Chapter 34

IT was the month Thoth. In the city of Pi-Bast and its environs the concourse of people had begun, because of heat, to diminish. But the court of Ramses amused itself always, and people talked of what had happened in the amphitheatre.

Courtiers praised the courage of the prince, maladroit men wondered at the strength of Sargon, the priests whispered with important mien that in every case the heir to the throne should not involve himself in bull-fights: for that there were men who were hired, or who, at least, did not possess public veneration.

Either Ramses did not hear these various opinions, or did not consider them. As to the spectacle, two episodes were fixed in his memory: victory over the bull had been snatched from him by the Assyrian, who had also paid court to Kama, and she had received his attentions most willingly.

Since he might not bring the Phoenician priestess to his palace, he sent one day a letter to her in which he declared that he wished to see her, and inquired when she would receive him. Through the same messenger Kama replied that she would wait for him that evening.

Barely had the stars shown themselves, when the prince (with the greatest secrecy, as he thought) slipped out of the palace, and went to the villa. The garden of the temple of Astaroth was almost empty, especially near the house of the priestess. The building was silent, and inside only two tapers were burning.

When the prince knocked timidly, the priestess herself drew the door open. In the dark antechamber she kissed his hand, whispering that she would have died had the raging bull injured him in the arena.

"But now Thou must be at rest, since thy lover saved me," said the prince.

When they entered the lighted chamber, Ramses saw that Kama was weeping.

"What does this mean?" inquired he.

"The heart of my lord has turned from me," said she; "but perhaps justly."

The heir laughed bitterly in answer.

"Then, sacred virgin, Thou art already his mistress, or about to be?"

"Mistress? Never! But I may become the wife of that dreadful Assyrian."

Ramses sprang from his seat.

"Am I dreaming," cried he, "or has Set cast his curse on me? Thou, a priestess, guarding the fire before the altar of Astaroth, thou, who under the threat of death must be a virgin, art Thou going to marry? In truth, Phoenician deceit is worse than people's account of it."

"Hear me, lord," said Kama, wiping her tears away, "and condemn if I deserve it. Sargon wishes to take me as his first wife. According to our laws a priestess may, in very exceptional cases, become a wife, but only if the man is of kingly origin. Sargon is a relative of King Assar."

"And wilt Thou marry him?"

"If the supreme council of Tyrian priests command me, what can I do?" replied she, bursting into tears again.

"And what is Sargon to that council?" asked the prince.

"Very much, perhaps," said Kama, with a sigh. "The Assyrians will take Phoenicia in all likelihood, and Sargon will be its satrap."

"Art Thou demented?" exclaimed the prince.

"I say what I know. In our temple we have begun prayers the second time to avert misfortune from Phoenicia. We had our first prayers before Thou didst come to us."

"Why do ye pray now?"

"Because the Chaldean priest Istubar has just come to Egypt with letters, in which King Assar appoints Sargon his ambassador to conclude a treaty with you about the taking of Phoenicia."

"But I" interrupted the prince.

He wished to say, "know nothing," but he restrained himself, laughed, and answered,

"Kama, I swear to thee, on the honor of my father, that while I live Assyria will not take Phoenicia. Is that enough?"

"Oh, lord, lord!" cried she, falling at his feet.

"Then Thou wilt not become the wife of that rude fellow?"

"Oh," shuddered she, "canst Thou ask such a question?"

"And Thou wilt be mine," whispered the prince.

"Dost Thou wish my death?" asked she, terrified. "Well, if Thou wish it, I am ready."

"I wish thee to live," whispered he, impassioned, "to live, belonging to me."

"That cannot be,"

"But the supreme council of Tyrian priests?"

"They can permit nothing but marriage."

"But Thou wilt enter my house."

"If I enter it not as thy wife, I shall die. But I am ready even not to see to-morrow's sun."

"Be at rest," replied the prince, seriously. "Whoso has my favor will not experience injustice."

Kama knelt before him a second time.

"How can that be?" asked she, clasping her hands.

Ramses was so roused that he had forgotten his position and his duties; he was ready to promise the priestess even marriage. He was restrained from that step, not by judgment, but by some dumb instinct.

