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<div class="center stext">Copyright 1901 by George D. Sproul</div>
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<SPAN name="frontis" id="frontis"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/ifrontis.jpg" width-obs="579" height-obs="424" alt="Copyright 1901 by George D. Sproul
GILBO & CO.
Tahoser listened with inattention more apparent than real to the
song of the musician.—Page 80." title="" /><br/>
GILBO & CO.</div>
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<i>Tahoser listened with inattention more apparent than real to the
song of the musician.</i>—Page <SPAN href="#Pg_80">80.</SPAN></div>
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<h2>THE WORKS OF</h2>
<h1>THÉOPHILE GAUTIER</h1>
<h3>VOLUME FIVE</h3>
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<h3><small>TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY</small><br/> <span class="smcap">PROFESSOR F. C. de SUMICHRAST</span><br/> <small><i>Department of French, Harvard University</i></small></h3>
<hr style="width: 30%;" />
<h1>THE ROMANCE OF<br/> A MUMMY</h1>
<h4><i>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR</i></h4>
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<hr style="width: 30%;" />
<h2>THE ATHENAEUM SOCIETY<br/> <small>NEW YORK</small></h2>
<hr style="width: 30%;" />
<div class="center"><i>Copyright, 1901, by</i><br/>
<span class="smcap" style="text-decoration: underline;">George D. Sproul</span></div>
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<div class="center">UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON<br/>
AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.</div>
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<h2><i>Contents</i></h2>
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<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="table of contents" width="45%">
<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>THE ROMANCE OF A MUMMY</td></tr>
<tr><td></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td><td align='right' style='width: 40%;'><i>Page</i></td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#Introduction">3</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#Prologue">9</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Romance of a Mummy</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#I">68</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td></td></tr>
<tr><td align='center' colspan='3'>EGYPT</td></tr>
<tr><td></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Unwrapping of a Mummy</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#THE_UNWRAPPING_OF_A_MUMMY">299</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">From Alexandria to Cairo</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#FROM_ALEXANDRIA_TO_CAIRO">308</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ezbekîyeh Square</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#EZBEKIYEH_SQUARE">331</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Ancient Egypt</span></td><td align='right'>"</td><td align='right'><SPAN href="#ANCIENT_EGYPT">338</SPAN></td></tr>
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<h2><i>List of Illustrations</i></h2>
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<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="3" summary="list of illustrations" width="54%">
<tr><td align='left'>Tahoser listened with inattention more apparent than real to the song of the musician.</td><td align='right'><i><SPAN href="#frontis">Frontispiece</SPAN></i></td></tr>
<tr><td align='left'>The Pharaoh slew but a short time ago three messengers with a blow of his sceptre.</td><td align='right'><i>Page</i> <SPAN href="#secondpic">229</SPAN></td></tr>
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<div class="u">
<h2><i>The Romance of a Mummy</i></h2></div>
<div class="minispace"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</SPAN></span></div>
<div class="minispace"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</SPAN></span></div>
<h1><i><span class="smcap">The Romance<br/> of a Mummy</span></i></h1>
<h2 class="chapter" style="margin-top: 2em;"><SPAN name="Introduction" id="Introduction"></SPAN>Introduction</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> subject of "The Romance of a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</SPAN></span>
Mummy" was possibly suggested to
Théophile Gautier by Ernest Feydeau,
the author of "Fanny" and other works
of purely light literature, who published in 1858 a
"General History of Funeral Customs and Burials
among the Ancients." This book was reviewed by
Gautier when it appeared, and it is most likely that he
had been previously made acquainted with its contents
and had discussed Egyptian funeral rites and modes of
sepulture with the author, for it was to Feydeau that he
dedicated his novel when it was published in book form
by Hachette in 1858. An omnivorous reader, Gautier
had no doubt also perused the far more important works
of Champollion, the decipherer of the inscriptions on
the Rosetta stone, who first gave the learned world the
key to the mysterious Egyptian hieroglyphic alphabet.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</SPAN></span>
Champollion's "Monuments of Egypt and Nubia"
had appeared in four volumes from 1835 to 1845, and
a continuation by himself and the Vicomte Emmanuel
de Rougé was completed in 1872. Champollion-Figeac's
"Ancient Egypt" had been published in
1840, having been preceded by Lenormant's "The
Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in the Louvre," in
1830, and followed by Prisse d'Avennes' "Monuments
of Egypt" in 1847. The explorations and discoveries
of Mariette, summed up in that writer's "Selected
Monuments and Drawings," issued in 1856, and
the steady growth of the Egyptian Museum in the
Louvre, to which was added in 1852 the magnificent
Clot-Bey collection, must have attracted the attention
of Gautier, always keenly interested in art, literature,
and erudition.</p>
<p>The account he gives, in his novel, of the ancient
city of Thebes, of the great necropolis in the valley of
Biban el Molûk, of the subterranean tombs, of the precautions
taken by the designers to baffle curiosity, of
the form and ornamentation of the sarcophagi, of the
mummy-cases, of the mummy itself, of the manners,
customs, dress, and beliefs of the ancient Egyptians,
are marvellously accurate. Nothing is easier than to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</SPAN></span>
verify his descriptions by reference to the works of
Champollion, Mariette, Wilkinson, Rawlinson, Erman,
Edwards, and Maspero. Scarcely here and there
will the reader find a possible error in his statements.
It is evident that he has not trusted alone to what
Feydeau told him, or to what he read in his book or in
the works of Egyptologists; he examined the antiquities
in the Louvre for himself; he noted carefully the
scenes depicted on monuments and sarcophagi; he
traced the ornamentation in all its details; he studied
the poses, the attitudes, the expressions; he marked
the costumes, the accessories; in a word, he mastered
his subject, and then only did he, with that facility and
certainty that amazed Balzac, write in swift succession
the chapters of the novel which appeared in the numbers
of the "Moniteur Universel" from March 11 to
May 6, 1857.</p>
<p>His remark on Feydeau's book, "Picturesqueness
in no wise detracts from accuracy," might well be
applied to his own "Romance," which fascinates the
reader with its evocation of a long vanished past and its
representation of a civilisation buried for centuries in
mystery. The weaving in of the wonders wrought by
Moses and Aaron, of the overwhelming of the Pharaoh,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</SPAN></span>
whether Thotmes or Rameses, is skilfully managed,
and imparts to the portions of the Biblical narrative
used by him a verisimilitude and a sensation of actuality
highly artistic. The purely erudite part of the work
would probably not have interested the general public,
indifferent to the discoveries of archæology, but the
introduction of the human element of love at once captivated
it; the erudite appreciated the accuracy of the
restoration of ancient times and manners; the merely
curious were pleased with a well told story, cleverly set
in a framework whose strangeness appealed to their love
of exoticism and novelty.</p>
<p>There have been added by the editor, as bearing
upon the subject of the "Romance of a Mummy,"
two or three chapters from the volume entitled "The
Orient," which is made up of a collection of sketches
and letters of travel written at different times, and of
reviews of books upon Eastern subjects, whether
modern or ancient. The chapter describing a trip to
Egypt was the result of a flying visit paid to that country
on the occasion of the official opening of the Suez
Canal in November, 1869. Gautier embarked on
board the steamship "Moeris," of the Messageries
Impériales, at Marseilles. The very first night out he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</SPAN></span>
slipped and fell down the companion steps, and broke
his left arm above the elbow. This painful accident
did not prevent his fulfilling his promise to keep the
"Journal Officiel," with which he was then connected,
fully supplied with accounts of the land and the inauguration
ceremonies.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr />
<h1 style="font-size: 170%; margin-bottom: 1em;"><i>The Romance of a Mummy</i></h1>
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="Prologue" id="Prologue"></SPAN>Prologue</h2>
<p><SPAN name="quotes" id="quotes"></SPAN><span class="quotem">"</span><span class="dropcap">I</span> <span class="upper">have</span> a presentiment that we shall find in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</SPAN></span>
valley of Biban el Molûk a tomb intact,"
said to a high-bred-looking young Englishman
a much more humble personage who was wiping,
with a big, blue-checked handkerchief, his bald
head, on which stood drops of perspiration, just as if
it had been made of porous clay and filled with water
like a Theban water-jar.</p>
<p>"May Osiris hear you!" replied the English nobleman
to the German scholar. "One may be allowed
such an invocation in the presence of the ancient
<i>Diospolis Magna</i>. But we have been so often deceived
hitherto; treasure-seekers have always forestalled us."</p>
<p>"A tomb which neither the Shepherd Kings nor
the Medes of Cambyses nor the Greeks nor the
Romans nor the Arabs have explored, and which
will give up to us its riches intact," continued the
perspiring scholar, with an enthusiasm which made
his eyes gleam behind the lenses of his blue glasses.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"And on which you will print a most learned
dissertation which will give you a place by the side
of Champollion, Rosellini, Wilkinson, Lepsius, and
Belzoni," said the young nobleman.</p>
<p>"I shall dedicate it to you, my lord, for had you
not treated me with regal munificence, I could
not have backed up my system by an examination
of the monuments, and I should have died in my
little town in Germany without having beheld the
marvels of this ancient land," replied the scholar,
with emotion.</p>
<p>This conversation took place not far from the Nile,
at the entrance to the valley of Biban el Molûk,
between Lord Evandale, who rode an Arab horse,
and Dr. Rumphius, more modestly perched upon an
ass, the lean hind-quarters of which a fellah was belabouring.
The boat which had brought the two travellers,
and which was to be their dwelling during their
stay, was moored on the other side of the Nile in front
of the village of Luxor. Its sweeps were shipped, its
great lateen sails furled on the yards. After having
devoted a few days to visiting and studying the amazing
ruins of Thebes, gigantic remains of a mighty
world, they had crossed the river on a sandal, a light<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</SPAN></span>
native boat, and were proceeding towards the barren
region which contains within its depths, far down
mysterious hypogea, the former inhabitants of the
palaces on the other bank. A few men of the crew
accompanied Lord Evandale and Dr. Rumphius at
a distance, while the others, stretched out on the
deck in the shadow of the cabin, were peacefully
smoking their pipes and watching the craft.</p>
<p>Lord Evandale was one of those thoroughly irreproachable
young noblemen whom the upper classes
of Britain give to civilisation. He bore everywhere
with him the disdainful sense of security which comes
from great hereditary wealth, a historic name inscribed
in the "Peerage and Baronetage"—a book
second only to the Bible in England—and a beauty
against which nothing could be urged, save that it
was too great for a man. His clear-cut and cold
features seemed to be a wax copy of the head of
Meleager or Antinoüs; his brilliant complexion seemed
to be the result of rouge and powder, and his somewhat
reddish hair curled naturally as accurately as an
expert hairdresser or clever valet could have made
it curl. On the other hand, the firm glance of his
steel-blue eyes and the slightly sneering expression<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</SPAN></span>
of his lower lip corrected whatever there might be
of effeminate in his general appearance.</p>
<p>As a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron, the
young nobleman indulged occasionally in a cruise
on his swift yacht <i>Puck</i>, built of teak, fitted like
a boudoir, and manned by a small crew of picked seamen.
In the course of the preceding year he had
visited Iceland; in the present year he was visiting
Egypt, and his yacht awaited him in the roads of
Alexandria. He had with him a scholar, a physician,
a naturalist, an artist, and a photographer, in order
that his trip might not be unfruitful. He was himself
highly educated, and his society successes had not
made him forget his triumphs at Cambridge University.
He was dressed with that accuracy and careful
neatness characteristic of the English, who traverse
the desert sands in the same costume which
they would wear when walking on the pier at Ramsgate
or on the pavements of the West End. A coat,
vest, and trousers of white duck, intended to repel the
sun's rays, composed his costume, which was completed
by a narrow blue necktie with white spots, and
an extremely fine Panama hat with a veil.</p>
<p>Rumphius, the Egyptologist, preserved even in this<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</SPAN></span>
hot climate the traditional black coat of the scholar
with its loose skirts, its curled up collar, its worn
buttons, some of which had freed themselves of their
silk covering. His black trousers shone in places and
showed the warp. Near the right knee an attentive
observer might have remarked upon the greyish ground
of the stuff a systematic series of lines of richer tone
which proved that he was in the habit of wiping his
pen upon this portion of his clothes. His muslin
cravat, rolled in the shape of a cord, hung loosely
around his neck, on which stood out strongly the
Adam's apple. Though he was dressed with scientific
carelessness, Rumphius was not any the handsomer
on that account. A few reddish hairs, streaked
with gray, were brushed back behind his protruding
ears, and were puffed up by the high collar of his
coat. His perfectly bald skull, shining like a bone,
overhung a prodigiously long nose, spongy and bulbous
at the end, so that with the blue discs of his
glasses he looked somewhat like an ibis,—a resemblance
increased by his head sunk between his shoulders.
This appearance was of course entirely suitable
and most providential for one engaged in deciphering
hieroglyphic inscriptions and scrolls. He looked like<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</SPAN></span>
a bird-headed god, such as are seen on funeral frescoes,
who had transmigrated into the body of a scholar.</p>
<p>The lord and the doctor were travelling towards
the cliffs which encircle the sombre valley of Biban
el Molûk, the royal necropolis of ancient Thebes,
indulging in the conversation of which we have related
a part, when, rising like a Troglodyte from
the black mouth of an empty sepulchre—the ordinary
habitation of the fellahs—another person, dressed
in somewhat theatrical fashion, abruptly entered
on the scene, stood before the travellers, and saluted
them with the graceful salute of the Orientals, which
is at once humble, caressing, and noble.</p>
<p>This man was a Greek who undertook to direct
excavations, who manufactured and sold antiquities,
selling new ones when the supply of the old happened
to fail. Nothing about him, however, smacked of the
vulgar exploiter of strangers. He wore a red felt fez
from which hung a long blue silk tassel; under the
narrow edge of an inner linen cap showed his temples,
evidently recently shaved. His olive complexion, his
black eyebrows, his hooked nose, his eyes like those
of a bird of prey, his big moustaches, his chin almost
divided into two parts by a mark which looked very<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</SPAN></span>
much like a sabre-cut, would have made his face that
of a brigand, had not the harshness of his features been
tempered by the assumed amenity and the servile smile
of a speculator who has many dealings with the public.
He was dressed in very cleanly fashion in a cinnamon-coloured
jacket embroidered with silk of the same
colour, gaiters of the same stuff, a white vest adorned
with buttons like chamomile flowers, a broad red belt,
and vast bulging trousers with innumerable folds.</p>
<p>He had long since noted the boat at anchor before
Luxor. Its size, the number of the oarsmen, the
luxury of the fittings, and especially the English flag
which floated from the stern, had led his mercantile
instinct to expect a rich traveller whose scientific
curiosity might be exploited, and who would not be
satisfied with statuettes of blue or green enamelled
ware, engraved scarabæi, paper rubbings of hieroglyphic
panels, and other such trifles of Egyptian art.</p>
<p>He had followed the coming and going of the travellers
among the ruins, and knowing that they would not
fail, after having sated their curiosity, to cross the
stream in order to visit the royal tombs, he awaited
them on his own ground, certain of fleecing them to
some extent. He looked upon the whole of this<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</SPAN></span>
funereal realm as his own property, and treated with
scant courtesy the little subaltern jackals who ventured
to scratch in the tombs.</p>
<p>With the swift perception characteristic of the Greeks,
no sooner had he cast his eyes upon Lord Evandale
than he quickly estimated the probable income of his
lordship and resolved not to deceive him, reasoning
that he would profit more by telling the truth than by
lying. So he gave up his intention of leading the
noble Englishman through hypogea traversed hundreds
of times already, and disdained to allow him to begin
excavations in places where he knew nothing would be
found; for he himself had long since taken out and
sold very dear the curiosities they had contained.</p>
<p>Argyropoulos (such was the Greek's name), while
exploring the portion of the valley which had been less
frequently sounded than others because hitherto the
search had never been rewarded by any find, had come
to the conclusion that in a certain spot, behind some
rocks whose position seemed to be due to chance,
there certainly existed the entrance to a passageway
masked with peculiar care, which his great experience
in this kind of search had enabled him to recognise by
a thousand signs imperceptible to less clear-sighted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</SPAN></span>
eyes than his own, which were as sharp and piercing
as those of the vultures perched upon the entablature
of the temples. Since he had made that discovery, two
years before, he had bound himself never to walk or
look in that direction lest he might give a hint to the
violators of tombs.</p>
<p>"Does your lordship intend to attempt excavations?"
said he in a sort of cosmopolitan dialect which
those who have been in the ports of the Levant and
have had recourse to the services of the polyglot dragomans—who
end by not knowing any language—are
well acquainted with. Fortunately, both Lord Evandale
and his learned companion knew the various
tongues from which Argyropoulos borrowed. "I can
place at your disposal," he went on, "some hundred
energetic fellahs who, under the spur of whip and
bakshîsh, would dig with their finger-nails to the
very centre of the earth. We may try, if it pleases
your lordship, to clear away a buried sphinx or a shrine,
or to open up a hypogeum."</p>
<p>On seeing that his lordship remained unmoved by
this tempting enumeration, and that a sceptical smile
flitted across the doctor's face, Argyropoulos understood
that he had not to deal with easy dupes, and he was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</SPAN></span>
confirmed in his intention to sell to the Englishman the
discovery on which he reckoned to complete his fortune
and to give a dowry to his daughter.</p>
<p>"I can see that you are scholars, not ordinary
tourists, and that vulgar curiosity does not bring you
here," he went on, speaking in English less mixed with
Greek, Arabic, and Italian. "I will show you a tomb
which has hitherto escaped all searchers, which no one
knows of but myself. It is a treasure which I have
carefully preserved for a person worthy of it."</p>
<p>"And for which you will have to be paid a high
price," said his lordship, smiling.</p>
<p>"I am too honest to contradict your lordship; I do
hope to get a good price for my discovery. Every one
in this world lives by his trade. Mine is to exhume
Pharaohs and sell them to strangers. Pharaohs are
becoming scarce at the rate at which they are being
dug up; there are not enough left for everybody.
They are very much in demand, and it is long since
any have been manufactured."</p>
<p>"Quite right," said the scholar; "it is some centuries
since the undertakers, dissectors, and embalmers
have shut up shop, and the Memnonia, peaceful dwellings
of the dead, have been deserted by the living."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Greek, as he heard these words, cast a sidelong
glance at the German, but fancying from his
wretched dress that he had no voice in the matter,
he continued to address himself exclusively to the
young nobleman.</p>
<p>"Are a thousand guineas too much, my lord, for a
tomb of the greatest antiquity, which no human hand
has opened for more than three thousand years, since
the priests rolled rocks before its mouth? Indeed, it
is giving it away; for perhaps it contains quantities of
gold, diamond, and pearl necklaces, carbuncle earrings,
sapphire seals, ancient idols in precious metals, and coins
which could be turned to account."</p>
<p>"You sly rascal!" said Rumphius, "you are praising
up your wares, but you know better than any one
that nothing of the sort is found in Egyptian tombs."</p>
<p>Argyropoulos, understanding that he had to do with
clever men, ceased to boast, and turning to Lord Evandale,
he said to him, "Well, my lord, does the price
suit you?"</p>
<p>"I will give a thousand guineas," replied the young
nobleman, "if the tomb has not been opened; but I
shall give nothing if a single stone has been touched by
the crow-bar of the diggers."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"With the additional proviso," added Rumphius the
prudent, "that we carry off everything we shall find in
the tomb."</p>
<p>"Agreed!" said Argyropoulos, with a look of complete
confidence. "Your lordship may get ready your
bank-notes and gold beforehand."</p>
<p>"Dr. Rumphius," said Lord Evandale to his acolyte,
"it strikes me that the wish you uttered just now is
about to be realised. This man seems sure of what
he says."</p>
<p>"Heaven will it may be so!" replied the scholar,
shaking his head somewhat doubtfully; "but the
Greeks are most barefaced liars, <i>Cretæ mendaces</i>, says
the proverb."</p>
<p>"No doubt this one comes from the mainland,"
answered Lord Evandale, "and I think that for once
he has told the truth."</p>
<p>The Greek walked a few steps ahead of the nobleman
and the scholar like a well-bred man who knows
what is proper. He walked lightly and firmly, like a
man who feels that he is on his own ground.</p>
<p>The narrow defile which forms the entrance to
the valley of Biban el Molûk was soon reached. It
had more the appearance of the work of man than<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</SPAN></span>
of a natural opening in the mighty wall of the mountain,
as if the Genius of Solitude had desired to make
this realm of death inaccessible. On the perpendicular
rocky walls were faintly discernible shapeless
vestiges of weather-worn sculptures which might
have been mistaken for the asperities of the stone
imitating the worn figures of a half-effaced <i>basso-relievo</i>.
