTHE PROMISED LAND\n\nOne sunset, shortly after his marriage, word came to the tent of\nKenkenes that an Amalekite chieftain on his way to Egypt had paused for\nthe night just without the encampment of Israel.\n\n\"Here may be an opportunity to speak with thy father,\" Rachel\nsuggested.  The prospect of talking once again to those he had left\nbehind was one too full of pleasure for the young Egyptian to receive\ncalmly.  Hurriedly he despatched one of his serving men to the\nAmalekite to bid him await a message.  But Rachel called the messenger\nback.\n\n\"Tell the Amalekite that thou comest from an Egyptian noble.  For such\nthy master is, and this chieftain is more willing to take command from\nEgypt than from Israel.\"\n\nThe servant in his enthusiasm and the importance of his mission told\nthe Amalekite that he came from a prince of Egypt.\n\nThe chieftain was a youth who had just succeeded his father over his\npeople and was on his way to Memphis bearing tribute to Meneptah.  To\nthis tributary nation Egypt was remote, splendid and full of glamour.\nThe name was synonymous of the world and all the glories thereof, and\nparticularly had it appealed to the active imagination of this youth.\nHe had seen many Egyptians, but they were naked prisoners laboring in\nthe mines of Sinai, or overseers or scribes or the ancient exile who\nwas governor of the province,--and surely these were not representative\nof the land.\n\nNow he was to get a glance at real Egypt.\n\nIn the early hours of the dawn a follower came to his pallet and told\nhim in awed tones that the prince was without.  Tremulous with\npleasurable trepidation, he went out into the misty daybreak twilight\nof the open.  And there he met an imperial stranger who towered over\nhim as a palm over a shrub.  At a single glance the Amalekite saw that\nthere was a circlet of gold about the brow, that the face was fine and\nthat the garments swept the sands.  All this was significant, but when\nthe stranger delivered him two rolls, one addressed to the chief of the\nroyal scribes of the Pharaoh, the other to the royal murket, and paid\nhim with a jewel, the Amalekite, convinced and satisfied, prostrated\nhimself.\n\nBut we may not know what the youth thought when he found that there\nwere few in all Egypt like this princely stranger.\n\nAfter these writings came, with all fidelity, to the hands of those who\nloved him in Egypt, silence fell between them and Kenkenes.\n\nMeneptah erected no more monuments after the eighth year of his reign,\nfor in that year Mentu, the murket, died.  None could fill his place,\nsince to his name was attached the title \"the Incomparable,\" as\nbefitted the artist of that great Pharaoh, likewise titled, who had so\nloved him and his genius.  Meneptah, in memory of Mentu and his artist\nson who had served his king so well, set up no sculptor nor any murket\nin his place.  It was the one graceful act in the life of the feeble\nking, the one resolution to which he held most tenaciously.\n\nThough Mentu's union with Senci was short, it was most happy, save\nperhaps for the absence of Kenkenes.  But after the letter came from\nthe well-beloved son there was more cheer in the heart of the father.\nKenkenes was not dead, only absent, as he would have been had he lived\nin Tanis or Thebes.  Furthermore, the young man had spoken glowingly\nand at length on the future of Israel and the Promised Land, and Mentu\ntold himself that he might visit Kenkenes one day in that new country.\n\nSince there were no children in their house, Senci and the murket\nspoiled Anubis, and in the eyes of his devoted master the ape had\nearned his soft life.  Shortly after the departure of Kenkenes Mentu\ndiscovered the ape burying something in the sand of the courtyard\nflower-beds.  