"How can this be? How can this be?" whispered Kama, devouring him with her glances and kissing his feet.

The prince raised her, seated her at a distance from him, and said with a smile,

"Thou askest how this can be I will explain immediately. My last teacher, before I reached maturity, was a certain old priest, who knew a multitude of marvelous histories from the lives of gods, kings, priests, even lower officials and laborers.

"This old man, famed for devotion and miracles, did not like women, I know not why; he even dreaded them. Very frequently he described the perversity of women, and once, to show how great the power is which ye wield over men, he told me the following history:

"A certain scribe, young and indigent, who had not an uten in his purse, who had nothing save a barley cake, traveled down from Thebes to Lower Egypt while seeking for employment. Men said that in the north dwelt the richest lords and merchants, and that in case of luck he would find a place in which he might acquire extensive property.

"He walked along the Nile, for he had no coin with which to hire a boat, and he pondered,

"'How improvident are men inheriting a talent or two, or even ten talents! Instead of adding to their wealth by traffic, or by lending at high interest,' thought he, 'these men waste what they have, to no purpose. Had I a drachma, well, one drachma is too little, but had I one talent, or, better, a plot of land, I would increase it yearly, and toward the end of life I should be as wealthy as the wealthiest nomarch.

"'But how begin!' said he, sighing. 'Only fools are favored by the gods; and I am filled with wisdom from my wig to my two naked heels. If in my heart a grain of dullness lurks, it is perhaps my inability to squander, and I should not even know how to set about a work so godless in its object.'

"As the needy scribe was thus musing, he passed a mud hut at which sat some man, neither old nor young, with a very keen glance, which reached to the depth of whatever heart came before him. The scribe, as wise as a stork, thought at once that this must be some divinity; so he bowed down and said to him,

"'I greet thee, worthy master of this splendid mansion. I grieve that I have neither meat nor wine, so as to divide them between us, in sign that I respect thee, and that whatever I own is thy property.'

"This kindness of the scribe was pleasing to Amon, for he it was, in human aspect. He looked at the scribe, and inquired of him,

"'Of what wert Thou thinking while passing along here? for I see wisdom on thy forehead, and I am of those who seize words of truth as partridges pick up wheat kernels.'

"The scribe sighed.

"'I was thinking,' said he, 'of my misery, and of those frivolous rich men who spend their wealth without knowing why or in what manner.'

"'And wouldst Thou not waste wealth?' inquired the god, retaining human semblance.

"'Look at me, lord,' said the scribe. 'I have a tattered rag around my hips, and on the road I have lost my sandals; but my papyrus and reed I bear with me at all times, as I do the heart in my body. Both while rising in the morning and lying down at night, I repeat that wise poverty is far better than foolish riches. If I know how to express myself in two kinds of writing and to solve the most complicated problems, if I know all plants and every beast beneath the sky, Thou mayst judge whether I, the master of such lore, am capable of wasting property.'

"The god pondered awhile, and continued,

"'Thy speech flows as vigorously as the Nile at Memphis; but if Thou art so wise, indeed, write for me the name of Amon in two manners.'

"The scribe took his reed and brush, and in no long time he wrote the name Amon in two manners on the door of the hut, and so clearly that even dumb creatures would have stopped to give Lord Amon homage.

"The god was satisfied, and answered,

"'If Thou art as skilled in reckoning as in writing, reckon for me the following problem: If they give me four hen eggs for one partridge, how many hen eggs should they give me for seven partridges?'

"The scribe gathered pebbles, placed them in various rows, and before the sun had set, he answered that they should give twenty-eight eggs for seven partridges.

"The almighty Amon smiled when be saw before him a sage of such uncommon proportions, and answered,

"'I recognize that Thou hast spoken truth concerning thy wisdom. If Thou shalt appear equally enduring in virtue I will so arrange that Thou shalt be happy to the end of life, and after death thy sons shall place thy shade in a beautiful tomb. But now tell me: what wealth dost Thou wish, wealth which Thou wouldst not merely refrain from wasting, but wouldst increase?'

"The scribe fell to the feet of the generous deity, and answered,

"'If I had even this hut and three measures of land, I should be wealthy.'