Beyond the opening, the valley, which here
widened somewhat, presented the most desolate sight.
On either side rose steep slopes formed of huge masses
of calcareous rock, rough, leprous-looking, worn,
cracked, ground to sand, in a complete state of
decomposition under the pitiless sun. They resembled
bones calcined in the fire, and yawned with
the weariness of eternity out of their deep crevices,
imploring by their thousand cracks the drop of water
which never fell. The walls rose almost vertically
to a great height, and their dentelated crests stood
out grayish-white against the almost black indigo
of the sky, like the broken battlements of a giant
ruined fortress. The rays of the sun heated to white
heat one of the sides of the funeral valley, the other
being bathed in that crude blue tint of torrid lands
which strikes the people of the North as untruthful<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</SPAN></span>
when it is reproduced by painters, and which stands out
as sharply as the shadows on an architectural drawing.</p>
<p>The valley sometimes made sudden turns, sometimes
narrowed into defiles as the boulders and cliffs
drew closer or apart. The thoroughly dry atmosphere
in these climates being perfectly transparent,
there was no aerial perspective in this place of desolation.
Every detail, sharp, accurate, bare, stood out,
even in the background, with pitiless dryness, and
the distance could only be guessed at by the smaller
dimensions of objects. It seemed as though cruel
nature had resolved not to conceal any wretchedness,
any sadness of this bare land, deader even than the
dead it contained. Upon the sun-lighted cliff streamed
like a cascade of fire a blinding glare like that which
is given out by molten metal; every rock face, transformed
into a burning-glass, returned it more ardent
still. These reflections, crossing and recrossing each
other, joined to the flaming rays which fell from
heaven and which were reflected by the ground, produced
a heat equal to that of an oven, and the poor
German doctor had hard work to wipe his face with
his blue-checked handkerchief, which was as wet as
if it had been dipped in water.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>There was not a particle of loam to be found in
the whole valley, consequently not a blade of grass,
not a bramble, not a creeper, not even a patch of
moss to break the uniformly whitish tone of the
torrified landscape. The cracks and recesses of the
rocks did not hold coolness enough for the thin,
hairy roots of the smallest rock plant. The place
looked as if it held the ashes of a chain of mountains,
consumed in some great planetary conflagration, and
the accuracy of the parallel was completed by great
black strips looking like cauterised cicatrices which
rayed the chalky slopes.</p>
<p>Deep silence reigned over this waste; no sign of
life was visible; no flutter of wing, no hum of insect,
no flash of lizard or reptile; even the shrill song
of the cricket, that lover of burning solitudes, was
unheard. The soil was formed of a micaceous, brilliant
dust like ground sandstone, and here and there
rose hummocks formed of the fragments of stone
torn from the depths of the chain, which had been
excavated by the persevering workmen of vanished
generations, and the chisel of the Troglodyte labourers
who had prepared in the shadow the eternal dwelling-places
of the dead. The broken entrails of the moun<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</SPAN></span>tain
had produced other mountains, friable heaps of
small rocks which might have been mistaken for the
natural range.</p>
<p>On the sides of the cliffs showed here and there
small openings surrounded with blocks of stone thrown
in disorder: square holes flanked by pillars covered
with hieroglyphs, the lintels of which bore mysterious
cartouches on which could yet be made out in
a great yellow disc the sacred scarabæus, the ram-headed
sun, and the goddesses Isis and Nephthys
standing or kneeling.</p>
<p>These were the tombs of the ancient kings of
Thebes. Argyropoulos did not stop there, but led
the travellers up a sort of steep slope, which at first
glance seemed nothing but a break on the side of
the mountain, choked in many places by fallen masses
of rock, until they reached a narrow platform, a sort
of cornice projecting over the vertical cliff on which
the rocks, apparently thrown together by chance,
nevertheless exhibited on close examination some
symmetrical arrangement.</p>
<p>When the nobleman, who was a practised athlete,
and the doctor, who was much less agile, had succeeded
in climbing up to him, Argyropoulos pointed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span>
with his stick to a huge stone and said with triumphant
satisfaction, "There is the spot!"</p>
<p>He clapped his hands in Oriental fashion, and
straightway from the fissures of the rocks, from the
folds of the valley, hastened up pale, ragged fellahs,
who bore in their bronze-coloured arms crow-bars,
pick-axes, hammers, ladders, and all necessary tools.
They escaladed the steep slope like a legion of black
ants; those who could not find room on the narrow
ledge on which already stood the Greek, Lord Evandale,
and Dr. Rumphius, hung by their hands and
steadied themselves with their feet against the projections
in the rock. The Greek signed to three of
the most robust, who placed their crow-bars under
the edges of the boulder. Their muscles stood out
upon their thin arms, and they pressed with their
whole weight on the end of the levers. At last the
boulder moved, tottered for a moment like a drunken
man, and, urged by the united efforts of Argyropoulos,
Lord Evandale, Rumphius, and a few Arabs who had
succeeded in climbing the ledge, bounded down the
slope. Two other boulders of less size went the
same way, one after another, and then it was plain
that the belief of the Greek was justified. The<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span>
entrance to a tomb, which had evidently escaped
the investigations of the treasure-seekers, appeared in
all its integrity.</p>
<p>It was a sort of portico squarely cut in the living
rock. On the two side-walls a couple of pairs of pillars
exhibited capitals formed of bulls' heads, the horns
of which were twisted like the crescent of Isis.
Below the low door, with its jambs flanked by long
panels covered with hieroglyphs, there was a broad,
emblematic square. In the centre of a yellow disc
showed by the side of the scarabæus, symbol of successive
new births, the ram-headed god, the symbol of
the setting sun. Outside the disc, Isis and Nephthys,
incarnations of the Beginning and the End, were kneeling,
one leg bent under the thigh, the other raised
to the height of the elbow, in the Egyptian attitude,
the arms stretched forward with an air of mysterious
amazement, and the body clothed in a close fitting
gown girdled by a belt with falling ends. Behind a
wall of stone and unbaked brick, that readily yielded
to the pickaxes of the workmen, was discovered the
stone slab which formed the doorway of the subterranean
monument. On the clay seal which closed it,
the German doctor, thoroughly familiar with hiero<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span>glyphs,
had no difficulty in reading the motto of the
guardian of the funeral dwellings, who had closed forever
this tomb, the situation of which he alone could
have found upon the map of burial-places preserved in
the priests' college.</p>
<p>"I begin to believe," said the delighted scholar to
the young nobleman, "that we have actually found a
prize, and I withdraw the unfavourable opinion which
I expressed about this worthy Greek."</p>
<p>"Perhaps we are rejoicing too soon," answered
Lord Evandale, "and we may experience the same
disappointment as Belzoni, when he believed himself
to be the first to enter the tomb of Menephtha Seti,
and found, after he had traversed a labyrinth of passages,
walls, and chambers, an empty sarcophagus with
a broken cover; for the treasure-seekers had reached
the royal tomb through one of their soundings driven
in at another point in the mountain."</p>
<p>"Oh, no," answered the doctor; "the range is
too broad here and the hypogeum too distant from
the others for these wretched people to have carried
their mines as far as this, even if they scraped away
the rock."</p>
<p>While this conversation was going on, the workmen,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span>
urged by Argyropoulos, proceeded to lift the great
stone slab which filled up the orifice of the passage.
As they cleared away the slab in order to pass their
crow-bars under it, for Lord Evandale had ordered
that nothing should be broken, they turned up in the
sand innumerable small statuettes a few inches in height,
of blue and green enamelled ware, of admirable workmanship,—tiny
funeral statuettes deposited there as
offerings by parents and friends, just as we place
flowers on the thresholds of our funeral chapels; only,
our flowers wither, while after more than three thousand
years these witnesses of long bygone griefs are
found intact, for Egypt worked for eternity only.</p>
<p>When the door was lifted away, giving for the first
time in thirty-five centuries entrance to the light of
day, a puff of hot air escaped from the sombre opening
as from the mouth of a furnace. The light, striking
the entrance of the funeral passage, brought out brilliantly
the colouring of the hieroglyphs engraved upon
the walls in perpendicular lines upon a blue plinth. A
reddish figure with a hawk's-head crowned with the
<i>pschent</i>, the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt,
bore a disc containing a winged globe, and seemed to
watch on the threshold of the tomb. Some fellahs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
lighted torches and preceded the two travellers, who
were accompanied by Argyropoulos. The resinous
flame burned with difficulty in the dense, stifling air
which had been concentrated for so many thousands
of years under the heated limestone of the mountain,
in the labyrinths, passages, and blind ways of the
hypogeum. Rumphius breathed hard and perspired in
streams; the impassible Evandale turned hot and felt
a moisture on his temples. As for the Greek, the
fiery wind of the desert had long since dried him up,
and he perspired no more than would a mummy.</p>
<p>The passage led directly to the centre of the chain,
following a vein of limestone of remarkable fineness
and purity. At the end of the passageway a stone
door, sealed as the other had been with a clay seal and
surmounted by a winged globe, proved that the tomb
had not been violated and pointed to the existence of
another passageway sunk deeper still into the mountain.</p>
<p>The heat was now so intense that the young nobleman
threw off his white coat, and the doctor his black
one. These were soon followed by their vests and
shirts. Argyropoulos, seeing that they were breathing
with difficulty, whispered a few words to a fellah, who
ran back to the entrance and brought two large sponges<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span>
filled with fresh water, which the Greek advised the
two travellers to place on their mouths so that they
might breathe a fresher air through the humid pores,
as is done in Russian baths when the steam heat is
raised to excess.</p>
<p>The door was attacked and soon gave way. A
steep staircase cut in the living rock was then seen
descending. Against a green background edged with
a blue line were ranged on either side of the passageway
processions of symbolical statues, the colours of
which were as bright and fresh as if the artist's brush
had laid them on the day before. They would show
for a second in the light of the torches, then vanish in
the shadow like the phantoms of a dream. Below
these narrow frescoes, lines of hieroglyphs, written perpendicularly
like Chinese writing and separated by
hollow lines, excited the erudite by the sacred mystery
of their outlines. Along that portion of the walls
which was not covered with hieratic signs, a jackal
lying on its belly, with outstretched paws and pointed
ears, and a kneeling figure wearing a mitre, its hand
stretched upon a circle, seemed to stand as sentries on
either side of the door, the lintel of which was ornamented
with two panels placed side by side, in which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
were figured two women wearing close-fitting gowns
and extending their feathered arms like wings.</p>
<p>"Look here!" said the doctor, taking breath when
he reached the foot of the staircase, and when he saw
that the excavation sank deeper and deeper still.
"Are we going down to the centre of the earth?
The heat is increasing to such a degree that we cannot
be far from the sojourn of the damned."</p>
<p>"No doubt," answered Lord Evandale, "they followed
the vein of limestone, which sinks in accordance
with the law of geological undulations."</p>
<p>Another very steep passage came after the steps.
The walls were lower, covered with paintings, in
which could be made out a series of allegorical scenes,
explained, no doubt, by the hieroglyphs inscribed
below. This frieze ran all along the passage, and
below it were small figures worshipping sacred scarabæi
and the azure-coloured symbolical serpent.</p>
<p>As he reached the end of the passage, the fellah who
carried the torch threw himself back abruptly, for the
path was suddenly interrupted by the mouth of a
square well yawning black at the surface of the ground.</p>
<p>"There is a well, master," said the fellah, addressing
himself to Argyropoulos; "what am I to do?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Greek took the torch, shook it to make it blaze
up, and threw it into the small mouth of the well,
bending cautiously over the opening. The torch fell,
twisting and hissing. Soon a dull sound was heard,
followed by a burst of sparks and a cloud of smoke,
then the flame burned up bright and clear, and the
opening of the well shone in the shadow like the
bloodshot eye of a Cyclops.</p>
<p>"Most ingenious!" said the young nobleman.
"This labyrinth, interrupted by oubliettes, must have
cooled the zeal of robbers and scholars."</p>
<p>"Not at all," replied the doctor. "Those seek
gold, these truth, which are the two most precious
things in the world."</p>
<p>"Bring the knotted rope!" cried Argyropoulos to
his Arabs. "We shall explore and sound the walls of
the well, for the passage no doubt runs far beyond it."</p>
<p>Eight or ten men hung on to the rope, the end of
which was let fall into the well. With the agility of
a monkey or of an athlete, Argyropoulos caught hold
of the swinging rope and let himself down some fifteen
feet, holding on with his hands and striking with his
heels the walls of the well. Wherever he struck the
rock it gave out a dead, dull sound. Then Argyro<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span>poulos
let himself fall to the bottom of the well and
struck the ground with the hilt of his kandjar, but the
compact rock did not resound. Lord Evandale and
the doctor, burning with eager curiosity, bent over the
edge at the risk of falling in headlong, and watched
with intense interest the search undertaken by the
Greek.</p>
<p>"Hold hard!" cried he at last, annoyed at finding
nothing; and he seized the rope with his two hands
to ascend.</p>
<p>The shadow of Argyropoulos, lighted from below by
the torch which was still burning at the bottom of the
well, was projected against the ceiling and cast on it a
silhouette like that of a monstrous bird. His sunburned
face expressed the liveliest disappointment, and
under his moustache he was biting his lips.</p>
<p>"There is not a trace of a passage!" he cried;
"and yet the excavation cannot stop here."</p>
<p>"Unless," said Rumphius, "the Egyptian who
ordered this tomb died in some distant nome, on a
voyage, or in battle, the work being then abandoned, as
is known to have been the case occasionally."</p>
<p>"Let us hope that by dint of searching we shall find
some secret issue," returned Lord Evandale; "other<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span>wise
we shall try to drive a transverse shaft through
the mountain."</p>
<p>"Those confounded Egyptians were clever indeed
at concealing the entrances to their tombs,—always
trying to find out some way of putting poor people
off the track. One would think that they laughed
in anticipation at the disappointment of searchers,"
grumbled Argyropoulos. Drawing to the edge of the
well, the Greek cast a glance, as piercing as that of a
night-bird, upon the wall of the little chamber which
formed the upper portion of the well. He saw nothing
but the ordinary characters of psychostasia,—Osiris
the judge seated on his throne in the regulation attitude,
holding the crook in the one hand, the whip in
the other, and the goddesses of Justice and Truth
leading the spirit of the dead to the tribunal of Amenti.
Suddenly he seemed to be struck with a new idea,
and turned sharply around. His long experience as
an excavator recalled to him a somewhat analogous
case. In addition, the desire of earning the thousand
guineas of his lordship spurred up his faculties. He
took a pick-axe from the hands of a fellah, and began,
walking backward, to strike sharply right and left on
the surface of the rock, often at the risk of damaging<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
some of the hieroglyphs or of breaking the beak or
the wing-sheath of the sacred hawk or the scarabæus.</p>
<p>The wall, thus questioned, at last answered the
hammer and sounded hollow. An exclamation of triumph
broke from the Greek and his eyes flashed; the
doctor and the nobleman clapped their hands.</p>
<p>"Dig here," said Argyropoulos, who had recovered
his coolness, to his men.</p>
<p>An opening large enough to allow a man to pass
through was made. A gallery running within the
mountain around the obstacle which the well offered
to the profane, led to a square hall, the blue vault of
which rested upon four massive pillars ornamented
by the red-skinned, white-garmented figures which so
often show, in Egyptian frescoes, the full bust and the
head in profile. This hall opened into another, the
vault of which was somewhat higher and supported by
two pillars only. Various scenes—the mystic bark,
the bull Apis bearing the mummy towards the regions
of the West, the judgment of the soul and the weighing
of the deeds of the dead in the supreme scales,
the offerings to the funeral divinities—adorned the
pillars and the hall. They were carved in flat, low
relief with sharp outline, but the painter's brush had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span>
not completed the work of the chisel. By the care
and delicacy of the work might be judged the importance
of the personage whose tomb it had been sought
to conceal from the knowledge of men.</p>
<p>After having spent a few moments in examining
these carvings, which were in the purest manner of the
fine Egyptian style of the classical age, the explorers
perceived that there was no issue from the hall, and
that they had reached a sort of blind place. The air
was becoming somewhat rarified, the torches burned
with difficulty and further augmented the heat of the
atmosphere, while the smoke formed a dense pall.
The Greek gave himself to the devil, but that did no
good. Again the walls were sounded without any
result. The mountain, thick and compact, gave back
but a dead sound; there was no trace of a door, of a
passage, or of any sort of opening.</p>
<p>The young nobleman was plainly discouraged, and
the doctor let fall his arms by his side. Argyropoulos,
who feared losing his thousand guineas, exhibited the
fiercest despair. However, the party was compelled to
retreat, for the heat had become absolutely suffocating.</p>
<p>They returned to the outer hall, and there the
Greek, who could not make up his mind to see his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span>
golden dream vanish in smoke, examined with the
most minute attention the shafts of the pillars to
make certain that they did not conceal some artifice,
that they did not mask some trap which might be
discovered by displacing them; for in his despair
he mingled the realism of Egyptian architecture with
the chimerical constructions of the Arab tales. The
pillars, cut out of the mountain itself, in the centre of
the hollowed mass, formed part of it, and it would
have been necessary to employ gunpowder to break
them down. All hope was gone.</p>
<p>"Nevertheless," said Rumphius, "this labyrinth was
not dug for nothing. Somewhere or another there
must be a passage like the one which goes around the
well. No doubt the dead man was afraid of being
disturbed by importunate persons and he had himself
carefully concealed; but with patience and perseverance
you can get anywhere. Perhaps a slab carefully
concealed, the joint of which cannot be seen, owing to
the dust scattered over the ground, covers some descent
which leads, directly or indirectly, to the funeral hall."</p>
<p>"You are right, doctor," said Evandale; "those
accursed Egyptians jointed stones as closely as the
hinges of an English trap. Let us go on looking."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The doctor's idea struck the Greek as sound, and he
made his fellahs walk about every part and corner of
the hall, tapping the ground. At last, not far from the
third pillar a dull resonance struck on the practised
ear of the Greek. He threw himself on his knees to
examine the spot, brushing away with the ragged burnouse
one of his Arabs had thrown him the impalpable
dust of thirty-five centuries. A black, narrow, sharp
line showed, and, carefully followed out, marked out on
the ground an oblong slab.</p>
<p>"Did I not tell you," cried the enthusiastic doctor,
"that the passage could not end in this way?"</p>
<p>"I am really troubled," said Lord Evandale, in his
quaint, phlegmatic British fashion, "at disturbing the
last sleep of the poor unknown body which did expect
to rest in peace until the end of the world. The
dweller below would willingly dispense with our visit."</p>
<p>"The more so that a third party is lacking to make the
presentation formal," replied the doctor. "But do not
be anxious, my lord, I have lived long enough in the
days of the Pharaohs to present you to the illustrious
personage who inhabits this subterranean passage."</p>
<p>Crow-bars were applied to the narrow fissure, and
after a short time the stone moved and was raised. A<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
staircase with high, steep steps, sinking into darkness,
awaited the impatient travellers, who rushed down pell-mell.