In spite of the favorite's vigorous protests Mentu\noverturned the tiny heap of earth and discovered therein the\nlapis-lazuli signet.  There was but one explanation of the ape's\npossession of the gem.  He had torn the scarab from about the neck of\nUnas when he flew in his face, the moment the light went out.  After\nhis nature, he kept the jewel because it was bright.\n\nAll these things--the discovery of the signet in the tomb, the safety\nof Kenkenes when all the other first-born had died, and the testimony\nof the miracles to the power of Israel's God--made the good murket\nthink deeply.  Indeed, all Egypt thought deeply after the Exodus of\nIsrael, and to such extremes was this sober thinking carried that\nthrough very fear many added the name of the Hebrews' God to the\nPantheon.  Mentu did not go so far, because he saw the inconsistency in\nsuch procedure, but he shook his head and pondered and was not wholly\nsatisfied with many things in the Osirian creed.\n\nOf the love of Hotep and Masanath something yet remains to be told.  It\nwas common to examine the entire family of a traitor as to their\ncomplicity in his misdeeds, and the option lay with the Pharaoh whether\nor not they should bear some of his punishment.  Har-hat was dead, the\narmy destroyed at his hands.  When the news of the disaster reached\nTanis Meneptah's anger and grief knew no bounds.\n\nAfter Rameses had been interred at Thebes beside his fathers, and the\ncourt had returned to Memphis, the king summoned Masanath, the sole\nrepresentative of the family of Har-hat, to give reason why she should\nnot be accused of complicity in the treason of her father.\n\nMeneptah had taken counsel with none on this step.  Perhaps he had an\ninkling that it would be unpopular; perhaps he thought he was but\nfulfilling the law.  Hotep was at On comforting his family, who mourned\nover Bettis, and most of the other ministers were scattered over Egypt\nlamenting their own dead, and few expected the ungallant act of the\nking.\n\nBut one day, when all the court had reassembled, Masanath came into the\ngreat council chamber.  Alone and dressed in mourning, she seemed so\nlittle and defenseless that Meneptah stirred uncomfortably in his\nthrone.  Slowly she approached the dais and fell on her knees before\nthe king.  The great gathering of courtiers held its breath, wondering\nand pitying.\n\nSuch was the scene upon which Hotep came all unknowing.  At a glance he\nunderstood the situation.  It was too much for his well-bridled spirit.\nWith a cry, full of horror, indignation and compassion, he dropped his\nwriting-case and scroll, and, rushing forward, flung himself on his\nknees beside her, one arm about her, the other extended in supplication\nto the Pharaoh.\n\nMeneptah, who, from the moment of Masanath's entrance into the council\nchamber, had begun to repent his ill-advised act, was glad to be won\nover.  At the end of Hotep's impassioned story he came down from the\ndais, and raising Masanath, kissed her and put her into the young man's\narms.  Supplementing his pardon with command, he ordered his scribe to\nmarry the sad little orphan at once and take her away from the scene of\nher sorrows till Isis restored her in spirits again.\n\nThe alacrity with which this royal command was obeyed proved how\nacceptable it was to the lovers.  By the next sunset they were going by\na slow and sumptuous boat down the broad bosom of the Nile toward the\nsea, but they had no care whether or not they ever reached their\ndestination.\n\nAfter some months spent on the coast, Masanath grew stronger and began\nto live with much appreciation of the joys of existence.  On their\nreturn to Memphis Hotep was made fan-bearer in Har-hat's place, and for\nthe remaining fourteen years of Meneptah's reign practically ruled over\nEgypt.\n\nVastly different, however, was his favoritism from the favoritism of\nHar-hat.  