"'Well,' said the god, 'but first look around and see if it would suffice thee.'

"He led him into the hut, and said,

"'Thou hast four caps and skirts, two mantles for bad weather, and two pairs of sandals. Here is a fire, here a bench on which Thou mayst sleep, a mortar for crushing wheat, and a pan for dough.'

"'But what is this?' asked the scribe, pointing to a certain figure covered with linen.

"'That is one thing which Thou must not touch; if Thou do, Thou wilt lose all thy property.'

"'Ai!' cried the scribe. 'That may remain a thousand years there; I will not trouble it. With permission of thy honor, what estate is that over there?' and he bent through the hut window.

"'Thou hast spoken wisely,' said Amon, 'for that is an estate, and even a fine one. It is composed of fifty measures of land. There is a spacious house on it, some tens of cattle, and ten slaves belong to the establishment. If Thou prefer that estate.'

"The scribe fell at the feet of the deity.

"'Is there,' inquired he, 'a man under the sun who instead of a barley cake would not prefer a loaf of wheaten bread?'

"When he heard this, Amon repeated a formula, and that moment both were in the mansion.

"'Here Thou hast,' said the god, 'a carved bed, five tables, and ten armchairs; Thou hast embroidered clothing, Thou hast pitchers, and glass bottles for wine, a lamp for olive oil, and a litter.'

"'And what is this?' asked the scribe, pointing to a figure robed in muslin and standing in a corner.

"'Thou must not touch that or Thou wilt lose all thy property.'

"'Were I to live ten thousand years I would not touch it. For, after wisdom, I consider wealth the highest blessing.'

"'But what do I see?' inquired he after a while, pointing to an immense palace in a garden.

"'Over there is a princely estate,' replied the god. 'That is a palace, five hundred measures of land, one hundred slaves, and two hundred head of cattle. That is a grand property: but if Thou think thy wisdom sufficient to manage it.'

"The scribe fell again at the feet of Amon, and covered himself with tears of delight.

"'O lord,' said he, 'is there on earth a mad man who instead of a goblet of beer would not take a cask of wine?'

"'Thy words are worthy of the sage who can make the most difficult reckonings,' said Amon.

"He pronounced the mighty words of the formula; the god and the scribe found themselves in the palace.

"'Here Thou hast,' said the kind god, 'a dining-hall; in it gold and gilded curtains, and armchairs, also tables inlaid with woods of various colors. In the lower story is a kitchen for five cooks; a storehouse where Thou wilt find all kinds of meat, fish, bread; finally, a cellar with perfect wines in it. Thou hast a bedchamber with a movable roof, with which thy slaves will cool thee while Thou art sleeping. I turn attention to the bed, which is made of cedar wood, and rests on four lion legs cast from bronze skillfully. Thou hast a wardrobe filled with linen and woolen garments; in caskets Thou wilt find rings, chains, and bracelets.'

"But what is this?" asked the scribe, pointing to a figure covered with a veil embroidered in gold and purple.

"'Thou must guard thyself from this most carefully,' warned the god. 'If Thou touch this, thy immense estate will vanish. And there are few such estates in Egypt, I assure thee. Moreover, I must say that in the treasury here there are ten talents in gold and precious stones in addition.'"

"My sovereign," cried the scribe, "permit that the first place in this palace be held by thy sacred statue, before which I will burn incense three times daily."

"'But avoid that,' replied Amon, pointing to the veiled figure.

"'Should I lose my wisdom, and be worse than a wild boar, for which wine is no better than swill,' said the scribe; 'let that veiled figure do penance here for a hundred millenniums, I will not touch it.'

"'Remember that if Thou do Thou wilt lose all Thou hast,' cried the god; and he vanished.

"The scribe, now made happy, walked up and down through his palace and looked out through the windows. He examined the treasury and tried the gold in his hands; it was heavy. He looked at the precious stones; they were genuine. He commanded to serve him with food; in rushed slaves immediately, bathed him, shaved him, arrayed him in fine garments. He ate and drank as be never had drunk and eaten; his hunger joined with the perfection of the food gave a marvelous taste to it. He burnt incense before the statue of Amon, and wreathed it with fresh flowers. Later he sat down at a window.