A sloping gallery painted on both walls with
figures and hieroglyphs came next, then at the end of
the gallery some more steps leading to a short corridor,
a sort of vestibule to a hall in the same style as the first
one, but larger and upborne by six pillars cut out of
the living rock. The ornamentation was richer, and
the usual motives of funeral paintings were multiplied
on a yellow background. To the right and to the left
opened in the rock two small crypts or chambers filled
with funeral statuettes of enamelled ware, bronze, and
sycamore wood.</p>
<p>"We are in the antechamber of the hall where the
sarcophagus is bound to be!" cried Rumphius, his
clear gray eyes flashing with joy from below his spectacles,
which he had pushed back over his forehead.</p>
<p>"Up to the present," said Lord Evandale, "the
Greek has kept his word. We are the first living
men who have penetrated so far since the dead,
whoever he may be, was left with eternity and the
unknown in this tomb."</p>
<p>"Oh, he must be some great personage," replied the
doctor; "a king or a king's son, at the very least. I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
shall tell you later when I have deciphered his cartouche.
But first let us enter this hall, the finest,
the most important, which the Egyptians called the
Golden Hall."</p>
<p>Lord Evandale walked ahead, a few steps before the
less agile scholar, though perhaps the latter deferentially
wished to leave the pleasure of the discovery to
the young nobleman.</p>
<p>As he was about to step across the threshold, Lord
Evandale bent forward as if something unexpected had
struck him. Though accustomed not to manifest his
emotions, he was unable to repress a prolonged and
thoroughly British "Oh!" On the fine gray powder
which covered the ground showed very distinctly, with
the imprint of the toes and the great bone of the heel,
the shape of a human foot,—the foot of the last priest
or the last friend who had withdrawn, fifteen hundred
years before Christ, after having paid the last honours
to the dead. The dust, which in Egypt is as eternal
as granite, had moulded the print and preserved it for
more than thirty centuries, just as the hardened diluvian
mud has preserved the tracks of the animals which last
traversed it.</p>
<p>"See," said Evandale to Rumphius, "that human<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>
footprint which is directed towards the exit from the
hypogeum! In what narrow passage of the Libyan
chain rests the mummified body that made it?"</p>
<p>"Who knows?" replied the scholar. "In any
case, that light print, which a breath would have
blown away, has lasted longer than empires, than
religions and monuments believed eternal. The
noble dust of Alexander was used perhaps to stop
a bung-hole, as Hamlet says, but the footprint of
this unknown Egyptian remains on the threshold of
a tomb."</p>
<p>Urged by a curiosity which did not allow them much
time for recollection, the nobleman and the doctor
entered the hall, taking care, nevertheless, not to efface
the wondrous footprint. On entering, the impassible
Evandale felt a strange emotion; it seemed to him, as
Shakespeare says, that the time was out of joint. The
feeling of modern life vanished, he forgot Great Britain
and his name inscribed on the rolls of the peerage, his
seat in Lincolnshire, his mansion in the West End,
Hyde Park, Piccadilly, the Queen's Drawing-Room,
the Yacht Squadron, and all that constituted his English
existence. An invisible hand had turned upside down
the sand-glass of eternity, and the centuries which had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
fallen one by one, like the hours, in the solitude of the
night, were falling once more. History was as if it
were not: Moses was living, Pharaoh was reigning,
and he, Lord Evandale, felt embarrassed because he did
not wear his beard in ringlets, and had not an enamelled
neck-plate and a narrow vestment wrinkling in
folds upon his hips,—the only suitable dress in which
to be presented to a royal mummy. A sort of religious
horror filled him, although there was nothing sinister
about the place, as he violated this palace of death so
carefully protected against profanation. His attempt
seemed to him impious and sacrilegious, and he said to
himself, "Suppose this Pharaoh were to rise on his
couch and strike me with his sceptre." For one moment
he thought of letting fall the shroud half lifted
from the body of this antique, dead civilisation, but the
doctor, carried away by scientific enthusiasm, and not
a prey to such thoughts, shouted in a loud voice, "My
lord, my lord, the sarcophagus is intact!"</p>
<p>These words recalled Lord Evandale to reality.
By swift projection of his thought he traversed the
thirty-five hundred years which he had gone back in
his reverie, and he answered, "Indeed, dear doctor,
intact?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Oh, unexpected luck! oh, marvellous chance! oh,
wondrous find!" continued the doctor, in the excitement
of a scholarly joy.</p>
<p>Argyropoulos, on beholding the doctor's enthusiasm,
felt a pang of remorse,—the only kind of remorse that
he could feel,—at not having asked more than twenty-five
thousand francs. "I was a fool!" he said to himself.
"This shall not happen again. That nobleman
has robbed me."</p>
<p>In order to enable the strangers to enjoy the beauty
of the spectacle, the fellahs had lighted all their torches.
The sight was indeed strange and magnificent. The
galleries and halls which led to the sarcophagus hall
were flat-ceiled and not more than eight or ten feet
high; but the sanctuary, the one to which all these
labyrinths led, was of much greater proportions. Lord
Evandale and Dr. Rumphius remained dumb with admiration,
although they were already familiar with the
funereal splendours of Egyptian art. Thus lighted up,
the Golden Hall flamed, and for the first time, perhaps,
the colours of the paintings shone in all their brilliancy.
Red and blue, green and white, of virginal purity, brilliantly
fresh and amazingly clear, stood out from the
golden background of the figures and hieroglyphs, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
attracted the eye before the subjects which they formed
could be discerned. At first glance it looked like a
vast tapestry of the richest stuffs. The vault, some
thirty feet high, formed a sort of azure velarium bordered
with long yellow palm-leaves. On the walls the
symbolical globe spread its mighty wings and the royal
cartouches showed around. Farther on, Isis and Nephthys
waved their arms furnished with feathers like
wings; the uræus swelled its blue throat, the scarabæus
unfolded its wings, the animal-headed gods
pricked up their jackal ears, sharpened their hawk's-beaks,
wrinkled their baboon faces, and drew into their
shoulders their vulture or serpent necks as if they were
endowed with life. Mystical consecrated boats (baris)
passed by on their sledges drawn by figures in attitudes
of sadness, with angular gestures, or propelled by half-naked
oarsmen, they floated upon symbolical undulating
waves. Mourners kneeling, their hand placed on their
blue hair in token of grief, turned towards the catafalques,
while shaven priests, leopard-skin on shoulder,
burned perfumes in a spatula terminating in a hand
bearing a cup under the nose of the godlike dead.
Other personages offered to the funeral genii lotus in
bloom or in bud, bulbous plants, birds, pieces of ante<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span>lope,
and vases of liquors. Acephalous figures of Justice
brought souls before Osiris, whose arms were set
in inflexible contour, and who was assisted by the forty-two
judges of Amenti, seated in two rows and bearing
an ostrich-plume on their heads, the forms of which
were borrowed from every realm of zoölogy.</p>
<p>All these figures, drawn in hollowed lines in the
limestone and painted in the brightest colours, were
endowed with that motionless life, that frozen motion,
that mysterious intensity of Egyptian art, which was
hemmed in by the priestly rule, and which resembles a
gagged man trying to utter his secret.</p>
<p>In the centre of the hall rose, massive and splendid,
the sarcophagus, cut out of a solid block of black
basalt and closed by a cover of the same material,
carved in the shape of an arch. The four sides of the
funeral monolith were covered with figures and hieroglyphs
as carefully engraved as the intaglio of a gem,
although the Egyptians did not know the use of iron,
and the grain of basalt is hard enough to blunt the best-tempered
steel. Imagination loses itself when it tries
to discover the process by which that marvellous people
wrought on porphyry and granite as with a style
on wax tablets.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>At the angles of the sarcophagus were set four vases
of oriental alabaster, of most elegant and perfect outline,
the carved covers of which represented the man's
head of <SPAN name="amset" id="amset"></SPAN>Amset, the monkey head of Hapi, the jackal
head of Tuamutef, and the hawk head of Kebhsnauf.
The vases contained the visceræ of the mummy
enclosed in the sarcophagus. At the head of the tomb
an effigy of Osiris with plaited beard seemed to watch
over the dead. Two coloured statues of women stood
right and left of the tomb, supporting, with one hand
a square box on their head, and holding in the other
a vase for ablutions which they rested on their hip.
The one was dressed in a simple white skirt clinging
to the hips and held up by crossed braces; the other,
more richly costumed, was wrapped in a sort of narrow
shift, covered with scales alternately red and green. By
the side of the first there were three water-jars, originally
filled with Nile water, which, as it evaporated, had
left its mud, and a plate holding some alimentary paste,
now dried up. By the side of the second, two small
ships, like the model ships made in seaports, which
reproduced accurately, the one the minutest details of
the boats destined to bear the bodies from Diospolis to
Memnonia, the other the symbolical boat in which the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span>
soul is carried to the regions of the West. Nothing
was forgotten,—neither the masts, nor the rudder
formed of one long sweep, nor the pilot, nor the
oarsmen, nor the mummy surrounded by mourners
and lying under the shrine on a bed with feet formed
of lion's claws, nor the allegorical figures of the funeral
divinities fulfilling their sacred functions. Both
the boats and the figures were painted in brilliant
colours, and on the two sides of the prow, beak-like
as the poop, showed the great Osiris' eye, made longer
still by the use of antimony. The bones and skull
of an ox scattered here and there showed that a victim
had been offered up as a scapegoat to the Fate which
might have disturbed the repose of the dead. Coffers
painted and bedizened with hieroglyphs were placed
on the tomb; reed tables yet bore the final offerings.
Nothing had been touched in this palace of death
since the day when the mummy in its cartonnage and
its two coffins had been placed upon its basalt couch.
The worm of the sepulchre, which can find a way
through the closest biers, had itself retreated, driven
back by the bitter scent of the bitumen and the aromatic
essences.</p>
<p>"Shall I open the sarcophagus?" said Argyropou<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span>los,
after Lord Evandale and Doctor Rumphius had
had time to admire the beauty of the Golden Hall.</p>
<p>"Unquestionably," replied the nobleman; "but take
care not to chip the edges of the cover as you put in
your crow-bars, for I propose to carry off the tomb
and present it to the British Museum."</p>
<p>The whole company bent their efforts to displacing
the monolith. Wooden wedges were carefully driven
in, and presently the huge stone was moved and slid
down the props prepared to receive it. The sarcophagus
having been opened, showed the first bier hermetically
sealed. It was a coffer adorned with paintings
and gilding, representing a sort of shrine with symmetrical
designs, lozenges, quadrilles, palm leaves, and lines
of hieroglyphs. The cover was opened, and Rumphius,
who was bending over the sarcophagus, uttered a cry
of surprise when he discovered the contents of the
coffin, having recognised the sex of the mummy by the
absence of the Osiris beard and the shape of the cartonnage.
The Greek himself appeared amazed. His
long experience in excavations enabled him to understand
the strangeness of such a find. The valley of
Biban el Molûk contains the tombs of kings only: the
necropolis of the queens is situated farther away, in an<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span>other
mountain gorge. The tombs of the queens are
very simple, and usually consist of two or three passage-ways
and one or two rooms. Women in the East
have always been considered as inferior to men, even in
death. Most of these tombs, which were broken into
at a very distant period, were used as receptacles for
shapeless mummies carelessly embalmed, which still exhibit
traces of leprosy and elephantiasis. How did this
woman's coffin come to occupy this royal sarcophagus,
in the centre of this cryptic palace worthy of the most
illustrious and most powerful of the Pharaohs?</p>
<p>"This," said the doctor to Lord Evandale, "upsets all
my notions and all my theories. It overthrows the system
most carefully built upon the Egyptian funeral rites,
which nevertheless have been so carefully followed out
during thousands of years. No doubt we have come
upon some obscure point, some forgotten mystery of
history. A woman did ascend the throne of the Pharaohs
and did govern Egypt. She was called Tahoser,
as we learn from the cartouches engraved upon older
inscriptions hammered away. She usurped the tomb
as she usurped the throne. Or perhaps some other
ambitious woman, of whom history has preserved no
trace, renewed her attempt."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"No one is better able to solve this difficult problem
than you," said Lord Evandale. "We will carry this
box full of secrets to our boat, where you will, at your
leisure, decipher this historic document and read the
riddle set by these hawks, scarabæi, kneeling figures,
serrated lines, winged uræus, and spatula hands, which
you read as readily as did the great Champollion."</p>
<p>The fellahs, under the orders of Argyropoulos, carried
off the huge coffer on their shoulders, and the
mummy, performing in an inverse direction the funeral
travel it had accomplished in the days of Moses, in a
painted and gilded bari preceded by a long procession,
was embarked upon the sandal which had brought the
travellers, soon reached the vessel moored on the Nile,
and was placed in the cabin, which was not unlike, so
little do forms change in Egypt, the shrine of the
funeral boat.</p>
<p>Argyropoulos, having arranged about the box all the
objects which had been found near it, stood respectfully
at the cabin door and appeared to be waiting.
Lord Evandale understood, and ordered his valet to
pay him the twenty-five thousand francs.</p>
<p>The open bier was placed upon rests in the centre
of the cabin; it shone as brilliantly as if the colours<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span>
had been put on the day before, and framed in the
mummy, moulded within its cartonnage, the workmanship
of which was remarkably fine and rich. Never
had ancient Egypt more carefully wrapped up one of
her children for the eternal sleep. Although no shape
was indicated by the funeral Hermes, ending in a
sheath from which stood out alone the shoulders and
the head, one could guess there was under that thick
envelope a young and graceful form. The gilded
mask, with its long eyes outlined with black and brightened
with enamel, the nose with its delicate nostrils,
the rounded cheek-bones, the half-open lips smiling
with an indescribable, sphinx-like smile, the chin
somewhat short in curve but of extreme beauty of
contour, presented the purest type of the Egyptian
ideal, and testified by a thousand small, characteristic
details which art cannot invent, to the individual character
of the portrait. Numberless fine plaits of hair,
tressed with cords and separated by bandeaux, fell in
opulent masses on either side of the face. A lotus
stem, springing from the back of the neck, bowed over
the head and opened its azure calyx over the dead, cold
brow, completing with a funeral cone this rich and
elegant head-dress.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>A broad necklace, composed of fine enamels cloisonnés
with gold and formed of several rows, lay
upon the lower portion of the neck, and allowed to
be seen the clean, firm contour of two virgin breasts
like two golden cups.</p>
<p>The sacred ram-headed bird, bearing between its
green horns the red disc of the setting sun and supported
by two serpents wearing the pschent and swelling
out their hoods, showed on the bosom of the figure
its monstrous form full of symbolic meaning. Lower
down, in the spaces left free by the crossed zones, and
rayed with brilliant colours representing bandages, the
vulture of Phra, crowned with a globe, with outspread
wings, the body covered with symmetrically arranged
feathers, and the tail spread out fanwise, held
in its talons the huge Tau, emblem of immortality.
The funeral gods, green-faced, with the mouths
of monkeys or jackals, held out with a gesture hieratic
in its stiffness the whip, the crook, and the sceptre.
The eye of Osiris opened its red ball outlined with
antimony. Celestial snakes swelled their hoods around
the sacred discs; symbolical figures projected their
feathered arms; and the two goddesses of the Beginning
and the End, their hair powdered with blue dust,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span>
bare down to below the breasts and the rest of the
body wrapped in a close-fitting skirt, knelt in Egyptian
fashion on green and red cushions adorned with
heavy tufts.</p>
<p>A longitudinal band of hieroglyphs, springing from
the belt and running down to the feet, contained no
doubt some formal funeral ritual, or rather, the names
and titles of the deceased, a problem which Dr. Rumphius
promised himself to solve later.</p>
<p>The character of the drawing, the boldness of the
lines, the brilliancy of the colours in all these paintings
denoted in the plainest manner to a practised eye that
they belonged to the finest period of Egyptian art.
When the English nobleman and his companion had
sufficiently studied this outer case, they drew the
cartonnage from the box and set it up against the
side of the cabin, where the funeral form, with its
gilded mask, presented a strange spectacle, standing
upright like a materialised spectre and with a seeming
attitude of life, after having preserved so long the
horizontal attitude of death on a basalt bed in the
heart of the mountain, opened up by impious curiosity.
The soul of the deceased, which had reckoned on
eternal rest and which had taken such care to preserve<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
its remains from violation, must have been moved,
beyond the worlds, in the circuit of its travels and
transmigrations.</p>
<p>Dr. Rumphius, armed with a chisel and a hammer,
to separate the two parts of the cartonnage of the
mummy, looked like one of those funeral genii which
wear a bestial mask and which are seen in the paintings
of the hypogea crowding around the dead in the
performance of some frightful and mysterious rite;
the clean profile of Lord Evandale, calm and attentive,
made him look like the divine Osiris awaiting
the soul to be judged.</p>
<p>The operation having been at length completed—for
the doctor wished not to scale off the gilding,—the
box, resting on the ground, was separated into
two parts like the casing of a cast, and the mummy
appeared in all the brilliancy of its death toilet,
coquettishly adorned as if it had wished to charm
the genii of the subterranean realms. On opening the
case, a faint, delightful, aromatic odour of cedar liquor,
of sandal powder, of myrrh and cinnamon spread
through the cabin of the vessel; for the body had not
been gummed up and hardened with the black bitumen
used in embalming the bodies of ordinary persons, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span>
all the skill of the embalmers, the former inhabitants
of Memnonia, seemed to have been directed to the
preservation of these precious remains.</p>
<p>The head was enveloped in a network of narrow
bands of fine linen, through which the face showed
faintly. The essences in which they had been steeped
had dyed the tissue a beautiful tawny tint. Over the
breast a network of fine tubes of blue glass, very like
the long jet beads which are used to embroider Spanish
bodices, with little golden drops wherever the tubes
crossed, fell down to the feet and formed a pearly
shroud worthy of a queen. The statuettes of the
four gods of Amenti in hammered gold shone brilliantly,
and were symmetrically arranged along the
upper edge of the network, which ended below in
a fringe of most tasteful ornaments. Between the
statuettes of the funeral gods was a golden plate,
above which a lapis-lazuli scarabæus spread out its
long golden wings. Under the mummy's head was
placed a rich mirror of polished metal, as if it had
been desired to give the dead soul an opportunity of
beholding the spectre of its beauty during the long
night of the tomb. By the mirror lay a coffer of
enamelled ware, of most precious workmanship, which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span>
contained a necklace composed of ivory rings alternating
with beads, gold, lapis-lazuli, and cornelian.
By the side of the beauty had been placed also a
narrow, square sandal-wood basin in which, during
her lifetime, the dead woman had performed her
perfumed ablutions. Three vases of wavy alabaster
fastened to the bier, as was also the mummy, by
a layer of natron, contained, the first two, essences,
the scent of which could still be noticed, and the
third, antimony powder and a small spatula for the
purpose of colouring the edge of the eyelids and
extending the outer angle according to the antique
Egyptian usage, still practised at the present time by
Eastern women.</p>
<p>"What a touching custom!" said Dr. Rumphius,
excited by the sight of these treasures; "what a
touching custom it was to bury with a young woman
all her pretty toilet articles! For it is a young woman
unquestionably that these linen bands, yellow with
time and with essences, envelop. Compared with
the Egyptians, we are downright barbarians; hurried
on by our brutal way of living, we have lost the
delicate sense of death. How much tenderness, how
much regard, how much love do not these minute<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</SPAN></span>
cares reveal, these infinite precautions, these useless
caresses bestowed upon a senseless body,—that struggle
to snatch from destruction an adored form and to
restore it intact to the soul on the day of the supreme
reunion!"</p>
<p>"Perhaps," replied Lord Evandale, very thoughtful,
"our civilisation, which we think so highly developed,
is, after all, but a great decadence which has lost even
the historical remembrance of the gigantic societies
which have disappeared. We are stupidly proud of
a few ingenious pieces of mechanism which we have
recently invented, and we forget the colossal splendours
and the vast works impossible to any other
nation, which are found in the ancient land of the
Pharaohs. We have steam, but steam is less powerful
than the force which built the Pyramids, dug out
hypogea, carved mountains into the shapes of sphinxes
and obelisks, sealed halls with one great stone which
all our engines could not move, cut out monolithic
chapels, and saved frail human remains from annihilation,—so
deep a sense of eternity did it already
possess."</p>
<p>"Oh, the Egyptians," said Dr. Rumphius, smiling,
"were wonderful architects, amazing artists, and great<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</SPAN></span>
scholars. A priest of Memphis and of Thebes could
have taught even our German scholars; and as
regards symbolism, they were greater than any symbolists
of our day. But we shall succeed eventually
in deciphering their hieroglyphs and penetrating their
mysteries. The great Champollion has made out
their alphabet; we shall easily read their granite books.