During the wise administration of the young adviser Egypt\nrecovered something of her former glory, lost in the dreadful\nplague-ridden days preceding the Exodus.  The army was reorganized\nfirst, for Ta-user's party began to make demonstrations the hour that\nthe news of the Red Sea disaster reached the Hak-heb.  All public\nbuilding and national extravagance were halted, and the surplus\ntreasure was expended in restocking the fields and granaries and\nrestoring commerce.  Within five years after the Exodus the great check\nEgypt had met in her nineteenth dynasty was not greatly apparent.\n\nSo the land recovered from the plagues, but its ruler never.  The death\nof Rameses lay like a heavy sin and torturing remorse on his\nconscience.  He wept till the feeble eyes lost their sight, but not\ntheir susceptibility to tears.  At last, succumbing to melancholia, he\nbecame a child, for whom Hotep reigned and for whom the queen cared\nwith touching devotion.\n\nThe story of Seti is history.  It is needless to say that his rough\nusage at the hands of Ta-user awakened him, but it was long before he\nfound courage to return to Io, the sweetheart of his childhood.  Yet,\nwhen he did, after the manner of her kind, she wept over him and took\nhim back without a word of reproach.  So the fair-faced sister of Hotep\ncame to be queen over Egypt and took another title with Nefer-ari as\nprefix, and the quaint Danaid name, Io, was lost to all lips but Seti's\nand Hotep's.\n\nAfter Seti came to the throne he continued Hotep in the advisership and\nprepared to reign happily.  But in a little time the Thebaid, long\ndisaffected, seceded from the federation of Egypt and crowned\nAmon-meses king of Thebes.  Seti gathered his army, marched against the\nrebellious district, put Amon-meses to the sword and reduced the\nThebaid to submission.  Then he returned to Memphis for another space\nof prosperity.\n\nAt the end of a year Ta-user and Siptah, after much browbeating of the\nHak-heb, raised funds sufficient to purchase mercenaries.  Then, with\nTa-user at the head in barbaric splendor, they descended on Memphis.\n\nThe course Seti pursued has puzzled historians.  He gathered up his\nfamily, his court, his treasure, and without so much as lifting a\nspear, fled into Ethiopia.  After some time Ta-user sent to him and\nconferred upon him the title of the Prince of Cush.\n\nTo the friends of the young Pharaoh it was patent that he feared to\nmeet Ta-user.  Having succumbed once to her influence, to his undoing\nand the misery of his beloved Io, he dared not come under the\nall-compelling eyes of the sorceress again.  So he surrendered his\ncrown and his country for his soul's sake.\n\nBut fifty years after, Seti's son, the formidable Set-Nekt, returned\ninto Egypt and restored the Rameside house on a basis so solid that\nanother glorious dynasty arose thereon, second only in brilliance to\nthat which had gone out in the anarchy of Siptah and Ta-user's reign.\nThis done, he wreaked personal vengeance upon the usurpers of his\nfather's throne.  He broke open the tomb of Siptah and Ta-user, threw\nout their bodies to the jackals, obliterated the inscriptions, enlarged\nthe crypt, put his own and his father's history on the walls and used\nit for his mausoleum when he died.\n\nAnd this was the deadliest retaliation he could inflict in his father's\nname.\n\nMuch of this Kenkenes learned from the lips of Egyptian merchants whom\nhe met in Canaan, forty years after the Exodus.\n\nKenkenes was a proselyte who had found his God for himself.  He\nbelieved as he drew his breath and as his heart beat, involuntarily and\nwithout any lapse.  Never could a son of Israel have surrendered\nhimself more eagerly to the law.  Its good and its purposes were ever\nbefore his eyes, and his footsteps led in the paths that it lighted.