"In the courtyard a pair of horses were neighing; they were harnessed to a carved chariot. In another place a crowd of men with darts and nets were keeping down eager dogs which were tearing away to chase animals. Before a granary one scribe was receiving grain from earth- tillers; before the stable another scribe was receiving reckoning from the overseer of the shepherds.

"In the distance were visible an olive grove, high hills covered with grape-vines, wheat-fields, and on every field were date palms set out thickly.

"'In truth,' said he to himself, 'I am rich today, just as was proper; and I only wonder how I endured life so long in abasement and misery. I must confess, too, that I do not know whether I can increase this immense property, for I need no more now, and I shall not have time to run after investments.'

"But after a while it was tedious in the house for him; so he looked at the garden, went around the fields, talked with the servants, who fell on their faces in his presence, though they were dressed in such style that yesterday he would have thought it an honor to kiss the hands of any one of them; but he was bored in the field even, so he went back to the house, and examined the supplies in his storehouses and cellars, also the furniture in the chambers.

"'They are beautiful,' said he to himself; 'but it would be better if the furniture were made of gold, and the pitchers of jewels.'

"His eyes turned mechanically toward the corner where the figure was concealed under an embroidered veil and it sighed.

"'Sigh!' said he, taking a censer to burn incense before the statue of Amon.

"'He is a kind god,' thought he, 'who values the qualities of sages, even when barefoot, and deals out to them justice. What a beautiful estate he has given me! It is true that I showed him honor by writing Amon on the door of that hut in two manners. And how beautifully I reckoned how many hen eggs he would get for seven partridges. My teachers were right when they said that wisdom opens the lips of gods even,'

"He turned again toward the corner. The veiled figure sighed again.

"'I am curious to know,' thought the scribe, 'why my friend Amon forbade me to touch that thing over there in the corner. Well, for such a property he had a right to impose conditions; though I should not have imposed them on him. For if all this palace is my property, if I may use all that is here, why should I not even touch this thing I may not touch it, but I may look at it.'

"He approached the figure, drew the veil aside carefully, looked; it was indeed beautiful. It resembled a boy, but was not a boy. It had hair reaching to its knees, delicate features, and a look full of sweetness.

"'Who art thou?' asked the scribe of the figure.

"'I am a woman,' answered the figure, with a voice that penetrated his heart like a Phoenician dagger.

"'Woman?' thought the scribe. 'They did not tell me about woman in the priests' school. Woman?' repeated he. 'But what hast Thou here?'

"'Those are my eyes.'

"'Eyes? What canst Thou see with eyes which would melt before any light?'

"'Those are not eyes made for me to look from, but Thou must look into them.'

"'Wonderful eyes! '" thought the scribe to himself; and he walked through the chamber.

"Again he stood before the figure, and asked,

"'But what hast Thou here?'

"'Those are my lips.'

"'By the gods, Thou wilt die of hunger,' cried he, 'for with such little lips Thou couldst take in no food whatever.'

"'They are not for eating,' answered the figure, 'but Thou art to kiss them.'

"'To kiss,' repeated the scribe. 'They did not tell me in the priests' school of kissing. But these what are they?'

"'Those are my hands.'

"'Hands? It is well that Thou hast told me, for with those hands Thou couldst not do anything; Thou couldst not milk sheep even.'

"'My hands are not for work.'

"'But for what?' wondered the scribe, spreading apart her fingers (as I do thine, Kama," said the prince, fondling the small hands of the priestess). "' But what are those arms for?' inquired the scribe of the figure.

"'To put around thy neck.'

"'Thou wishest to say shoulder,' cried the frightened scribe, whom the priest always seized by the shoulder when he was to get stripes.

"'Not by the shoulder,' said the figure, 'but this way;' and she put her arms around his neck thus," said the prince (here he put his arms around the priestess), "and she nestled up to his breast thus" (here he nestled up to Kama).

"Lord, what art Thou doing?" whispered Kama. "But this is nay death."