Meanwhile, let us strip, as delicately as possible, this
young beauty who is more than three thousand years
of age."</p>
<p>"Poor woman!" murmured the young lord. "Profane
eyes will now behold the mysterious charms
which love itself perhaps never saw. Truly, under
the empty pretext of scientific pursuit, we are as
barbarous as the Persians of Cambyses, and if I
were not afraid of driving to despair this worthy
scholar, I should enclose you again, without having
stripped off your last veil, within the triple box of
your bier."</p>
<p>Dr. Rumphius raised from the casing the mummy,
which was no heavier than a child's body, and began
to unwrap it with motherly skill and lightness of
touch. He first of all undid the outer envelope of
linen, sewed together and impregnated with palm<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</SPAN></span>
wine, and the broad bands which here and there
girdled the body. Then he took hold of the end
of a thin, narrow band, the infinite windings of which
enclosed the limbs of the young Egyptian. He rolled
up the band on itself as cleverly as the most skilful
embalmer of the City of the Dead, following it up
in all its meanderings and circumvolutions. As he
progressed in his work, the mummy, freed from its
envelope, like a statue which a sculptor blocks out
of the marble, appeared more slender and exquisite
in form. The bandage having been unrolled, another
narrower one was seen, intended to bind the body
more closely. It was of such fine linen, and so finely
woven, that it was comparable to modern cambric
and muslin. This bandage followed accurately every
outline, imprisoning the fingers and the toes, moulding
like a mask the features of the face, which was
visible through the thin tissue. The aromatic balm
in which it had been steeped had stiffened it, and as
it came away under the fingers of the doctor, it gave
out a little dry sound like that of paper that is being
crushed or torn. There remained but one turn to
be taken off, and familiar though he was with such
work, Dr. Rumphius stopped for a moment, either<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</SPAN></span>
through respect for the dead, or through that feeling
which prevents a man from breaking open a letter,
from opening a door, from raising a veil which hides
a secret that he burns to learn. He ascribed his
momentary pause to fatigue, and as a matter of fact,
the perspiration was dripping from his forehead without
his thinking of wiping it with his great blue-checked
handkerchief; but fatigue had nothing to do
with it. Meanwhile the dead form showed through
the fine, gauze-like stuff, and some gold work shone
faintly through it as well.</p>
<p>The last wrapping taken off, the young woman
showed in the chaste nudity of her lovely form, preserving,
in spite of so many centuries that had passed
away, the fulness of her contours, and the easy
grace of her pure lines. Her pose, an infrequent one
in the case of mummies, was that of the Venus of
Medici, as if the embalmers had wished to save this
beautiful body from the set attitude of death and to
soften the inflexible rigidity of the cadaver.</p>
<p>A cry of admiration was uttered at the same time
by Rumphius and Evandale at the sight of the marvel.
Never did a Greek or Roman statue present a more
beautiful appearance. The peculiar characteristics of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</SPAN></span>
the Egyptian ideal gave indeed to this lovely body, so
miraculously preserved, a slenderness and a grace
lacking in antique marbles,—the long hands, the
high-bred, narrow feet, the nails shining like agate,
the slender waist, the shape of the breasts, small and
turned up like a sandal beneath the veil which
enveloped it, the slightly protruding contour of the
hip, the roundness of the thigh, the somewhat long
leg recalling the slender grace of the musicians and
dancers represented on the frescoes of funeral repasts
in the Thebes hypogea. It was a shape still childish
in its gracefulness, yet possessing already all the perfections
of a woman which Egyptian art expresses
with such tender suavity, whether it paints the walls
of the passages with a brush, or whether it patiently
carves the hard basalt.</p>
<p>As a general rule mummies which have been filled
with bitumen and natron resemble black simulacra
carved in ebony; corruption cannot attack them, but
the appearance of life is wholly lacking; the bodies
have not returned to the dust whence they came,
but they have been petrified in a hideous shape,
which one cannot contemplate without disgust and
terror. In this case, the body, carefully prepared by<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span>
surer, longer, and more costly processes, had preserved
the elasticity of the flesh, the grain of the
skin, and almost its natural colour. The skin, of a
light brown, had the golden tint of a new Florentine
bronze, and the amber, warm tone which is admired
in the paintings of Giorgione and Titian covered
with a smoky varnish, was not very different from
what must have been the complexion of the young
Egyptian during her lifetime. She seemed to be
asleep rather than dead. The eyelids, still fringed
with their long lashes, allowed eyes lustrous with the
humid gleam of life to shine between their lines of
antimony. One could have sworn they were about
to shake off, as a light dream, their sleep of thirty
centuries. The nose, delicate and fine, preserved its
pure outline; no depression deformed the cheeks,
which were as round as the side of a vase; the mouth,
coloured with a faint blush, had preserved its imperceptible
lines, and on the lips, voluptuously moulded,
fluttered a melancholy and mysterious smile, full of
gentleness, sadness, and charm,—that tender and
resigned smile which pouts so prettily the lips of the
adorable heads which surmount the Canopean vases
in the Louvre.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Around the forehead, low and smooth in accordance
with the laws of antique beauty, was massed jet-black
hair divided and plaited into a multitude of fine tresses
which fell on either shoulder. Twenty golden pins
stuck into the tresses, like flowers in a ball head-dress,
studded with brilliant points the thick dark hair
which might have been thought artificial, so abundant
was it. Two great earrings, round discs resembling
small bucklers, shimmered with yellow light by the
side of the brown cheeks. A magnificent necklace,
composed of three rows of divinities and amulets in
gold and precious stones, encircled the neck of the
coquettish mummy, and lower down upon her breast
hung two other collars, the pearl, gold, lapis-lazuli, and
cornelian rosettes of which alternated symmetrically
with the most perfect taste. A girdle of nearly the
same design enclosed her waist with a belt of gold and
gems. A double bracelet of gold and cornelian beads
adorned her left wrist, and on the index of the left
hand shone a very small scarabæus of golden cloisonné
enamel, which formed a seal ring and was held by a
gold thread most marvellously plaited.</p>
<p>Strange were the sensations of the two men as they
found themselves face to face with a human being who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span>
had lived in the days when history was yet young and
was collecting the stories told by tradition; face to face
with a body contemporary with Moses, which yet preserved
the exquisite form of youth; as they touched the
gentle little hand impregnated with perfumes, which a
Pharaoh perhaps had kissed; as they fingered the hair,
more durable than empire, more solid than granite
monuments. At the sight of the lovely dead girl, the
young nobleman felt the retrospective desire often inspired
by the sight of a statue or a painting representing
a woman of past days famous for her beauty. It
seemed to him that he would have loved, had he
lived three thousand years earlier, that beauty which
nothingness had refused to destroy; and the sympathetic
thought perhaps reached the restless soul that
fluttered above its profaned frame.</p>
<p>Far less poetic than the young nobleman, Dr. Rumphius
was making the inventory of the gems, without,
however, taking them off; for Evandale had ordered
that the mummy should not be deprived of this last
frail consolation. To take away gems from a woman,
even dead, is to kill her a second time. Suddenly a
papyrus roll concealed between the side and arm of the
mummy caught the doctor's eye.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Oh!" said he, "this is no doubt a copy of the
funeral ritual placed in the inner coffin and written
with more or less care according to the wealth and
rank of the person."</p>
<p>He unrolled the delicate band with infinite precautions.
As soon as the first lines showed, he exhibited
surprise, for he did not recognise the ordinary figures
and signs of the ritual. In vain he sought in the usual
places for the vignettes representing the funeral, which
serve as a frontispiece to such papyri, nor did he find
the Litany of the Hundred Names of Osiris, nor the
soul's passport, nor the petition to the gods of Amenti.
Drawings of a peculiar kind illustrated entirely different
scenes connected with human life, and not with the
voyage of the shade to the world beyond. Chapters
and paragraphs seemed to be indicated by characters
written in red, evidently for the purpose of distinguishing
them from the remainder of the text, which was
in black, and of calling the attention of the reader to
interesting points. An inscription placed at the head
appeared to contain the title of the work, and the
name of the grammat who had written or copied it,—so
much, at least, did the sagacious intuition of the
doctor make out at the first glance.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Undoubtedly, my lord, we have robbed Master
Argyropoulos," said he to Evandale, as he pointed out
the differences between the papyrus and the usual ritual.
"This is the first time that an Egyptian manuscript
has been found to contain anything else than
hieratic formulæ. I am bound to decipher it, even
if it costs me my sight, even if my beard grows
thrice around my desk. Yes, I shall ferret out your
secret, mysterious Egypt! Yes, I shall learn your
story, you lovely dead; for that papyrus pressed close
to your heart by your lovely arm surely contains
it. And I shall be covered with glory, become
the equal of Champollion, and make Lepsius die
of jealousy."</p>
<p>The nobleman and the doctor returned to Europe.
The mummy, wrapped up again in all its bandages and
replaced within its three cases, rests within Lord Evandale's
park in Lincolnshire, in the basalt sarcophagus
which he brought at great expense from Biban el
Molûk and which he did not give to the British
Museum. Sometimes Lord Evandale leans upon the
sarcophagus, sinks into a deep reverie, and sighs.</p>
<p>After three years of unflagging application, Dr.
Rumphius succeeded in deciphering the mysterious<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span>
papyrus, save in some damaged parts, and in others
which contained unknown signs. And it is his translation
into Latin—which we have turned into French—that
you are about to read, under the name, "The
Romance of a Mummy."</p>
<hr />
<h1 style="font-size: 170%; margin-bottom: 1em;"><i>The Romance of a Mummy</i></h1>
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="I" id="I"></SPAN>I</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">O</span><span class="upper">ph</span> (that is the name of the city which<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span>
antiquity called Thebes of the Hundred
Gates, or Diospolis Magna), seemed
asleep under the burning beams of the blazing sun. It
was noon. A white light fell from the pale sky upon
the baked earth; the sand, shimmering and scintillating,
shone like burnished metal; shadows there were
none, save a narrow, bluish line at the foot of buildings,
like the inky line with which an architect draws
upon papyrus; the houses, whose walls sloped well
inwards, glowed like bricks in an oven; every door
was closed, and no one showed at the windows, which
were closed with blinds of reeds.</p>
<p>At the end of the deserted streets and above the terraces
stood out in the hot, transparent air the tips of
obelisks, the tops of pylons, the entablatures of palaces
and temples, whose capitals, formed of human faces or
lotus flowers, showed partially, breaking the horizontal
lines of the roofs and rising like reefs amid the mass<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span>
of private buildings. Here and there above a garden
wall shot up the scaly trunk of a palm tree ending in a
plume of leaves, not one of which stirred, for never a
breath blew. Acacias, mimosas, and Pharaoh fig-trees
formed a cascade of foliage that cast a narrow blue
shadow upon the dazzling brilliancy of the ground.
These green spots refreshed and enlivened the solemn
aridity of the picture, which but for them would have
been that of a dead city.</p>
<p>A few slaves of the Nahasi race, black complexioned,
monkey-faced, with bestial gait, alone braving
the heat of the day, were bearing to their masters'
homes the water drawn from the Nile in jars that were
hung from a stick placed on their shoulder. Although
they wore nothing but striped drawers wrinkling on
their hips, their torsos, brilliant and polished like basalt,
streamed with perspiration as they quickened their
pace lest they should scorch the thick soles of their
feet on the pavements, which were as hot as the floor
of a vapour bath. The boatmen were asleep in the
cabins of their boats moored to the brick wall of the
river quay, sure that no one would waken them to cross
to the other bank, where lay the Memnonia quarter.
In the highest heaven wheeled vultures, whose shrill<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span>
call, that at any other time would have been lost in
the rumour of the city, could be plainly heard in the
general silence. On the cornices of the monuments
two or three ibises, one leg drawn up under their body,
their long bill resting on their breast, seemed to be
meditating deeply, and stood out against the calcined,
whitish blue which formed the background.</p>
<p>And yet all did not sleep. From the walls of
a great palace whose entablature, adorned with palmettoes,
made a long, straight line against the flaming sky,
there came a faint murmur of music. These bursts
of harmony spread now and then through the diaphanous
shimmer of the atmosphere, and the eye might
almost have followed their sonorous undulations.
Deadened by the thickness of the walls, the music
was strangely sweet. It was a song voluptuously
sad, wearily languorous, expressing bodily fatigue
and the discouragement of passion. It was full of
the eternal weariness of the luminous azure, of the
indescribable helplessness of hot countries. As the
slave passed by the wall, forgetting the master's lash
he would suspend his walk and stop to breathe in
that song, impregnated with all the secret homesickness
of the soul, which made him think of his far<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span>
distant country, of his lost love, and of the insurmountable
obstacles of fate. Whence came that song,
that sigh softly breathed in the silence of the city?
What restless soul was awake when all around was
asleep?</p>
<p>The straight lines and the monumental appearance
of the façade of the palace, which looked upon the face
of the square, were typical of the civil and religious
architecture of Egypt. The dwelling could belong
to a princely or a priestly family only. So much was
readily seen from the materials of which it was
built, the careful construction, and the richness of the
ornamentation.</p>
<p>In the centre of the façade rose a great building
flanked by two wings surmounted by a roof in the
form of a truncated triangle. A broad, deeply cut
moulding of striking profile ended the wall, in which
was visible no opening other than a door placed, not
symmetrically in the centre, but in the corner of the
building, no doubt to allow ample space for the staircase
within. A cornice in the same style as the
entablature surmounted this single door. The building
projected from a wall on which rested like balconies
two stories of galleries, resembling open porticoes,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span>
composed of pillars singularly fantastic in style. The
bases of these pillars represented huge lotus-buds, from
the capsule of which, as it opened its dentelated rim,
sprang the shaft like a giant pistil, swelling below,
more slender at the top, girdled under the capital
by a collar of mouldings, and ending in a half-blown
flower. Between the broad bays were small windows
with their sashes in two parts filled with stained
glass. Above ran a terraced roof flagged with huge
slabs of stone.</p>
<p>On the outer galleries great clay vases, rubbed
inside with bitter almonds and closed with leaves,
resting upon wooden pedestals, cooled the Nile water
in the draughts of air. Tables bore pyramids of fruits,
sheaves of flowers and drinking-cups of different
shapes; for the Egyptians love to eat in the open
air, and take their meals, so to speak, upon the public
street. On either side of the main building stretched
others rising to the height of one story only, formed
of a row of pillars engaged half-way up in a wall
divided into panels in such a manner as to form
around the house a shelter closed to the sun and the
gaze of the outer world. All these buildings, enlivened
by ornamental paintings,—for the capitals,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span>
the shafts, the cornices, and the panels were coloured,—produced
a delightful and superb effect.</p>
<p>The door opened into a vast court surrounded by
a quadrilateral portico supported by pillars, the capitals
of which showed on each face a woman's head, with
the ears of a cow, long, narrow eyes, slightly flattened
noses, and a broad smile; each wore a thick red
cushion and supported a cap of hard sandstone. Under
the portico opened the doors of the apartments, into
which the light came softened by the shade of the
galleries. In the centre of the court sparkled in the
sunshine a pool of water, edged with a margin of
Syêné granite. On the surface of the pond spread
the heart-shaped leaves of the lotus, the rose and
blue flowers of which were half closed as if overcome
by the heat in spite of the water in which they were
plunged. In the flower-beds around the pool were
planted flowers arranged fanlike upon small hillocks,
and along the narrow walks laid out between the beds
walked carefully two tame storks, which from time
to time snapped their bills and fluttered their wings
as if about to take flight. At the angles of the court
the twisted trunks of four huge persæas exhibited
a mass of metallic green foliage. At the end a sort<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span>
of pylon broke the portico, and its large bay, framing
in the blue air, showed at the end of a long avenue
a summer kiosk of rich and elegant design. In the
compartments traced on the right and on the left
of the arbour by dwarf trees cut into the shape of
cones, bloomed pomegranates, sycamores, tamarinds,
periplocas, mimosas, and acacias, the flowers of which
shone like coloured lights on the deep green of the
foliage which overhung the walls.</p>
<p>The faint, sweet music of which we have spoken
proceeded from one of the rooms which opened into
the interior portico. Although the sun shone full
into the court, the ground of which blazed in the flood
of light, a blue, cool shadow, transparently intense,
filled the apartment, in which the eye, blinded by the
dazzling reverberation, sought to distinguish shapes and
at last made them out when it had become accustomed
to the semi-light. A tender lilac tone overspread the
walls of the room, around which ran a cornice painted
in brilliant tones and enriched with small golden palm-branches.
Architectural designs skilfully combined
formed on the plain spaces panels which framed in
ornaments, sheaves of flowers, birds, diapers of contrasted
colours, and scenes of domestic life.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>At the back, near the wall, stood a strangely shaped
bed, representing an ox wearing ostrich-feathers with a
disc between its horns, broadening its back to receive
the sleeper upon a thin red mattress, and stiffening
by way of feet its black legs ending in green hoofs,
while its curled-up tail was divided into two tufts.
This quadruped bed, this piece of animal furniture,
would have seemed strange in any other country than
Egypt, where lions and jackals are also turned into
beds by the fancy of the workmen.</p>
<p>In front of the couch was placed a stool with four
steps, which gave access to it: at the head, a pillow
of Oriental alabaster, destined to support the neck
without deranging the head-dress, was hollowed out
in the shape of a half moon. In the centre a table
of precious wood carved with exceeding care, stood
upon a richly carved pedestal. A number of objects
were placed upon it: a pot of lotus flowers, a mirror
of polished bronze on an ivory stand, a vase of moss
agate filled with antimony powder, a perfume spatula
of sycamore wood in the shape of a woman bare
to the waist stretching out as if she were swimming,
and appearing to attempt to hold her box above
the water.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Near the table, on an armchair of gilded wood
picked out with red, with blue feet, and with lions
for arms, covered with a thick cushion of purple
stuff starred with gold and crossed with black, the
end of which fell over the back, was seated a young
woman, or rather, a young girl of marvellous beauty,
in a graceful attitude of nonchalance and melancholy.</p>
<p>Her features, of ideal delicacy, were of the purest
Egyptian type, and sculptors must have often thought
of her as they carved the images of Isis and Hathor,
even at the risk of breaking the rigorous hieratic
laws. Golden and rosy reflections coloured her warm
pallor, in which showed her long black eyes, made
to appear larger by lines of antimony, and full of a
languorous, inexpressible sadness. Those great dark
eyes, with the eyebrows strongly marked and the
eyelids coloured, gave a strange expression to the
dainty, almost childish face. The half-parted lips,
somewhat thick, of the colour of a pomegranate
flower, showed a gleam of polished white and preserved
the involuntary and almost painful smile which
imparts so sympathetic a charm to the Egyptian face.
The nose, slightly depressed at the root, where the
eyebrows melted one into another in a velvety shadow,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</SPAN></span>
rose in such pure lines, such delicate outlines, and
with such well-cut nostrils that any woman or goddess
would have been satisfied with it in spite of its slightly
African profile. The chin was rounded with marvellous
elegance and shone like polished ivory. The
cheeks, rather rounder than those of the beauties of
other nations, added to the face an expression of
extreme sweetness and gracefulness.</p>
<p>This lovely girl wore for head-dress a sort of helmet
formed of a Guinea fowl, the half-closed wings of
which fell upon her temples, and the pretty, small
head of which came down to the centre of her brow,
while the tail, marked with white spots, spread out
on the back of her neck. A clever combination of
enamel imitated to perfection the plumage of the bird.