\nThough he saw not the Lord in a burning bush nor talked with Him on\nSinai, he found Him on the lonely uplands of the sheep-ranges and heard\nHim in the voiceless night on the limitless desert.  The young Egyptian\nwas not yet twenty years old at the time of the numbering before Sinai,\nand he entered the Promised Land with Joshua and Caleb.  For verily he\nwalked with God all the days of his life.\n\nIt must not be supposed that there was no serene life nor any happiness\nin the long wandering of forty years.  A generation of oriental adults\npractically dies out in that time.  The passing of the elders of\nIsrael, though it was accomplished by plagues and sendings for\niniquities, was as the passing of the old in the Orient to-day.  The\nencampment was not continually filled with calamity and great\nmourning--far from it.  There were long stretches of peace and plenty,\nextending almost uninterruptedly for years, and those who followed the\nlaw escaped the intervals of catastrophe.\n\nKenkenes was among the chosen people but not of them, partly because he\nwas of the execrated race of the oppressors and partly because the most\nof Israel had nothing in common with the nobleman.  But Moses loved him\nand found joy in his company.  Joshua loved him and had him by his side\nwhen Israel warred.  Caleb and Aaron loved him because he was godly,\nand Miriam was proud of him and was mild in his presence.  He took no\npublic part in the people's affairs, yet who shall say that he was not\nnear when Bezaleel wrought the wondrous angels for the ark?  Who shall\nsay that his purest jewel did not enter the breast-plate of the high\npriest?  There are many names embraced in that general term, \"every\nwise-hearted man among them that wrought the work of the tabernacle.\"\n\nSo when Israel took up the forty years of pasture-hunting in Paran,\nKenkenes made his tent beautiful and pitched it always apart from the\nmultitude, and here he was contented all the days that Israel tarried\nin that place.  Under his care his flocks increased, his cattle\nmultiplied and his camels were not few, and he laid up riches for the\nfour stalwart sons and the golden-haired daughter who were to live\nafter him.\n\nFrom the moment of his union with his beautiful wife, through the long\nyears of semi-isolation that he knew thereafter, he grew closer and\ncloser to Rachel.  She filled all his needs as Israel failed to supply\nthem, and he missed neither friend nor neighbor when she was near.\nRachel knew wherein she was more fortunate than other women and her\ncontent and her devotion were beyond measure.  So Kenkenes and Rachel\nwere lovers all the days of their lives.\n\nIf ever they grew reminiscent there was one name spoken more tenderly\nthan any other--the name of Atsu.  Kenkenes would grow sad of\ncountenance and he would look away, but there was no jealousy in his\nheart for the tears of Rachel weeping over the task-master who died for\nher.\n\nThe collar of golden rings became popular in Israel, and, after many\nmodifications effected by time and fashion, it came at last to be the\ninsignia of the virtuous woman.  For centuries it was worn and no one\nknows when the custom died out.\n\nThe genius of Kenkenes did not die.  His voice enriched with age, and\nthe rocky vales wherein his flocks wandered had melodious echoes\nwhenever he followed the sheep.  But he never used chisel upon stone\nagain.  His sons were artists after him, but they were handicapped\nalso.  And so it continued for many generations until the Temple of\nSolomon was built.  Then, though the plans came from the Lord, and\nartisans were brought from Tyre, it was the descendants of Kenkenes who\nmade the Temple beautiful \"with carved figures of cherubim and palm\ntrees and open flowers, within and without.