"Have no fear," replied the prince; "I was only showing thee what the statue did to that scribe in his palace. The moment she embraced him the earth trembled, the palace disappeared, dogs, horses, slaves vanished. The hill covered with grape-vines turned into a cliff, the olive-trees into thorns, the wheat into sand. The scribe, when he recovered in the embrace of his love, understood that he was as poor as he had been on the highroad a day earlier. But he did not regret his wealth, since he had a woman who loved and who clung to him."

"So everything vanished but the woman!" exclaimed Kama, naively.

"The compassionate Amon left her to the scribe to console him," said the viceroy.

"Then Amon is compassionate only to scribes," answered Kama. "But what does that story signify?"

"Guess. But Thou hast just heard what the poor scribe yielded up for the kiss of a woman."

"But he would not yield up a throne," interrupted the priestess.

"Who knows? if he were implored greatly to do so," whispered Ramses, with passion.

"Oh, no!" cried Kama, tearing away from him; "let not the throne go so easily, for what would become then of thy promise to Phoenicia?"

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time. The prince felt a wound in his heart, and felt as if through that wound some feeling had gone from him. It was not passion, for passion remained; but it was esteem for Kama, and faith in her.

"Wonderful are these Phoenicians," thought the heir; "one may go wild for them, but 'tis not possible to trust them."

He felt wearied, and took farewell of the priestess. He looked around the chamber as though it were difficult to leave the place; and while going, he said to himself,

"And still Thou wilt be mine, and Phoenician gods will not kill thee, if they regard their own priests and temples."

Barely had Ramses left Kama's villa, when into the chamber of the priestess rushed a young Greek who was strikingly beautiful, and strikingly similar to Ramses. Rage was depicted on his face.

"Lykon!" cried the terrified Kama. "What art Thou doing here?"

"Vile reptile!" replied the Greek, in his resonant voice. "A month has not passed since thy oath, declaring thy love, and that Thou wouldst flee to Greece with me, and now Thou art falling on the neck of another. Are the gods dead? Has justice deserted them?"

"Thou art mad with thy jealousy," interrupted the priestess; "Thou wilt kill me."

"It is sure that I, and not thy stone goddess, will kill thee. With these two hands," cried he, stretching out his fingers, like talons, "I will choke thee if Thou hast become the mistress."

"Of whom?"

"Do I know? Of course, of both, of that old Assyrian and this princeling, whose head I will split with a stone should he prowl about this place any longer. The prince! he has all the women of Egypt, and still he wants foreign priestesses. The priestesses are for priests, not for foreigners."

Kama recovered her coolness.

"But for us art Thou not a foreigner?" asked she, haughtily.

"Reptile!" burst out the Greek, a second time. "I cannot be a foreigner for you Asiatics, since that gift of voice with which the gods have endowed me is turned to the use of your divinities. But how often, by means of my figure, have ye deceived dull Asiatics by telling them that the heir to the throne of Egypt belongs to your faith in secret?"

"Silence! silence!" hissed the priestess, closing his mouth with her hand.

There must have been something enchanting in her touch, for the Greek grew calm, and spoke lower.

"Hear me, Kama. Soon to the bay of Sebenico will come a Greek ship, commanded by my brother. Make the high priest send thee to Pi-Uto; we shall flee thence to northern Greece, to a place which has never yet seen a Phoenician."

"It will see them if I hide there," interrupted the priestess.

"Should a hair fall from thy head," whispered the raging Greek, "I swear that Dagon, that all the Phoenicians here will lose their heads, or die in the stone quarries. They will learn what a Greek can do."

"But I say to thee," answered Kama, in the same tone, "that until I collect twenty talents I will not leave here. I have now only eight."

"Where wilt Thou get the other twelve?"

"Sargon and the viceroy will give them."

"I will let Sargon give, but not the prince."

"Foolish Lykon, dost thou not know why that stripling pleases me a little? He reminds me of thee."

The Greek was perfectly quieted.

"Well, well," muttered he, "I understand that when a woman has the choice between the heir to the throne and a man with my voice I have no need to tremble. But I am jealous and violent, so I beg thee to let him approach thee as little as possible."

He kissed her, slipped out of the villa, and vanished in the dark garden.

Kama stretched her clinched fist after him.

"Worthless buffoon!" whispered she; "Thou who art hardly fit to be a singing slave in my mansion."