Ostrich-feathers, planted in the helmet like an aigrette,
completed this head-dress, which was reserved for young
virgins, as the vulture, the symbol of maternity, is
worn only by women. The hair of the young girl,
of a brilliant black, plaited into tresses, hung in masses
on either side of her smooth, round cheeks, and fell
down to her shoulders. In the shadowy masses of
the hair shone, like suns in a cloud, great discs of gold
worn as earrings. From the head-dress hung grace<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</SPAN></span>fully
down the back two long bands of stuff with
fringed ends. A broad pectoral ornament, composed
of several rows of enamels, gold and cornelian beads,
and fishes and lizards of stamped gold, covered her
breast from the lower part of the neck to the upper
part of the bosom, which showed pink and white
through the thin warp of the calasiris. The dress,
of a large checkered pattern, was fastened under the
bosom with a girdle with long ends, and ended in a
broader border of transverse stripes edged with a fringe.
Triple bracelets of lapis-lazuli beads, divided here and
there by golden balls, encircled her slender wrists,
delicate as those of a child; and her lovely, narrow
feet with long, supple toes, were shod with sandals
of white kid stamped with designs in gold, and rested
on a cedar stool incrusted with red and green enamel.</p>
<p>Near Tahoser (for this was the name of the young
Egyptian) knelt, one leg drawn back under the thigh
and the other forming an obtuse angle, in the attitude
which the painters love to reproduce on the walls of
hypogea, a female harpist placed upon a sort of low
pedestal, destined no doubt to increase the resonance
of the instrument. A piece of stuff striped with
coloured bands, the ends of which, thrown back, hung<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</SPAN></span>
in fluted lappets, bound her hair and framed in her
face, smiling mysteriously like that of a sphinx. A
narrow dress, or rather sheath, of transparent gauze
outlined closely the youthful contours of her elegant,
slender form. Her dress, cut below the breast, left
her shoulders, chest, and arms free in their chaste
nudity. A support, fixed to the pedestal on which
was placed the player, and traversed by a bolt in the
shape of a key, formed a rest for the harp, the weight
of which, but for that, would have borne wholly upon
the shoulders of the young woman. The harp,
which ended in a sort of keyboard, rounded like a shell
and covered with ornamental paintings, bore at its
upper end a sculptured head of Hathor surmounted
by an ostrich-plume. The nine cords were stretched
diagonally and quivered under the long, slender hands
of the harpist, who often, in order to reach the lower
notes, bent with a sinuous motion as if she were about
to float on the waves of music and accompany the
vanishing harmony.</p>
<p>Behind her stood another musician, who might have
been thought nude but for the faint white haze which
toned the bronze colour of her body. She played on
a sort of guitar with an exceedingly long handle, the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</SPAN></span>
three cords of which were coquettishly adorned at
their extremity with coloured tufts. One of her arms,
slender yet round, grasped the top of the handle with
a sculptural pose, while the other upheld the instrument
and touched the strings.</p>
<p>A third young woman, whose enormous mass of
hair made her look all the more slender, beat time
upon a tympanum formed of a wooden frame slightly
curved inward, on which was stretched an onager-skin.</p>
<p>The harpist sang a plaintive melody, accompanied
in unison, inexpressibly sad. The words breathed
vague aspirations, vague regrets, a hymn of love to
the unknown, and timid plaints of the rigour of the
gods and the cruelty of fate. <SPAN name="Pg_80" id="Pg_80">Tahoser, leaning upon
one of the lions of her armchair, her hand under her
cheek and her finger curved against her temple,
listened with inattention more apparent than real, to
the song of the musician.</SPAN> At times a sigh made her
breast heave and raised the enamels of her necklace.
Sometimes a moist light caused by a growing tear
shone in her eye between the lines of antimony, and
her tiny teeth bit her lower lip as if she were fighting
her own emotion.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Satou," she said, clapping her delicate hands
together to silence the musician, who at once deadened
with her palm the vibrations of the harp, "your song
enervates me, makes me languid, and would make me
giddy like overpowerful perfumes. The strings of
your harp seem to be twisted with the vibrations of
my heart and sound painfully within my breast. You
make me almost ashamed, for it is my soul that
mourns in your music. Who can have told you my
secrets?"</p>
<p>"Mistress," replied the harpist, "the poet and the
musician know everything; the gods reveal hidden
things to them; they express in their rhythm what
the thought scarcely conceives and what the tongue
confusedly stammers. But if my song saddens you,
I can, by changing its mode, bring brighter ideas to
your mind." And Satou struck the cords of her harp
with joyous energy, and with a quick measure which
the tympanum marked with more rapid strokes.</p>
<p>After this prelude she began a song praising the
charms of wine, the intoxication of perfumes, and the
delight of the dance. Some of the women, who, seated
upon folding-stools formed of the necks of blue swans,
whose yellow bills clasped the frame of the seat, or<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</SPAN></span>
kneeling upon scarlet cushions filled with the down of
thistles, had assumed under the influence of Satou's
music poses of utter languor, shivered; their nostrils
swelled; they breathed in the magic rhythm; they
rose to their feet, and, moved by an irresistible impulse,
began to dance. A head-dress, in the shape of a
helmet cut out around the ear, enclosed their hair,
some locks of which escaped and fell upon their brown
cheeks, which the ardour of the dance soon turned
rosy. Broad golden circles beat upon their necks,
and through their long gauze shifts, embroidered at
the top with pearls, showed their golden bronze bodies
which moved with the ease of an adder. They
twisted, turned, swayed their hips, bound with a narrow
black girdle, threw themselves back, bowed down,
inclined their heads to right and left as if they found
a secret voluptuousness in touching their polished chins
with their cold, bare shoulders, swelled out their breasts
like doves, knelt and rose, pressed their hands to their
bosom or voluptuously outspread their arms, which
seemed to flutter as the wings of Iris or Nephthys,
dragged their limbs, bent the knee, displayed their
swift feet with little staccato movements, and followed
every undulation of the music. The maids, standing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</SPAN></span>
against the wall to leave free space for the evolutions
of the dancers, marked the rhythm by snapping their
fingers or clapping their hands together. Some of
these maids, absolutely nude, had no other raiment
than a bracelet of enamelled ware; others wore a
narrow cloth held by straps, and a few sprays of
flowers twisted in their hair. It was a strange and
graceful sight. The buds and the flowers, gently
moving, shed their perfume through the hall, and
these young women, thus wreathed, might have
suggested fortunate comparisons to poets.</p>
<p>But Satou had overestimated the power of her art.
The joyous rhythm seemed to increase Tahoser's
melancholy. A tear rolled down her fair cheek like a
drop of Nile water on a nymphœa, and hiding her face
in the breast of her favourite maid, who leaned upon
the armchair of her mistress, she uttered with a sob,
dovelike in its sadness, "Oh, my dear Nofré, I am
very sad and very unhappy!"</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">II</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">N</span><span class="upper">ofré,</span> anticipating some confidence, made<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</SPAN></span>
a sign, and the harpist, the two musicians,
the dancers, and the maids silently withdrew
one by one, like the figures painted on frescoes.
When the last had gone, the favourite said to her mistress
in a petting, sympathetic tone, like a young
mother soothing her child's tender grief,—</p>
<p>"What is the matter, dear mistress, that you are sad
and unhappy? Are you not young, so fair that the
loveliest envy you, and free to do what you please?
And did not your father, the high-priest Petamounoph,
whose mummy rests concealed within a rich tomb,—did
he not leave you great wealth to do with as you
please? Your palace is splendid, your gardens vast and
watered by transparent streams, your coffers of enamelled
ware and sycamore wood are filled with necklaces,
pectorals, neck-plates, anklets, finely wrought seal-rings.
Your gowns, your calasiris, your head-dresses are greater
in number than the days of the year. Hopi, the father
of waters, regularly covers with his fertilising mud your
domains, which a vulture flying at top speed could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</SPAN></span>
scarce traverse from sunrise to sunrise. And yet your
heart, instead of opening joyously like a lotus bud in
the month of Hathor or of Choeak, closes and contracts
painfully."</p>
<p>Tahoser answered Nofré:—</p>
<p>"Yes, indeed, the gods of the higher zones have
treated me favourably. But what matter one's possessions
if one lacks the one thing desired? An
unsatisfied wish makes the rich as poor, in his gilded,
brightly painted palace, in the midst of his heaps of
grain, of perfumes and precious things, as the most
wretched workman of the Memnonia, who sops up
with sawdust the blood of the bodies, or the semi-nude
negro driving on the Nile his frail papyrus-boat under
the burning midday sun."</p>
<p>Nofré smiled, and said with a look of imperceptible
raillery,—</p>
<p>"Is it possible, O mistress, that a single one of your
fancies has not been fulfilled at once? If you want a
jewel, you give the workman an ingot of pure gold,
cornelians, lapis-lazuli, agates, and hematite, and he
carries out the wished-for design. It is the same way
with gowns, cars, perfumes, flowers, and musical instruments.
From Philæ to Heliopolis your slaves seek<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</SPAN></span>
out for you what is most beautiful and most rare; and
if Egypt does not hold what you want, caravans bring
it to you from the ends of the world."</p>
<p>The lovely Tahoser shook her pretty head and
seemed annoyed at her confidante's lack of intelligence.</p>
<p>"Forgive me, mistress," said Nofré, changing her
tone as she understood that she had made a mistake.
"I had forgotten that it will soon be four months since
the Pharaoh left on his expedition to Upper Ethiopia,
and that the handsome oëris (general), who never
passed under the terrace without looking up and slowing
his steps, accompanies His Majesty. How well
he looked in his uniform, how handsome, young, and
bold!"</p>
<p>Tahoser's rosy lips half parted, as if she were about
to speak, but a faint, rosy flush spread over her cheeks,
she bowed her head, and the words ready to issue forth
did not unfold their sonorous wings.</p>
<p>The maid thought she had guessed right, and continued,—</p>
<p>"In that case, mistress, your grief will soon end,
for this morning a breathless runner arrived, announcing
the triumphal return of the king before sundown.
Have you not already heard innumerable rumours<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</SPAN></span>
buzzing confusedly over the city, which is awakening
from its midday torpor? List! The wheels of the
cars sound upon the stone slabs of the streets, and
already the people are hurrying in compact bodies to
the river bank, to cross it and reach the parade ground.
Throw off your languor and come also to see that
wondrous spectacle. When one is sad, one ought to
mingle with the crowd, for solitude feeds sombre
thoughts. From his chariot Ahmosis will smile graciously
upon you, and you will return happier to your
palace."</p>
<p>"Ahmosis loves me, but I do not love him,"
answered Tahoser.</p>
<p>"You speak as a maid," replied Nofré, who was
very much smitten with the handsome officer, and who
thought that the disdainful nonchalance of Tahoser
was assumed. In point of fact, Ahmosis was a very
handsome fellow. His profile resembled that of the
images of the gods carved by the most skilful sculptors.
His proud, regular features equalled in beauty those of
a woman; his slightly aquiline nose, his brilliant black
eyes lengthened with antimony, his polished cheeks,
smooth as Oriental alabaster, his well-shaped lips, his
tall, handsome figure, his broad chest, his narrow hips,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</SPAN></span>
his strong arms on which, however, no muscle stood
out in coarse relief, were all that were needed to seduce
the most difficult to please; but Tahoser did not
love him, whatever Nofré might think. Another
idea, which she refrained from expressing, for she did
not believe Nofré capable of understanding her, helped
the young girl to make up her mind. She threw
off her languor, and rose from her armchair with a
vivacity quite unexpected after the broken-down attitude
she had preserved during the singing and the
dancing.</p>
<p>Nofré, kneeling before her, fastened on her feet
sandals with turned-up ends, cast scented powder on
her hair, drew from a box several bracelets in the shape
of serpents, and a few rings with sacred scarabæi for
gems, put on her cheeks a green powder which immediately
turned rose-colour as it touched the skin, polished
her nails with a cosmetic, and adjusted the
somewhat rumpled folds of her calasiris like a zealous
maid who means that her mistress shall show to the
greatest advantage. Then she called two or three servants,
and ordered them to make ready the boat and
transport to the other side of the river the chariot
and oxen.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The palace, or if this name seems too pompous, the
dwelling of Tahoser, rose close to the Nile, from
which it was separated by gardens only. Petamounoph's
daughter, her hand resting on Nofré's shoulder,
and preceded by her servants, walked down to the
water-gate through the arbour, the broad leaves of
which, softening the rays of the sun, flecked with light
shadows her lovely face. She soon reached the wide
brick quay, on which swarmed a mighty multitude,
awaiting the departure or return of the boats.</p>
<p>The vast city held now only the sick, the invalids,
old people unable to move, and the slaves left in charge
of the houses. Through the streets, the squares, the
dromos (temple avenues), down the sphinx avenues,
through the pylons, along the quays, flowed streams of
human beings all bound for the Nile. The multitude
exhibited the strangest variety. The Egyptians were
there in largest numbers, and were recognisable by their
clean profile, their tall, slender figures, their fine linen
robes or their carefully pleated calasiris. Some, their
heads enveloped in striped green or blue cloth, with
narrow drawers closely fitting to their loins, showed to
the belt their bare torsos the colour of baked clay.
Against this mass of natives stood out divers members<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</SPAN></span>
of exotic races: negroes from the Upper Nile, as black
as basalt gods, their arms bound round with broad
ivory rings, their ears adorned with barbaric ornaments;
bronzed Ethiopians, fierce-eyed, uneasy, and restless in
the midst of this civilisation, like wild beasts in the
glare of day; Asiatics with their pale-yellow complexion
and their blue eyes, their beard curled in spirals,
wearing a tiara fastened by a band, and draped in heavily
embroidered, fringed robes; Pelasgi, dressed in wild
beasts' skins fastened on the shoulder, showing their
curiously tattooed legs and arms, wearing feathers in
their hair, with two long love-locks hanging down.
Through the multitude gravely marched shaven-headed
priests with a panther's-skin twisted around their body
in such a way that the head of the animal formed a
sort of belt-buckle, byblos shoes on their feet, in their
hand a tall acacia-stick on which were engraved hieroglyphic
characters; soldiers, their silver-studded daggers
by their side, their bucklers on their backs, their bronze
axes in their hands; distinguished personages, their
breasts adorned with neck-plates of honour, to whom
the slaves bowed low, bringing their hands close to the
ground; and sliding along the walls with humble and
sad mien, poor, half-nude women travelling along<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</SPAN></span>
bowed under the weight of their children suspended
from their neck in rags of stuff or baskets of espartero;
while handsome girls, accompanied by three or
four maids, passed proudly with their long, transparent
dresses knotted under their breasts with long,
floating scarfs, sparkling with enamels, pearls, and gold,
and giving out a fragrance of flowers and aromatic
essences.</p>
<p>Among the foot-passengers went litters borne by
Ethiopians running rapidly and rhythmically; light
carts drawn by spirited horses with plumed headgear;
ox chariots moving slowly along and bearing a whole
family. Scarcely did the crowd, careless of being run
over, draw aside to make room, and often the drivers
were forced to strike with their whips those who were
slow or obstinate in moving away.</p>
<p>The greatest animation reigned on the river, which,
notwithstanding its breadth, was so covered with boats
of all kinds that the water was invisible along the
whole stretch of the city; all manner of craft, from the
bark with raised poop and prow and richly painted and
gilded cabin to the light papyrus skiff,—everything
had been called into use. Even the boats used to ferry
cattle and to carry freight, and the reed rafts kept up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</SPAN></span>
by skins, which generally carried loads of clay vessels,
had not been disdained. The waters of the Nile,
beaten, lashed, and cut by oars, sweeps, and rudders,
foamed like the sea, and formed many an eddy that
broke the force of the current.</p>
<p>The build of the boats was as varied as it was picturesque.
Some were finished off at each end with a
great lotus flower curving inwards, the stem adorned
with fluttering flags; others were forked at the poop
which rose to a point; others again were crescent-shaped,
with horns at either end; others bore a sort of
a castle or platform on which stood the pilots; still
others were composed of three strips of bark bound
with cords, and were driven by a paddle. The boats
for the transport of animals and chariots were moored
side by side, supporting a platform on which rested a
floating bridge to facilitate embarking and disembarking.
The number of these was very great. The
horses, terrified, neighed and stamped with their sounding
hoofs; the oxen turned restlessly towards the shore
their shining noses whence hung filaments of saliva,
but grew calmer under the caresses of their drivers.
The boatswains marked time for the rowers by striking
together the palms of their hands; the pilots, perched<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span>
on the poop or walking about on the raised cabins,
shouted their orders, indicating the manoeuvres necessary
to make way through the moving labyrinth of
vessels. Sometimes, in spite of all precautions, boats
collided, and crews exchanged insults or struck at each
other with their oars. These countless crafts, most
of them painted white and adorned with ornaments of
green, blue, or red, laden with men and women dressed
in many-coloured costumes, caused the Nile to disappear
entirely over an extent of many miles, and presented
under the brilliant Egyptian sun a spectacle
dazzling in its changefulness. The water, agitated in
every direction, surged, sparkled, and gleamed like
quicksilver, and resembled a sun shattered into millions
of pieces.</p>
<p>Tahoser entered her barge, which was decorated
with wondrous richness. In the centre stood a cabin,
its entablature surmounted with a row of uræus-snakes,
the angles squared to the shape of pillars, and the walls
adorned with designs. A binnacle with pointed roof
stood on the poop, and was matched at the other
end by a sort of altar enriched with paintings. The
rudder consisted of two huge sweeps, ending in
heads of Hathor, that were fastened with long<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span>
strips of stuff and worked upon hollow posts. On
the mast shivered—for the east wind had just risen—an
oblong sail fastened to two yards, the rich stuff
of which was embroidered and painted with lozenges,
chevrons, birds, and chimerical animals in
brilliant colours; from the lower yard hung a fringe
of great tufts.</p>
<p>The moorings cast off and the sail braced to the
wind, the vessel left the bank, sheering with its sharp
prow between the innumerable boats, the oars of which
became entangled and moved about like the legs of a
scarabæus thrown over on its back. It sailed on carelessly
amidst a stream of insults and shouts. Its
greater power enabled it to disdain collisions which
would have run down frailer vessels. Besides, Tahoser's
crew were so skilful that their vessel seemed
endowed with life, so swiftly did it obey the rudder and
avoid in the nick of time serious obstacles. Soon it
had left behind the heavily laden boats with their
cabins filled with passengers inside, and on the roof
three or four rows of men, women, and children
crouching in the attitude so dear to the Egyptian
people. These individuals, so kneeling, might have
been mistaken for the assistant judges of Osiris, had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</SPAN></span>
not their faces, instead of bearing the expression of meditation
suited to funeral councillors, expressed the most
unmistakable delight. The fact was that the Pharaoh
was returning victorious, bringing vast booty with him.
Thebes was given up to joy, and its whole population
was proceeding to welcome the favourite of Ammon
Ra, Lord of the Diadem, the Emperor of the Pure Region,
the mighty Aroëris, the Sun God and the Subduer
of Nations.</p>
<p>Tahoser's barge soon reached the opposite bank.
The boat bearing her car came alongside almost at the
same moment. The oxen ascended the flying bridge,
and in a few minutes were yoked by the alert servants
who had been landed with them.</p>
<p>The oxen were white spotted with black, and bore
on their heads a sort of tiara which partly covered the
yoke; the latter was fastened by broad leather straps,
one of which passed around the neck of the oxen, and
the other, fastened to the first, passed under their belly.