\"\n\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nAUTHOR'S NOTE\n\nWhen the Chaldeans prostrated themselves before Nebuchadnezzar, they\ncried: \"O King, live forever!\"  When patrician Rome hailed Nero in the\nCircus, the acclaim was: \"Vivat Imperator!\"  When the faithful saluted\nthe Caliph, they said: \"May thy shadow never grow less.\"\n\nHumanity, living in eternal contemplation of the tomb, offers its\nhighest tribute in bespeaking immortality for its great.\n\nBut Egypt did not invoke the gift of deathlessness upon the Pharaoh;\nshe declared it.  He was an Immortal and died not.  Though he more\nnearly justified the confident declaration of his people, he but proved\nthat there is no sublunar immortality, though in Egypt--almost.\n\nThe Pharaoh lived with a triple purpose: the perpetuity of his empire,\nof his dynasty, of his individuality.  He steeped his body in\nindestructibility and wrote his name in adamant.  He employed the\nmanifold means at the command of his era, and whether his monument were\na colossus, a temple or a city, he builded well.\n\nWhile Europe was yet a vast tract of gloomy forests, and morasses, and\nplains, while the stone that was to rear Troy was yet scattered on the\nslopes of Ida, Mena, the first Pharaoh of the first Dynasty, deflected\nthe Nile against the Arabian hills and built Memphis in its bed.  So\nsay the writings that are graven in stone.  If this be true, this story\ndeals with a quaint but efficient civilization that was already three\nthousand years old, fourteen centuries before Christ.\n\nAn effort has been made to conform to the history of the time as it\ncomes down to us in the form of biblical accounts and the writings of\ncontemporaneous chroniclers.  The author has taken liberty with\naccepted history in the age of Meneptah's first-born and in placing\nHebrews in the quarries at Masaarah.  The escape of Kenkenes in the\nPassover is not intended to contradict the biblical statement that not\none of the eldest born was spared.  Rather, it is offered, as an\nhypothesis, that the Angel of Death would have passed over any true\nbeliever in Jehovah, regardless of his nationality.  Furthermore, the\nauthor has given the Greek spelling to some names, the Egyptic to\nothers, the purpose being to present those pronunciations most familiar\nto readers.\n\nFor all facts herein set forth, the author is indebted to a multitude\nof authorities, chiefly to Wilkinson, Birch, Rawlinson, Ebers, and\nErman.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF CHARACTERS AND PLACES\n\nAbydos,--A-by'-dos, city of Upper Egypt and burial-place of Osiris.\n\nAmenti,--A-men'-tee, the realm of Death.\n\nAmon-meses,--A'-mon-mee'-seez, half-brother to Meneptah and hostile to\nhim.\n\nAnubis,--A-niu'-bis, pet ape named after the jackal-headed god.\n\nApepa,--A-pay'-pah, a Hyksos monarch who befriended Joseph.\n\nAsar-Mut,--A-sar-Moot', half-brother to Meneptah and high priest to\nPtah.\n\nAthor,--Ah'-thor, the feminine love-deity.\n\nAtsu,--At'-soo, a noble Egyptian, vice-commander over the works at\nPa-Ramesu, afterwards degraded.\n\nBaal-Zephon,--Bay'-al-Zee'-phon, a hill at the northern end of the Red\nSea.\n\nBast,--Bahst, the cat-headed goddess, patron deity of Bubastis.\n\nBesa,--Bee'-sah, a dwarf-like deity similar to the Roman Cupid.\n\nBettis,--Bet'-tis, older sister to Hotep and Io.\n\nBubastis,--Biu-bast'-is, city in lower Egypt near Goshen.\n\nDeborah,--Deb'-or-ah, an aged woman of Israel, Rachel's attendant.\n\nHak-heb,--Hayk'-heb, a village on the Nile, shipping point for\nNehapehu, fifty miles south of Memphis.\n\nHar-hat,--Hahr'-hat, fan-bearer, or prime minister to the Pharaoh;\nfather of Masanath.\n\nHathors,--Hah'-thorz, seven personifications of Athor, usually seven\ncows, similar to the fates of Roman and Greek mythology.