Their high withers, their broad dewlaps, their clean
limbs, their small hoofs, shining like agate, their tails
with the tuft carefully combed, showed that they were
thorough-bred and that hard field-work had never deformed
them. They exhibited the majestic placidity<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</SPAN></span>
of Apis, the sacred bull, when it receives homage and
offerings.</p>
<p>The chariot, extremely light, could hold two or three
persons standing. The semicircular body, covered
with ornaments and gilding arranged in graceful curved
lines, was supported by a sort of diagonal stay, which
rose somewhat beyond the upper edge and to which
the traveller clung with his hand when the road was
rough or the speed of the oxen rapid. On the axle,
placed at the back of the body in order to diminish the
jolting, were two six-spoked wheels held by keyed
bolts. On top of a staff planted at the back of
the vehicle spread a parasol in the shape of palm
leaves.</p>
<p>Nofré, bending over the edge of the chariot, held
the reins of the oxen, bridled like horses, and drove the
car in the Egyptian fashion, while Tahoser, motionless
by her side, leaned a hand, studded with rings
from the little finger to the thumb, on the gilded
moulding of the shell. These two lovely maidens,
the one brilliant with enamels and precious stones, the
other scarcely veiled in a transparent tunic of gauze,
formed a charming group on the brilliantly painted
car. Eight or ten men-servants, dressed in tunics<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</SPAN></span>
with transverse stripes, the folds of which were massed
in front, accompanied the equipage, keeping step with
the oxen.</p>
<p>On this side of the river the crowd was not less
great. The inhabitants of the Memnonia quarters and
of the neighbouring villages were arriving in their
turn, and every moment the boats, landing their passengers
on the brick quay wall, brought additional
sight-seers to swell the multitude. The wheels of
innumerable chariots, all driving towards the parade
ground, flashed like suns in the golden dust which
they raised. Thebes at that moment must have been
as deserted as if a conqueror had carried away its people
into captivity.</p>
<p>The frame, too, was worthy of the picture. In the
midst of green fields whence rose the aigrettes of the
dôm palms, showed in bright colours houses of pleasaunce,
palaces, and summer homes surrounded by sycamores
and mimosas. Pools of water sparkled in the
sunshine, the festoons of vines climbed on the arched
arbours, and in the background stood out the gigantic
pylons of the palace of Rameses Meïamoun, with its
huge pylons, its enormous walls, its gilded and painted
flagstaffs from which the colours blew out in the wind;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</SPAN></span>
and further to the north the two colossi sitting in postures
of eternal immobility, mountains of granite in
human shape, before the entrance to the Amenophium,
showed through a bluish haze, half masking the still
more distant Rhamesseium, and beyond it the tomb of
the high-priest, but allowing the palace of Menephta
to be seen at one of its angles.</p>
<p>Nearer the Lybian chain, from the Memnonian
quarter inhabited by the undertakers, dissectors, and
embalmers, went up into the blue air the red smoke of
the natron boilers, for the work of death never ceased;
in vain did life spread tumultuously around, the bandages
were being prepared, the cases moulded, the
coffins carved with hieroglyphs, and some cold body
was stretched out upon the funeral bed, with feet of
lion or jackal, waiting to have its toilet made for
eternity.</p>
<p>On the horizon, but, owing to the transparency of
the air, seeming to be much nearer, the Libyan mountains
showed against the clear sky their limestone
crests and their barren slopes hollowed out into
hypogea and passages.</p>
<p>Looking towards the other bank the prospect was no
less wondrous. Against the vaporous background of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</SPAN></span>
the Arabian chain, the gigantic pile of the Northern
Palace, which distance itself could scarce diminish,
reared above the flat-roofed dwellings its mountains
of granite, its forest of giant pillars, rose-coloured
in the rays of the sunshine. In front of the palace
stretched a vast esplanade reaching down to the
river by a staircase placed at the angles; in the centre
an avenue of ram-headed sphinxes perpendicular to
the Nile, led to a huge pylon, in front of which
stood two colossal statues and a pair of obelisks,
the pyramidions of which, rising above the cornice,
showed their flesh-coloured points against the uniform
blue of the sky. Beyond and above the boundary
wall rose the side façade of the temple of Ammon.
More to the right were the temples of Khons and
Oph. A giant pylon, seen in profile and facing
to the south, and two obelisks sixty cubits in height,
marked the beginning of that marvellous avenue of
two thousand sphinxes with lions' bodies and rams'
heads, which reached from the Northern Palace to
the Southern Palace. On the pedestals could be
seen swelling the huge quarters of the first row of
these monsters, that turned their backs to the Nile.
Farther still, there showed faintly in the rosy light<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</SPAN></span>
cornices on which the mystic globe outspread its
vast wings, heads of placid-faced colossi, corners of
mighty buildings, needles of granite, terraces rising
above terraces, columns of palm trees growing like
tufts of grass amid these vast constructions; and the
Palace of the South uprose, with high painted walls,
flag-adorned staffs, sloping doors, obelisks, and herds
of sphinxes. Beyond, as far as the eye could reach,
Oph stretched out with its palaces, its priests' colleges,
its houses, and in the dimmest distance the
crests of its walls and the summits of its gates showed
as faint blue lines.</p>
<p>Tahoser gazed upon the prospect which was so
familiar to her, but her glance expressed no admiration;
however, as she passed a house almost buried
amid luxuriant vegetation, she lost her apathy, and
seemed to seek on the terraces and on the outer
gallery some well-known form.</p>
<p>A handsome young man, carelessly leaning against
one of the slender pillars of the building, appeared to
be watching the crowd, but his dark eyes, with their
dreamy look, did not rest on the chariot which bore
Tahoser and Nofré.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the hand of the daughter of Petamou<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</SPAN></span>noph
clung nervously to the edge of the car; her cheeks
turned pale under the light touch of rouge which
Nofré had put on, and as if she felt herself fainting,
she breathed in rapidly and often the scent of her
nosegay of lotus.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">III</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="upper">n</span> spite of her usual perspicacity, Nofré had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</SPAN></span>
not noticed the effect produced on her mistress
by the sight of the careless stranger. She had
observed neither her pallor, followed by a deep
blush, nor the brighter gleam of her glance nor
the rustling of the enamels and pearls of her necklace
rising and falling with her bosom. It is true that
her whole attention was given to the management
of the equipage, which presented a good deal of
difficulty in view of the ever denser masses of sight-seers
crowding to be present at the triumphal entrance
of the Pharaoh.</p>
<p>At last the car reached the parade ground, a vast enclosure
carefully levelled for military displays. Great
banks, which must have cost thirty enslaved nations
the labour of years, formed a bold framework for the
immense parallelogram. Sloping revetment walls of
unbaked bricks covered the banks, and the crests were
lined many files deep by hundreds of thousands of
Egyptians, whose white or brightly striped costumes
fluttered in the sun with that constant motion character<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</SPAN></span>istic
of a multitude even when it seems to be motionless.
Behind this ring of spectators the cars, chariots,
and litters watched by the coachmen, drivers, and
slaves, seemed to be the camp of a migrating nation,
so great was their number; for Thebes, the wonder of
the ancient world, reckoned more inhabitants than do
certain kingdoms. The fine, smooth sand of the
vast arena lined with a million people, sparkled under
the light, falling from a sky as blue as the enamel of
the Osiris statuettes.</p>
<p>On the southern side of the parade ground the revetment
wall was cut through by a road which ran
towards Upper Egypt along the foot of the Libyan
chain. At the opposite corner the revetment was
again cut so that the road was prolonged to the palace
of Rameses Meïamoun through the thick brick walls.
Petamounoph's daughter and Nofré, for whom the
servants had made room, stood on this corner on the
top of the wall, so that they could see the whole procession
pass at their feet.</p>
<p>A mighty rumour, low, deep, and powerful, like that
of an advancing ocean, was heard in the distance and
drowned the innumerable noises arising from the
crowd, as the roar of a lion silences the yelping of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</SPAN></span>
a tribe of jackals. Soon the separate sounds of the
instruments were heard amidst the thunderous noise
produced by the driving of war chariots and the
rhythmic marching of the soldiers. A sort of reddish
mist like that raised by the desert wind filled the sky
in that direction, and yet there was no breeze,—not
a breath of air,—and the most delicate branches
of the palms were as motionless as if they had been
carved on granite capitals. Not a hair moved on
the wet temples of the women, and the fluted
lappets of their head-dresses fell limp behind their
backs. The dusty mist was produced by the army
on the march, and hovered above it like a dun-coloured
cloud.</p>
<p>The roar increased, the cloud of dust opened, and
the first files of musicians debouched into the vast
arena, to the intense delight of the multitude, which,
notwithstanding its respect for the majesty of the
Pharaoh, was beginning to weary of waiting under a
sunshine which would have melted any but Egyptian
skulls.</p>
<p>The advance guard of musicians stopped for a few
moments. Delegations of priests and deputations of
the chief inhabitants of Thebes crossed the parade<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</SPAN></span>
ground to meet the Pharaoh, and drew up in double
line in attitudes of the deepest respect so as to leave
a free passage for the procession.</p>
<p>The music, which alone might have formed a small
army, was composed of drums, tambourines, trumpets,
and sistra. The first squad passed, blowing a sounding
blare of triumph through its short copper bugles
that shone like gold. Every one of these musicians
carried a second bugle under his arm, as if the instrument
were likely to be worn out before the man.
The costume of the trumpeters consisted of a short
tunic bound by a sash the broad ends of which fell
in front. A narrow band upholding two ostrich-plumes
fastened their thick hair. The plumes thus placed
looked like the antennæ of a scarabæus, and imparted
to those who wore them a quaint, insect-like
appearance.</p>
<p>The drummers, clad in a mere pleated kilt and bare
to the belt, struck with sycamore sticks the wild-ass-skin
stretched over their kettledrums suspended from
a leather baldric, keeping the time which the drum
major marked by clapping his hands as he frequently
turned towards them. Next to the drummers came
the sistrum players, who shook their instruments with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</SPAN></span>
sharp, quick movements, and at regular intervals made
the metal rings sound upon the four bronze bars.
The tambourine players carried transversely before
them their oblong instrument fastened by a scarf
passed behind their neck, and struck with both fists
the skin stretched on either end.</p>
<p>Each band numbered not less than two hundred
men, but the storm of sound produced by the bugles,
drums, sistra, and tambourines, which would have
been deafening within the palace, was in no wise too
loud or too tremendous under the vast cupola of the
heavens, in the centre of that immense space, amid
buzzing multitudes, at the head of an army which
baffles enumeration and which was advancing with
the roar of great waters. Besides, were eight hundred
musicians too many to precede the Pharaoh, beloved
of Ammon Ra, represented by colossi of basalt and
granite sixty cubits high, whose name was written
on the cartouches of imperishable monuments, and
whose story was carved and painted upon the walls
of the hypostyle halls, on the sides of pillars, in endless
<i>bassi-relievi</i> and innumerable frescoes? Was it too
much indeed for a king who dragged a hundred conquered
nations by their hair, and from the height of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</SPAN></span>
his throne ruled the nations with his whip? For
the living Sun that flamed on dazzled eyes? For
one who, save that he did not possess eternal life,
was a god?</p>
<p>Behind the music came the captive barbarians,
strange to look at, with bestial faces, black skins,
woolly hair, as much like monkeys as men, and dressed
in the costume of their country,—a skirt just above
the hips held by a single brace, embroidered with ornaments
in divers colours. An ingenious cruelty had
directed the binding together of the prisoners. Some
were bound by the elbows behind the back; others
by their hands raised above their head, in the most
uncomfortable position; others again had their wrists
caught in stocks; others with their neck in an iron
collar or held by a rope which fastened a whole file of
them, with a loop for each victim. It seemed as if
the object sought had been to thwart as much as possible
natural attitudes in the fettering of these poor
wretches, who marched before their conqueror awkwardly
and with difficulty, rolling their big eyes and
twisting and writhing in pain. Guards marched at
their side, striking them with sticks to make them
keep time.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Next came, bowed with shame, exposed in their
wretched, deformed nudity, dark-complexioned women,
with long hanging tresses, carrying their children in
a piece of stuff fastened around their brow,—a vile
herd intended for the meanest uses. Others, young,
handsome and fairer, their arms adorned with broad
bracelets of ivory, their ears pulled down by great
metal discs, wrapped themselves in long, wide-sleeved
tunics embroidered around the neck and falling in fine,
close folds down to their ankles, on which rattled
anklets,—poor girls, snatched from their country,
their parents, their lovers perhaps; yet they smiled
through their tears, for the power of beauty is boundless,
strangeness gives birth to caprice, and perhaps
the royal favour awaited some of these barbaric captives
in the secret depths of the harem. Soldiers
accompanied them and kept the multitude from crowding
upon them.</p>
<p>The standard-bearers followed, bearing on high the
golden staff of their ensigns, which represented mystic
baris, sacred hawks, heads of Hathor surmounted by
ostrich-plumes, winged ibex, cartouches bearing the
king's name, crocodiles, and other warlike or religious
symbols. Long white streamers spotted with black<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</SPAN></span>
spots were tied to these standards, and fluttered gracefully
on the march.</p>
<p>At the sight of the standards which announced the
arrival of the Pharaoh, the deputations of priests and
notables stretched out their hands in supplication
towards him, or let them fall on their knees, the
palms turned up. Some even prostrated themselves,
their knees close to the body, their faces in the dust,
in an attitude of absolute submission and deep adoration,
while the spectators waved great palm-branches.</p>
<p>A herald or reader, holding in his hand a roll
covered with hieroglyphic signs, marched along between
the standard-bearers and the incense-burners,
who preceded the king's litter. He shouted, in a
loud voice as sonorous as a brazen trumpet, the
victories of the Pharaoh; he related the fortunes of
the Pharaoh's battles, announced the number of captives
and of war chariots taken from the enemy, the
amount of the booty, the measures of gold-dust, the
elephants' tusks, the ostrich-plumes, the quantities
of balsamic gum, the giraffes, lions, panthers, and
other rare animals. He named the barbaric chiefs
who had been slain by the javelins of His Majesty
the Almighty Aroëris, favourite of the gods. At each<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</SPAN></span>
proclamation the people uttered a mighty shout, and
from the top of the revetment banks threw down
upon the conqueror's pathway long, green palm-branches.</p>
<p>At last the Pharaoh appeared. Priests, who turned
and faced him at regular intervals, swung their censers,
after having cast incense upon the coals lighted
in a little bronze cup which was held by a hand at the
end of a sort of sceptre topped by a sacred animal's
head. They marched respectfully backwards while
the scented blue smoke rose to the nostrils of the
triumphant sovereign, apparently as indifferent to these
honours as if he were a god of bronze or basalt.</p>
<p>Twelve oëris, or military chiefs, their heads covered
with a light helmet surmounted by an ostrich-plume,
bare to the belt, their loins wrapped in a loin cloth
of stiff folds, wearing their buckler hanging from
their belt, supported a sort of dais on which rested
the throne of the Pharaoh. This was a chair with
feet and arms formed of lions, with a high back provided
with a cushion that fell over it, and adorned on
its sides with a network of rose and blue flowers.
The feet, the arms, and the edges of the throne were
gilded, while brilliant colours filled the places left<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</SPAN></span>
empty. On either side of the litter four fan-bearers
waved huge feather fans, semicircular in form, carried
at the end of long, gilded handles. Two priests bore
a huge cornucopia richly ornamented, whence fell
quantities of giant lotus-flowers.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh wore a helmet shaped like a mitre
and cut out around the ears, where it fell over the
neck by way of a protection. On the blue ground
of the helmet sparkled innumerable dots like birds'
eyes, formed of three circles, black, white, and red.
It was adorned with scarlet and yellow lines, and the
symbolic uræus snake, twisting its golden scales on
the fore part, rose and swelled above the royal brow.
Two long, purple, fluted lappets fell upon his shoulders
and completed this majestic head-dress.</p>
<p>A broad necklace, of seven rows of enamels, gems,
and golden beads, swelled on the Pharaoh's breast and
shone in the sun. His upper garment was a sort of
close-fitting jacket, of rose and black checkers, the
ends of which, shaped like narrow bands, were twisted
tightly several times around the bust. The sleeves,
which came down to the biceps and were edged with
transverse lines of gold, red, and blue, showed round,
firm arms, the left provided with a broad wristlet of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</SPAN></span>
metal intended to protect it from the switch of the
cord when the Pharaoh shot an arrow from his triangular
bow. His right arm was adorned with a bracelet
formed of a serpent twisted several times on itself,
and in his hand he held a long golden sceptre ending
in a lotus-bud. The rest of the body was enveloped
in the finest linen cloth with innumerable folds, held
to the hips by a girdle inlaid with plates of enamel
and gold. Between the jacket and the belt, the torso
showed, shining and polished like rose granite worked
by a skilful workman. Sandals with pointed upturned
toes protected his long narrow feet, which were held
close to one another like the feet of the gods on the
walls of the temples. His smooth, beardless face
with its great, regular features, which it seemed impossible
for any human emotion to alter, and which the
blood of vulgar life did not colour, with its deathlike
pallor, its closed lips, its great eyes made larger still
by black lines, the eyelids of which never closed any
more than did those of the sacred hawk,—inspired
through its very immobility respect and awe. It
seemed as though those fixed eyes gazed upon eternity
and the infinite only; surrounding objects did not
appear to be reflected in them. The satiety of enjoy<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</SPAN></span>ment,
of will satisfied the moment it was expressed,
the isolation of a demigod who has no fellow among
mortals, the disgust of worship, and the weariness of
triumph had forever marked that face, implacably
sweet and of granite-like serenity. Not even Osiris
judging the souls of the dead could look more
majestic and more calm. A great tame lion, lying
by his side upon the litter, stretched out its enormous
paws like a sphinx upon a pedestal, and winked its
yellow eyes. A rope fixed to the litter, fastened to
the Pharaoh the chariots of the conquered chiefs.
He dragged them behind him like animals in a leash.
These vanquished chiefs, in gloomy, fierce attitudes,
whose elbows, drawn together by their points, formed
an ugly angle, staggered awkwardly as they were
dragged by the cars driven by Egyptian coachmen.</p>
<p>Next came the war chariots of the young princes
of the royal family, drawn by pairs of thorough-bred
horses of noble and elegant shape, with slender legs
and muscular quarters, their manes cut close and short,
shaking their heads adorned with red plumes, frontlets,
and headgear of metal bosses. A curved pole, adorned
with scarlet squares, pressed down on their withers,
and supported two small saddles surmounted with balls<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</SPAN></span>
of polished brass held together by a light yoke, with
curved ends. Girths and breast-harnesses richly embroidered,
and superb housings rayed with blue or red
and fringed with tufts, completed their strong, graceful,
and light harness.</p>
<p>The body of the car, painted red and green, and
ornamented with plates and bosses of bronze like the
boss on the bucklers, had on either side two great
quivers placed diagonally in opposite directions, the
one containing javelins, and the other arrows. On
either side a carved and gilded lion, its face wrinkled
with a dreadful grin, seemed to roar, and to be about
to spring at the foe.</p>
<p>The young princes wore for a head-dress a narrow
band which bound their hair and in which twisted,
as it swelled its hood, the royal asp. For dress
they wore a tunic embroidered around the neck and
the sleeves with brilliant embroidery and bound at
the waist with a leather belt fastened with a metal
plate on which were engraved hieroglyphs. Through
the belt was passed a long, triangular, brazen-bladed
poniard, the handle of which, fluted transversely, ended
in a hawk's-head. On the car, by the side of each
prince, stood the driver, whose business it was to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</SPAN></span>
drive during the battle, and the equerry charged with
warding off with a buckler the blows directed at
the fighter, while he himself shot his arrows or hurled
the javelins which he took from the quivers at the
sides.</p>
<p>Behind the princes came the chariots which formed
the Egyptian cavalry, to the number of twenty thousand,
each drawn by two horses and carrying three
men. These chariots came ten abreast, with wheels
almost touching yet never meeting, so skilful were
the drivers. Some lighter cars, intended for skirmishes
and reconnaissances came foremost, bearing a
single warrior, who in order to have his hands free
while fighting, passed the reins around his body. By
leaning to the right, to the left or backwards, he directed
and stopped his horses, and it was truly marvellous
to see these noble animals, which seemed left to
themselves, guided by imperceptible movements and
preserving an unchangingly regular gait.</p>
<p>On one of these chariots the elegant Ahmosis,
Nofré's protégé, showed his tall figure and cast his
glance over the multitude, trying to make out Tahoser.</p>
<p>The trampling of the horses held in with difficulty,
the thunder of the bronze-bound wheels, the metallic<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</SPAN></span>
justling of weapons, imparted to the procession an
imposing and formidable character well calculated to
strike terror into the bravest souls. Helmets, plumes,
corselets covered with green, red, and yellow scales,
gilded bows, brazen swords, flashed and gleamed
fiercely in the sun shining in the heavens above the
Libyan chain like a great Osiris eye, and one felt
that the charge of such an army must necessarily
sweep the nations before it even as the storm drives
the light straw. Under these numberless wheels the
earth resounded and trembled as if in the throes of an
earthquake.</p>
<p>Next to the chariots came the infantry battalions
marching in order, the men carrying their shields on
the left arm, and a lance, a javelin, a bow, a sling, or
an axe in the right hand. The soldiers wore helmets
adorned with two horse-hair tails. Their bodies were
protected by a cuirass of crocodile-skin; their impassible
look, the perfect regularity of their motions, their
coppery complexion, deepened still more by the recent
expedition to the burning regions of Upper Egypt, the
desert dust which lay upon their clothes, inspired
admiration for their discipline and courage. With
such soldiers Egypt could conquer the world.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Then came the troops of the allies, easily known by
the barbarous shape of their helmets, like mitres cut
off, or else surmounted with a crescent stuck on a
point. Their broad-bladed swords, their saw-edged
axes, must have inflicted incurable wounds.</p>
<p>Slaves carried the booty announced by the herald on
their shoulders or on stretchers, and belluaria led panthers,
wild-cats, crawling as if they sought to hide
themselves, ostriches flapping their wings, giraffes overtopping
the crowd with their long necks, and even
brown bears taken, it was said, in the Mountains of
the Moon.</p>
<p>The King had long since entered his palace, yet the
defile was still proceeding. As he passed the revetment
on which stood Tahoser and Nofré, the Pharaoh,
whose litter, borne upon the shoulders of oëris, placed
him above the crowd on a level with the young girl, had
slowly fixed upon her his dark glance. He had not
turned his head, not a muscle of his face had moved, and
his features had remained as motionless as the golden
mask of a mummy, yet his eyes had turned between his
painted eyelids towards Tahoser, and a flash of desire
had lighted up their sombre discs, an effect as terrific
as if the granite eyes of a divine simulacrum, suddenly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</SPAN></span>
lighted up, were to express a human thought. He had
half raised one of his hands from the arm of his throne,
a gesture imperceptible to every one, but which one of
the servants marching near the litter noticed, and at
once looked towards the daughter of Petamounoph.</p>
<p>Meanwhile night had suddenly fallen, for there is no
twilight in Egypt,—night, or rather a blue day, treading
close upon the yellow day. In the azure of
infinite transparency gleamed unnumbered stars, their
twinkling light reflected confusedly in the waters of the
Nile, which was stirred by the boats that brought back
to the other shore the population of Thebes; and the
last cohorts of the army were still tramping across the
plain, like a gigantic serpent, when the barge landed
Tahoser at the gate of her palace.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">IV</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> Pharaoh reached his palace, situated a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</SPAN></span>
short distance from the parade ground on
the left bank of the Nile. In the bluish
transparency of the night the mighty edifice loomed
more colossal still, and its huge outlines stood out with
terrifying and sombre vigour against the purple background
of the Libyan chain. The feeling of absolute
power was conveyed by that mighty, immovable mass,
upon which eternity itself could make no more impression
than a drop of water on marble. A vast court
surrounded by thick walls, adorned at their summits
with deeply cut mouldings, lay in front of the palace.
At the end of the court rose two high columns with
palm-leaf capitals, marking the entrance to a second
court. Behind these columns rose a giant pylon, consisting
of two huge masses enclosing a monumental
gate, intended rather for colossi of granite than for mere
flesh and blood. Beyond these propylæa, and filling
the end of a third court, the palace proper appeared
in its formidable majesty. Two buildings projected
squarely forward, like the bastions of a fortress, exhibit<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</SPAN></span>ing
on their faces low <i>bassi-relievi</i> of vast size, which
represented, in the consecrated manner, the victorious
Pharaoh scourging his enemies and trampling them
under foot; immense pages of history carved with a
chisel on colossal stone books which the most distant
posterity was yet to read. These buildings rose much
higher than the pylons. The cornices, curving outwards
and topped with great stones so arranged as to
form battlements, showed superbly against the crest of
the Libyan Mountains, which formed the background
of the picture.</p>
<p>The façade of the palace connected these buildings
and filled up the whole of the intervening space.
Above its giant gateway, flanked with sphinxes, showed
three rows of square windows, through which streamed
the light from the interior and which formed upon the
dark wall a sort of luminous checker-board. From
the first story projected balconies, supported by statues
of crouching prisoners.</p>
<p>The officers of the king's household, the eunuchs,
the servants, and the slaves, informed of the approach of
His Majesty by the blare of the trumpets and the roll
of the drums, had proceeded to meet him, and waited,
kneeling and prostrate, in the court paved with great<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</SPAN></span>
stone slabs. Captives, of the despised race of Scheto,
bore urns filled with salt and olive oil, in which was
dipped a wick, the flame of which crackled bright and
clear. These men stood ranged in line from the
basalt gate to the entrance of the first court, motionless
like bronze lamp-bearers.</p>
<p>Soon the head of the procession entered the pylon
and the bugles and the drums sounded with a din
which, repeated by the echoes, drove the sleeping
ibises from the entablatures. The bearers stopped at
the gate in the façade between the two pavilions;
slaves brought a footstool with several steps and placed
it by the side of the litter. The Pharaoh rose with
majestic slowness and stood for a few moments perfectly
motionless. Thus standing on a pedestal of
shoulders, he soared above all heads and appeared to
be twelve cubits high. Strangely lighted, half by the
rising moon, half by the light of the lamps, in a costume
in which gold and enamels sparkled intermittently,
he resembled Osiris, or Typhon rather. He descended
the steps as if he were a statue, and at last entered the
palace.</p>
<p>A first inner court, framed in by a row of huge
pillars covered with hieroglyphs, that bore a frieze<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</SPAN></span>
ending in volutes, was slowly crossed by the Pharaoh
in the midst of a crowd of prostrate slaves
and maids.</p>
<p>Then appeared another court surrounded by a
covered cloister, and short columns, the capitals of
which were formed of a cube of hard sandstone, on
which rested the massive architrave. The imprint of
indestructibility marked the straight lines and the geometric
forms of this architecture built with pieces of
mountains. The pillars and the columns seemed to
strike firmly into the ground in order to upbear the
weight of the mighty stones placed on the cubes of
their capitals, the walls to slope inwards so as to have
a firmer foundation, and the stones to join together so
as to form but one block; but polychromous decorations
and <i>bassi-relievi</i> hollowed out and enriched with
more brilliant tints added, in the daytime, lightness and
richness to these vast masses, which when night had
fallen, recovered all their imposing effect.</p>
<p>Under the cornice, in the Egyptian style, the unchanging
lines of which formed against the sky a vast
parallelogram of deep azure, quivered, in the intermittent
breath of the breeze, lighted lamps placed at short
distances apart. The fish-pond in the centre of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</SPAN></span>
court mingled, as it reflected them, their red flashes
with the blue gleams of the moon. Rows of shrubs
planted around the basin gave out a faint, sweet perfume.
At the back opened the gate of the harem and
of the private apartments, which were decorated with
peculiar magnificence.</p>
<p>Below the ceiling ran a frieze of uræus snakes, standing
on their tails and swelling their hoods. On the
entablature of the door, in the hollow of the cornice, the
mystic globe outspread its vast, imbricated wings; pillars
ranged in symmetrical lines supported heavy sandstone
blocks forming soffits, the blue ground of which was
studded with golden stars. On the walls vast pictures,
carved in low, flat relief and coloured with the most
brilliant tints, represented the usual scenes of the harem
and of home life. The Pharaoh was seen on his
throne, gravely playing at draughts with one of his
women who stood nude before him, her head bound
with a broad band from which rose a mass of lotus
flowers. In another the Pharaoh, without parting
with any of his sovereign and sacerdotal impassibility,
stretched out his hand and touched the chin of a young
maid dressed in a collar and bracelet, who held out to
him a bouquet of flowers. Elsewhere he was seen<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</SPAN></span>
undecided and smiling, as if he had slyly put off making
a choice, in the midst of the young queens, who
strove to overcome his gravity by all sorts of caressing
and graceful coquetries.</p>
<p>Other panels represented female musicians and
dancers, women bathing, flooded with perfumes and
massaged by slaves,—the poses so elegant, the forms
so youthfully suave, and the outlines so pure, that no
art has ever surpassed them.</p>
<p>Rich and complicated ornamental designs, admirably
carried out in harmonious green, blue, red, yellow, and
white, covered the spaces left empty. On cartouches
and bands in the shape of stelæ were inscribed the titles
of the Pharaoh and inscriptions in his honour.</p>
<p>On the shafts of the huge columns were decorative
or symbolical figures wearing the pschent, armed
with the tau, following each other in procession,
and whose eyes, showing full upon a side face,
seemed to look inquisitively into the hall. Lines
of perpendicular hieroglyphs separated the zones
of personages. Among the green leaves carved on
the drum of the capital, buds and lotus flowers
stood out in their natural colours, imitating baskets
of bloom.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Between each pair of columns an elegant table of
cedar bore on its platform a bronze cup filled with
scented oil, from which the cotton wicks drew an
odoriferous light. Groups of tall vases, bound together
with wreaths, alternated with the lamps and held at the
foot of each pillar sheaves of golden grain mingled with
field grasses and balsamic plants.</p>
<p>In the centre of the hall a round porphyry table,
the disc of which was supported by the statue of a captive,
disappeared under heaped-up urns, vases, flagons,
and pots, whence rose a forest of gigantic artificial
flowers; for real flowers would have appeared mean
in the centre of that vast hall, and nature had to be
proportioned to the mighty work of man. These
enormous calyxes were of the most brilliant golden
yellow, azure, and purple.</p>
<p>At the back rose the throne, or chair, of the Pharaoh,
the feet of which, curiously crossed and bound by encircling
ribbing, had in their re-entering angles four
statuettes of barbaric Asiatic or African prisoners
recognisable by their beards and their dress. These
figures, their elbows tied behind their backs, and kneeling
in constrained attitudes, their bodies bowed, bore
upon their humbled heads the cushion, checkered with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</SPAN></span>
gold, red, and black, on which sat their conqueror.
Faces of chimerical animals from whose mouths fell,
instead of a tongue, a long red tuft, adorned the crossbars
of the throne.</p>
<p>On either side of it were ranged, for the princes,
less splendid, though still extremely elegant and charmingly
fanciful chairs; for the Egyptians are no less
clever at carving cedar, cypress, and sycamore wood, in
gilding, colouring, and inlaying it with enamels, than in
cutting in the Philoe or Syêné quarries monstrous
granite blocks for the palaces of the Pharaohs and the
sanctuaries of the gods.</p>
<p>The King crossed the hall with a slow, majestic step,
without his painted eyelids having once moved; nothing
indicated that he heard the cries of love that welcomed
him, or that he perceived the human beings
kneeling or prostrate, whose brows were touched by the
folds of the calasiris that fell around his feet. He sat
down, placing his ankles close together and his hands
on his knees in the solemn attitude of the gods.</p>
<p>The young princes, handsome as women, took their
seats to the right and left of their father. The servants
took off their enamelled necklaces, their belts,
and their swords, poured flagons of scent upon their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</SPAN></span>
hair, rubbed their arms with aromatic oils, and presented
them with wreaths of flowers, cool, perfumed collars,
odorous luxuries better suited to the festival than the
heavy richness of gold, of precious stones and pearls,
which, for the matter of that, harmonise admirably
with flowers.</p>
<p>Lovely nude slaves, whose slender forms showed the
graceful transition from childhood to youth, their hips
circled with a narrow belt that concealed none of their
charms, lotus flowers in their hair, flagons of wavy
alabaster in their hands, timidly pressed around the
Pharaoh and poured palm oil over his shoulders, his
arms, and his torso, polished like jasper. Other maids
waved around his head broad fans of painted ostrich-feathers
on long ivory or sandal-wood handles, that, as
they were warmed by their small hands, gave forth a
delightful odour. Others placed before the Pharaoh
stalks of nymphœa that bloomed like the cup of the
censers. All these attentions were rendered with a
deep devotion, and a sort of respectful awe, as if to a
divine, immortal personage, called down by pity from
the superior zones to the vile tribe of men; for the
king is the Son of the gods, the favoured of Phré, the
protégé of Ammon Ra.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The women of the harem had risen from their prostrate
attitude, and seated themselves on superb, carved
and gilded chairs, with red-leather cushions filled with
thistle-down. Thus ranged, they formed a line of
graceful, smiling heads which a painter would have
loved to reproduce. Some were dressed in tunics of
white gauze with stripes alternately opaque and transparent,
the narrow sleeves of which left bare the delicate,
round arms covered with bracelets from the wrist
to the elbow: others, bare to the waist, wore a skirt of
pale lilac rayed with darker stripes, and covered with a
fillet of little rose beads which showed in the diaper
the cartouche of the Pharaoh traced on the stuff; others
wore red skirts with black-pearl fillets; others again,
draped in a tissue as light as woven air, as transparent
as glass, wound the folds around them, and managed
to show off coquettishly the shape of their lovely
bosoms; others were enclosed in a sheath covered with
blue, green, or red scales which moulded their forms
accurately; and others again had their shoulders covered
with a sort of pleated cape, and their fringed
skirts were fastened below the breast with a scarf with
long, floating ends.</p>
<p>The head-dresses were no less varied. Sometimes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</SPAN></span>
the plaited hair was spun out into curls; sometimes it
was divided into three parts, one of which fell down
the back and the other two on either side of the cheeks.
Huge periwigs, closely curled, with numberless cords
maintained transversely by golden threads, rows of
enamels, or pearls, were put on like helmets over
young and lovely faces, which sought of art an aid
which their beauty did not need.</p>
<p>All these women held in their hands a flower of
the blue or white lotus, and breathed amorously, with a
fluttering of their nostrils, the penetrating odour which
the broad calyx exhaled. A stalk of the same flower,
springing from the back of their necks, bowed over
their heads and showed its bud between their eyebrows
darkened with antimony.</p>
<p>In front of them black or white slaves, with no
other garment than a waist girdle, held out to them
necklaces of flowers made of crocuses, the blooms
of which, white outside, are yellow inside, purple
safflowers, golden-yellow chrysanthemums, red-berried
nightshade, myosotis whose flowers seemed made of
blue enamel of the statues of Isis, and nepenthes whose
intoxicating odour makes one forget everything, even
the far-distant home.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>These slaves were followed by others, who on the
upturned palm of their right hands bore cups of silver
or bronze full of wine, and in the left held napkins
with which the guests wiped their lips.</p>
<p>The wines were drawn from amphoræ of clay, glass,
or metal held in elegant woven baskets placed on four-footed
pedestals made of a light, supple wood interlaced
in ingenious fashion. The baskets contained seven
sorts of wines: date wine, palm wine, and wine of
the grape, white, red, and green wines, new wine,
Phoenician and Greek wines, and white Mareotis
wine with a bouquet of violets.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh also took a cup from the hands of his
cup-bearer standing near his throne, and put to his
royal lips the strengthening drink.</p>
<p>Then sounded the harps, the lyres, the double
flutes, the lutes, accompanying a song of triumph
which choristers, ranged opposite the throne, one
knee on the ground, accentuated as they beat time
with the palms of their hands.</p>
<p>The repast began. The dishes, brought by Ethiopians
from the vast kitchens of the palace, where a
thousand slaves were busy preparing the feast in a
fiery atmosphere, were placed on tables close by the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</SPAN></span>
guests. The dishes, of scented wood admirably
carved, of bronze, of earthenware or porcelain
enamelled in brilliant colours, held large pieces of
beef, antelope legs, trussed geese, siluras from the
Nile, dough drawn out into long tubes and rolled,
cakes of sesamum and honey, green watermelons
with rosy meat, pomegranates full of rubies, grapes
the colour of amber or of amethyst. Wreaths of
papyrus crowned these dishes with their green foliage.
The cups were also wreathed in flowers, and in the
centre of the table, amid a vast heap of golden-coloured
bread stamped with designs and marked
with hieroglyphs, rose a tall vase whence emerged,
spraying as it fell, a vast sheaf of persolutas,
myrtles, pomegranates, convolvulus, chrysanthemums,
heliotropes, seriphiums, and periplocas, a mingling of
colours and of scents. Under the tables, around
the supporting pillar, were arranged pots of lotus.
Flowers, flowers everywhere, even under the seats of
the guests! The women wore them on their arms,
round their necks, on their heads in the shape of
bracelets, necklaces, and crowns; the lamps burned
amid huge bouquets, the dishes disappeared under
leaves, the wines sparkled amid violets and roses.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</SPAN></span>
It was a most characteristic, gigantic debauch of
flowers, a colossal orgy of scents, unknown to other
nations.</p>
<p>Slaves constantly brought from the gardens, which
they plundered without diminishing their wealth, armfuls
of rose laurel, of pomegranate, of lotus, to renew
the flowers which had faded, while servants cast
grains of nard and cinnamon upon the red-hot coals
of the censers.</p>
<p>When the dishes and the boxes carved in the shape
of birds, fishes, and chimeras, which held the sauces
and condiments, had been cleared away, as well as the
ivory, bronze, or wooden spatulæ, and the bronze and
flint knives, the guests washed their hands, and cups of
wine and fermented drinks kept on passing around.</p>
<p>The cup-bearer drew with a long-handled ladle the
dark wine and the transparent wine from two great,
golden vases adorned with figures of horses and rams,
which were held in equilibrium in front of the Pharaoh
by means of tripods on which they were set.</p>
<p>Female musicians appeared—for the orchestra of
male musicians had withdrawn. A wide gauze tunic
covered their slender, youthful bodies, veiling them no
more than the pure water of a pool conceals the form<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</SPAN></span>
of the bather who plunges into it. Papyrus wreaths
bound their thick hair and fell to the ground in long
tendrils; lotus flowers bloomed on top of their heads;
great golden rings sparkled in their ears, necklaces of
enamel and pearl encircled their necks, and bracelets
clanked and rattled on their wrists. One played on
the harp, another on the lute, a third on the double
flute, crossing her arms and using the right for the left
flute and the left for the right flute; a fourth placed
horizontally against her breast a five-stringed lyre; a
fifth struck the onager-skin of a square drum; and a
little girl seven or eight years of age, with flowers in
her hair and a belt drawn tight around her, beat time
by clapping her hands.</p>
<p>The dancers came in. They were slight, slender,
and as lithe as serpents; their great eyes shone between
the black lines of their lids, their pearly teeth
between the red bars of their lips. Long curls floated
down on their cheeks. Some wore full tunics striped
white and blue, which floated around them like a mist;
others wore mere pleated short skirts falling over the
hips to the knees, which allowed their beautiful, slender
legs and round muscular thighs to be easily seen.