\n\nHotep,--Hoe'-tep, the royal scribe, friend of Kenkenes, brother of\nBettis and Io.\n\nHyksos,--Hick'-soz, the Shepherd Kings.\n\nImhotep,--Eem-hoe'-tep, the physician god.\n\nIpsambul,--Ip-sahm'-bool, a temple cut from living rock.\n\nIo,--Eye'-o, younger sister to Hotep and Bettis, in love with Seti.\n\nIsis,--Eye'-sis, consort to Osiris and goddess of wisdom.\n\nJambres,--Jam'-breez, a priest in disgrace, sometime astrologer to\nRameses II and to Meneptah.\n\nKenkenes,--Ken-ken'-eez, son of Mentu, the murket.\n\nKhem,--Kem, the Egyptian Pan.\n\nKhu-n-Aten,--Khoon-Ah'-ten, Amenhotep IV, a Pharaoh of the eighteenth\ndynasty, who attempted to reform the national faith.\n\nLoi,--Lo'-ee, high-priest to Amen at Karnak.\n\nMa,--Mah, the goddess of truth.\n\nMasaarah,--Mah-saar'-ah, a limestone quarry opposite Memphis.\n\nMasanath,--Ma-sayn'-ath, second daughter to Har-hat, beloved of Hotep.\n\nMeneptah,--Me-nep'-tah, successor to Rameses II, and Pharaoh of the\nExodus.\n\nMenes,--Meen'-eez, captain of the royal guard.\n\nMentu,--Men'-too, the murket or royal architect, father of Kenkenes.\n\nMerenra,--Mer-en'-rah, commander over the works at Pa-Ramesu.\n\nMesu,--May'-soo, Moses, the Law-giver.\n\nMizraim,--Miz'-ray-im, the Hebrew name for Egypt.\n\nMut,--Moot, the mother goddess.\n\nNari,--Nahr'-ee, the handmaiden of Masanath.\n\nNechutes,--Nee-koo'-teez, the royal cup-bearer.\n\nNehapehu,--Nee-hay'-pe-hiu, a fertile pocket in the Libyan desert,\nfifty miles south of Memphis.\n\nNeferari Thermuthis,--Nef-er-ahr'-ee Ther-moo'-this, first consort to\nRameses II and foster mother of Moses.\n\nNomarch,--Nome'-ark, governor of a civil division called a nome.\n\nOn, Heliopolis,--near the site of the modern Cairo.\n\nOsiris,--Oh-sy'-ris, the great god of Egypt, the principle of good, the\ncreator.\n\nPa-Ramesu,--Pay-Ram'-e-soo, a treasure city begun by Rameses II.\n\nParaschites,--Par-a-shy'-teez, embalmers, an unclean class.\n\nPentaur,--Pen'-tor, an Egyptian priest and poet of the time of Rameses\nII.\n\nPepi,--Pay'-pee, servant of Masanath.\n\nPharaoh,--Fay'-roe, title given to the Egyptian monarchs.\n\nPithom,---Py'-thom, a treasure city built by Rameses II.\n\nPtah,--P-tah', the patron deity of Memphis.\n\nPunt,--Poont, Arabia.\n\nRa,--Rah, the sun god, patron deity of On.\n\nRachel,--daughter of Maai of Israel, beloved of Kenkenes.\n\nRameses,--Ram'-e-seez, a popular name for Egyptian kings; the name of\nMeneptah's older son and also the name of Meneptah's father, the\nIncomparable Pharaoh.\n\nRanas,--Rah'-nas, the servant of Snofru.\n\nSema,--See'-mah, an aged servant of Mentu.\n\nSenci,--Sen'-cee, a lady of noble birth, aunt of Hotep and his sisters.\n\nSet,--the god of war and evil.\n\nSeti,--Set'-ee, second son to Meneptah, beloved of Io.\n\nSiptah,--Sip'-tah, son of Amon-meses and claimant to the Egyptian\nthrone.\n\nSnofru,--Sno'-froo, priest of Ra at On.\n\nTahennu,--Tah-hen'-niu, a fair-haired tribe on the Mediterranean, which\nwas exterminated by Seti I.\n\nTa-meri,--Tam'-e-ree, daughter of the nomarch of Memphis and beloved by\nNechutes.\n\nTanis,--Tay'-nis, the Egyptian name for Zoan.\n\nTape,--Tay'-pay, Thebes.\n\nTa-user,--Tay'-oo'-ser, a princess of the realm and beloved of Siptah.\n\nThebaid,--Thee-bay'-id, civil division embracing Thebes and surrounding\ntowns.\n\nThebes,--Theebz, capital of Upper Egypt and largest city in Egypt.\n\nToth,--Tote, the male deity of wisdom and law.\n\nTuat,--Tiu'-ayt, the Egyptian Hades.\n\nUnas,--Yu'nas, servant to Har-hat.\n\nWady Toomilat,--Wah'-dee Toom'-ee-laht, great Rameside road leading\ninto the Orient.\n\nZoan,--Zoe'-an, the capital of the Delta.","title":"The Yoke: A Romance of the Days when the Lord Redeemed the Children of Israel from the Bondage of Egypt","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":157311}