They first assumed poses of languid voluptuousness<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</SPAN></span>
and indolent grace, then, waving branches of bloom
and clinking castanets, shaped like the head of Hathor,
striking tambourines with their little closed hands, or
making the tanned skin of drums resound under their
thumbs, they gave themselves up to swifter steps and
to bolder postures; they pirouetted, they whirled with
ever-increasing ardour. But the Pharaoh, thoughtful
and dreamy, did not condescend to bestow a glance of
satisfaction upon them; his fixed gaze did not even fall
upon them.</p>
<p>They withdrew, blushing and confused, pressing their
palpitating breasts with their hands.</p>
<p>Dwarfs with twisted feet, with swollen and deformed
bodies, whose grimaces were fortunate enough at times
to bring a smile to the majestic, stony face of the
Pharaoh, were no more successful; their contortions
did not bring a single smile to his lips, the corners of
which remained obstinately fixed.</p>
<p>To the sound of strange music produced by triangular
harps, sistra, castanets, cymbals, and bugles,
Egyptian clowns wearing high, white mitres of ridiculous
shape advanced, closing two fingers of their hand
and stretching out the other three, repeating their grotesque
gestures with automatic accuracy, and singing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</SPAN></span>
extravagant songs full of dissonances. His Majesty
never changed countenance.</p>
<p>Women wearing a small helmet from which depended
three long cords ending in a tassel, their wrists
and ankles bound with black leather bands, and wearing
close fitting drawers suspended by a single brace passed
over their shoulders, performed tricks of strength and
contortions each more surprising than another; posturing,
throwing themselves back, bending their supple
bodies like willow branches, and touching the ground
with their necks without displacing their heels, supporting
in that impossible attitude the weight of their companions;
others juggled with a ball, two balls, three
balls, before, behind, their arms crossed, astride of or
standing upon the loins of one of the women of the
company. One, indeed, the cleverest, put on blinkers
like Tmei, the goddess of justice, and caught the globes
in her hands without letting a single one fall. The
Pharaoh was not moved by these marvels.</p>
<p>He cared no more either for the prowess of two
combatants who, wearing a cestus on the left arm,
fought with sticks. Men throwing at a block of
wood knives which struck with miraculous accuracy
the spot indicated did not interest him either. He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</SPAN></span>
even refused the draught-board which the lovely Twea,
whom he looked upon usually with favour, presented to
him as she offered herself as an adversary. In vain
Amense, Taïa, Hont-Reché ventured upon timid
caresses. He rose and withdrew to his apartments
without having uttered a word.</p>
<p>Motionless on the threshold stood the servant who,
during the triumphal procession, had noticed the imperceptible
gesture of His Majesty.</p>
<p>He said: "O King, loved of the gods! I left the
procession, crossed the Nile on a light papyrus-bark
and followed the vessel of the woman on whom your
hawk glance deigned to fall. She is Tahoser, the
daughter of the priest Petamounoph."</p>
<p>The Pharaoh smiled and said: "It is well. I give
thee a chariot and its horses, a pectoral ornament of
beads of lapis-lazuli and cornelian, with a golden circle
weighing as much as the green basalt weight."</p>
<p>Meanwhile the sorrowing women pulled the flowers
from their hair, tore their gauze robes, and sobbed,
stretched out upon the polished stone floors which reflected,
mirror-like, the image of their beautiful bodies,
saying, "One of these accursed barbaric captives must
have stolen our master's heart."</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">V</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">O</span><span class="upper">n</span> the left bank of the Nile stood the villa of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</SPAN></span>
Poëri, the young man who had filled Tahoser
with such emotion when, proceeding
to view the triumphal return of the Pharaoh, she had
passed in her ox-drawn car under the balcony whereon
leaned carelessly the handsome dreamer.</p>
<p>It was a vast estate, having something of the farm
and something of the house of pleasaunce, which
stretched between the banks of the river and the foothills
of the Libyan chain, over an immense extent of
ground, covered during the inundation by the reddish
waters laden with fertilising mud, and which during
the rest of the year was irrigated by skilfully planned
canals.</p>
<p>A wall, built of limestone drawn from the neighbouring
mountains, enclosed the garden, the store-houses,
the cellars, and the dwelling. The walls sloped slightly
inwards and were surmounted by an acroter with metal
spikes, capable of stopping whosoever might attempt
to climb over. Three doors, the leaves of which were
hung on massive pillars, each adorned with a giant<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</SPAN></span>
lotus-flower planted on top of the capital, were cut in
the wall on three of the sides. In place of the fourth
door rose a building which looked out into the garden
from one of its façades, and on the road from the
other.</p>
<p>The building in no respect resembled the houses in
Thebes. The architect had not sought to reproduce
either the heavy foundations, the great monumental
lines, or the rich materials of city buildings, but had
striven to attain elegant lightness, refreshing simplicity,
and pastoral gracefulness in harmony with the verdure
and the peacefulness of the country.</p>
<p>The lower courses of the building, which the Nile
reached in times of high flood, were of sandstone, and
the rest of the building of sycamore wood. Tall,
fluted columns, extremely slender and resembling the
staffs of the standards before the king's palace, sprang
from the ground and rose unbroken to the palm-leaved
cornice, where swelled out, under a simple cube, their
lotus-flowered capitals.</p>
<p>The single story built above the ground-floor did
not rise as high as the mouldings which bordered
the terraced roof, and thus left an empty space
between the ceiling and the flat roof of the villa.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</SPAN></span>
Short, small pillars, with flowery capitals, divided into
groups of four by the tall columns, formed an open
gallery around this aerial apartment open to every
wind.</p>
<p>Windows broader at the base than at the top of the
opening, in accordance with the Egyptian style, and
closed with double sashes, lighted the first story. The
ground-floor was lighted by narrower windows placed
closer to each other.</p>
<p>Above the door, which was adorned with deep
mouldings, was a cross planted in a heart and framed
in a parallelogram cut in the lower part to allow the
sign of favourable omen to pass; the meaning being,
as every one knows, "A good house."</p>
<p>The whole building was painted in soft, pleasant
colours; the lotus of the capitals showed alternately
red and blue in the green capsules; the gilded palm-leaves
of the cornices stood out upon a blue background;
the white walls of the façades set off the
painted framework of the windows, and lines of red
and green outlined panels and imitated the joints of
the stone.</p>
<p>Outside the enclosing wall, which was built flush
with the dwelling, stood a row of trees cut to a point,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</SPAN></span>
which formed a screen against the dusty southern wind,
always laden with the desert heat.</p>
<p>In front of the building grew a vast vineyard.
Stone shafts with lotus capitals placed at symmetrical
distances outlined, through the vineyard, walks cutting
each other at right angles. Boughs of vine leaves
joined one plant to another and formed a succession
of leafy arches under which one could walk erect.
The ground, carefully raked and heaped up at the foot
of each plant, contrasted by its brown colour with the
bright green of the leaves, amid which played the sunbeams
and the breeze.</p>
<p>On either side of the building two oblong pools bore
upon their transparent surface aquatic birds and flowers.
At the corners of these pools four great palm-trees
spread out fanwise their green wreath of leaves at
the top of their scaly trunks.</p>
<p>Compartments, regularly traced by narrow paths,
divided the garden around the vineyard, marking the
place of each different crop. Along a sort of belt
walk which ran entirely around the enclosure dôm
palms alternated with sycamores, squares of ground
were planted with fig, peach, almond, olive, pomegranate
and other fruit trees; others, again, were<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</SPAN></span>
planted with ornamental trees only: the tamarisk, the
cassia, the acacia, the myrtle, the mimosa, and some
still rarer gum-trees found beyond the cataracts of the
Nile, under the Tropic of Cancer, in the oases of the
Libyan Desert, and upon the shores of the Erythrean
Gulf; for the Egyptians are very fond of cultivating
shrubs and flowers, and they exact new species as a
tribute from the peoples they have conquered.</p>
<p>Flowers of all kinds, and many varieties of watermelons,
lupines, and onions adorned the beds. Two
other pools of greater size, fed by the covered canal
leading from the Nile, each bore a small boat to enable
the master of the estate to enjoy the pleasure of fishing.
Fishes of divers forms and brilliant colours
played in the limpid waters among the stalks and the
broad leaves of the lotus. Banks of luxuriant vegetation
surrounded these pools and were reflected in their
green mirror.</p>
<p>Near each pool rose a kiosk formed of slender
columns bearing a light roof and surrounded by an
open balcony whence one could enjoy the sight of
the waters and breathe the coolness of the morning and
the evening while reclining on a rustic seat of wood
and reeds.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The garden, lighted by the rising sun, had a bright,
happy, restful look. The green of the trees was so
brilliant, the colours of the flowers so splendid, air and
light filled so joyously the vast enclosure with breeze
and sunbeams, the contrast of the rich greenness with
the bare whiteness of the chalky sterility of the
Libyan chain, the crest of which was seen above
the walls cutting into the blue sky, was so marked
that one felt the wish to stop and set up one's tent
there. It looked like a nest purposely built for a
longed-for happiness.</p>
<p>Along the walks travelled servants bearing on their
shoulders a yoke of bent wood, from the ends of
which hung by ropes two clay jars filled at the reservoirs,
the contents of which they poured into small
basins dug at the foot of each plant. Others,
handling a jar suspended from a pole working on a
post, filled with water a wooden gutter which carried
it to the parts of the garden that needed irrigating.
Gardeners were clipping the trees to a point or into
an elliptical shape. With the help of a hoe formed of
two pieces of hard wood bound by a cord and thus
making a hook, other workmen were preparing the
ground for planting.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was a delightful sight to see these men with
their black, woolly hair, their bodies the colour of
brick, dressed only in a pair of white drawers, going
and coming amid the greenery with orderly activity,
singing a rustic song to which their steps kept time.
The birds perched on the trees seemed to know them,
and scarcely to fly off when, as they passed, they
rubbed against the branches.</p>
<p>The door of the building opened, and Poëri appeared
on the threshold. Though he was dressed in the
Egyptian fashion, his features were not in accordance
with the national type, and it took no long observation
to see that he did not belong to the native race of
the valley of the Nile. He was assuredly not a
<i>Rot'en'no</i>. His thin aquiline nose, his flat cheeks,
his serious-looking, closed lips, the perfect oval of
his face, were essentially different from the African
nose, the projecting cheek-bones, the thick lips, and
broad face characteristic of the Egyptians. Nor was
his complexion the same; the copper tint was replaced
by an olive pallor, which the rich, pure blood flushed
slightly; his eyes, instead of showing black between
their lines of antimony, were of a dark blue like the
sky of night; his hair, silkier and softer, curled in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</SPAN></span>
less crisp undulations, and his shoulders did not
exhibit that rigid, transversal line which is the characteristic
sign of the race as represented on the statues
of the temples and the frescoes of the tombs.</p>
<p>All these characteristics went to form a remarkable
beauty, which Petamounoph's daughter had been unable
to resist. Since the day when Poëri had by chance
appeared to her, leaning upon the gallery of the building—which
was his favourite place when he was
not busy with the farm work—she had returned
many times under pretext of driving, and had made
her chariot pass under the balcony of the villa; but
although she had put on her handsomest tunics, fastened
around her neck her richest necklaces and encircled
her wrists with her most wondrously chased
bracelets, wreathed her hair with the freshest lotus-flowers,
drawn to the temples the black line of her
eyes, and brightened her cheeks with rouge, Poëri
had never seemed to pay the smallest attention to her.</p>
<p>And yet Tahoser was rarely beautiful, and the
love which the pensive tenant of the villa disdained,
the Pharaoh would willingly have purchased at a
great price. In exchange for the priest's daughter he
would have given Twea, Taïa, Amense, Hont-Reché,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</SPAN></span>
his Asiatic captives, his vases of gold and silver, his
necklaces of gems, his war chariots, his invincible army,
his sceptre,—all, in a word, even his tomb, on which
since the beginning of his reign had been working in
the darkness thousands upon thousands of workmen.</p>
<p>Love is not the same in the hot regions swept
by a fiery wind as on the icy shores where calm
descends from heaven with the cold; it is not blood
but fire that flows in the veins. So Tahoser languished
and fainted, though she breathed perfumes,
surrounded herself with flowers, and drank draughts
that bring forgetfulness. Music wearied her or overexcited
her feelings; she had ceased to take any
pleasure in the dances of her companions; at night,
sleep fled from her eyelids, and breathless, stifling,
her breast heaving with sighs, she would leave her
sumptuous couch and stretch herself out upon the
broad slabs of the pavement, pressing her bosom
against the hard granite as if she wished to breathe in
its coolness.</p>
<p>On the night which followed the triumphal entry
of the Pharaoh, Tahoser felt so unhappy and life
seemed so empty that she determined not to die
without having made at least one last effort.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>She wrapped herself up in a piece of common stuff,
kept on but a single bracelet of odoriferous wood,
twisted a piece of striped gauze around her head, and
with the first light of the dawn, without being heard
by Nofré, who was dreaming of the handsome Ahmosis,
she left her room, crossed the garden, drew the
bolts of the water gate, proceeded to the quay, waked
a waterman asleep in his papyrus boat, and had herself
transported to the other bank of the stream.</p>
<p>Staggering and pressing her little hand to her heart
to still its beating, she drew near Poëri's dwelling.</p>
<p>It was now broad daylight, and the gates were
opening to give passage to the ox teams going to work,
and to the flocks going forth to pasture.</p>
<p>Tahoser knelt on the threshold and placed her hand
above her head with a supplicating gesture, more beautiful,
perhaps, even in this humble attitude and in her
mean dress. Her bosom rose and fell and tears
streamed down her pale cheeks.</p>
<p>Poëri saw her and took her for what she was,
indeed, a most unhappy woman.</p>
<p>"Enter," said he; "enter without fear. This house
is hospitable."</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">VI</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">ahoser,</span> encouraged by the friendly words<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span>
of Poëri, abandoned her supplicating attitude
and rose. A rich glow flushed
her cheek but now so pale; shame came back to
her with hope; she blushed at the strange action to
which love had driven her; she hesitated to pass
the threshold which she had crossed so often in her
dreams. Her maidenly scruples, stifled for a time
by passion, resumed their power in the presence of
reality.</p>
<p>The young man, thinking that timidity, the companion
of misfortune, alone prevented Tahoser from
entering the house, said to her in a soft, musical voice
marked by a foreign accent,—</p>
<p>"Enter, maiden, and do not tremble so. My home
is large enough to shelter you. If you are weary,
rest; if you are thirsty, my servants will bring you
pure water cooled in porous clay-jars; if you are
hungry, they will set before you wheaten bread, dates,
and dried figs."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Petamounoph's daughter, encouraged by these hospitable
words, entered the house, which justified the
hieroglyph of welcome inscribed upon the gate.</p>
<p>Poëri took her to a room on the ground-floor, the
walls of which were painted with green vertical bands
ending in lotus flowers, making the apartment pleasant
to the eye. A fine mat of reeds woven in symmetrical
designs covered the floor. At each corner of the
room great sheaves of flowers filled tall vases, held
in place by pedestals, and scattered their perfume
through the cool shade of the hall. At the back
a low sofa, the wood-work of which was ornamented
with foliage and chimerical animals, tempted with its
broad bed the fatigued or idle guest. Two chairs, the
seats made of Nile reeds, with sloping back, strengthened
by stays, a wooden foot-stool cut in the shape
of a shell and resting upon three legs, an oblong table,
also three-legged, bordered with inlaid work and ornamented
in the centre with uræus snakes, wreaths, and
agricultural symbols, and on which was placed a
vase of rose and blue lotus,—completed the furniture
of the room, which was pastoral in its simplicity
and gracefulness.</p>
<p>Poëri sat down on the sofa. Tahoser, bending one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span>
leg under her thigh and raising one knee, knelt before
the young man who fixed upon her a glance full of
kindly questioning. She was most lovely in that attitude.
The gauze veil in which she was enveloped
exhibited, as it fell back, the rich mass of her hair
bound with a narrow white ribbon, and revealed
her gentle, sweet, sad face. Her sleeveless tunic
showed her lovely arms bare to the shoulder and left
them free.</p>
<p>"I am called Poëri," said the young man; "I am
steward of the royal estates, and have the right to wear
the gilded ram's-horns on my state head-dress."</p>
<p>"And I am called Hora," replied Tahoser, who
had arranged her little story beforehand. "My parents
are dead, their goods were sold by their creditors,
leaving me just enough to pay for their burial;
so I have been left alone and without means. But
since you are kind enough to receive me, I shall
repay you for your hospitality. I have been taught
the work of women, although my condition did not
oblige me to perform it. I can spin and weave
linen with thread of various colours; I can imitate
flowers and embroider ornaments on stuffs; I can
even, when you are tired by your work and overcome<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span>
by the heat of the day, delight you with song, harp,
or lute."</p>
<p>"Hora, you are welcome to my dwelling," said the
young man. "You will find here, without taxing
your strength,—for you seem to me to be delicate,—occupation
suitable for a maiden who has known
better days; among my maids are gentle and good
girls who will be pleasant companions for you, and
who will show you how we live in this pastoral home.
So the days will pass, and perhaps brighter ones will
dawn for you. If not, you can quietly grow old in
my home in the midst of abundance and peace. The
guest whom the gods send is sacred."</p>
<p>Having said these words, Poëri arose, as if to avoid
the thanks of the supposed Hora, who had prostrated
herself at his feet and was kissing them, as do wretches
who have just been granted a favour; but the lover
in her had taken the place of the suppliant, and her
ripe, rosy lips found it hard to leave those beautiful,
clean, white feet that resembled the jasper feet of
the gods.</p>
<p>Before going out to superintend the work of the
farm, Poëri turned around on the threshold of the
room and said,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p>"Hora, remain here until I have appointed a room
for you. I shall send you some food by one of my
servants."</p>
<p>And he walked away quietly, the whip which
marked his rank hanging from his wrist. The workmen
saluted him, placing one hand on their head and
the other to the ground, but by the cordiality of their
salute it was easily seen that he was a kind master.
Sometimes he stopped to give an order or a piece
of advice, for he was greatly skilled in matters of
agriculture and gardening. Then he resumed his
walk, looking to the right and left and carefully inspecting
everything. Tahoser, who had humbly accompanied
him to the door, and had crouched on the
threshold, her elbow on her knee and her chin on the
palm of her hand, followed him with her glance until
he disappeared under the leafy arches. She kept
on looking long after he had passed out by the gate
into the fields.</p>
<p>A servant, in accordance with an order which Poëri
had given when he went out, brought on a tray a
goose-leg, onions baked in the ashes, wheaten bread
and figs, and a jar of water closed with myrtle
flowers.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"The master sends you this. Eat, maiden, and
regain your strength."</p>
<p>Tahoser was not very hungry, but her part required
that she should exhibit some appetite; the poor must
necessarily devour the food which pity throws them.
So she ate, and drank a long draught of the cool water.
The servant having gone, she resumed her contemplative
attitude. Innumerable contradictory thoughts
filled her mind: sometimes with maidenly shame she
repented the step she had taken; at others, carried
away by her passion, she exulted in her own audacity.
Then she said to herself: "Here I am, it is true,
under Poëri's roof; I shall see him freely every day;
I shall silently drink in his beauty, which is more that
of a god than of a man; I shall hear his lovely voice,
which is like the music of the soul. But will he,
who never paid any attention to me when I passed
by his home dressed in my most brilliant garments,
adorned with my richest gems, perfumed with scents
and flowers, mounted on my painted and gilded car
surmounted by a sunshade, and surrounded like a
queen with a retinue of servants,—will he pay more
attention to the poor suppliant maiden whom he has
received through pity and who is dressed in mean<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span>
stuff? Will my wretchedness accomplish what my
wealth could not do? It may be, after all, that I
am ugly, and that Nofré flatters me when she maintains
that from the unknown sources of the Nile
to the place where it casts itself into the sea there
is no lovelier maid than her mistress. Yet no,—I
am beautiful; the blazing eyes of men have told
me so a thousand times, and especially have the annoyed
airs and the disdainful pouts of the women
who passed by me confirmed it. Will Poëri, who
has inspired me with such mad passion, never love
me? He would have received just as kindly an old,
wrinkled woman with withered breasts, clothed in
hideous rags, and with feet grimy with dust. Any
one but he would at once have recognised, under
the disguise of Hora, Tahoser the daughter of the
high-priest Petamounoph; but he never cast his
eyes upon me any more than does the basalt statue
of a god upon the devotees who offer up to it
quarters of antelope and baskets of lotus."</p>
<p>These thoughts cast down the courage of Tahoser.
Then she regained confidence, and said to herself
that her beauty, her youth, her love would surely
at last move that insensible heart. She would be<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span>
so sweet, so attentive, so devoted, she would use so
much art and coquetry in dressing herself, that certainly
Poëri would not be able to resist. Then she promised
herself to reveal to him that the humble servant-maid
was a girl of high rank, possessing slaves,
estates, and palaces, and she foresaw, in her imagination,
a life of splendid and radiant happiness following
upon a period of obscure felicity.</p>
<p>"First and foremost, let me make myself beautiful,"
she said, as she rose and walked towards one of the
pools.</p>
<p>On reaching it, she knelt upon the stone margin,
washed her face, her neck, and her shoulders. The
disturbed water showed her in its mirror, broken by
innumerable ripples, her vague, trembling image which
smiled up to her as through green gauze; and the little
fishes, seeing her shadow and thinking that crumbs of
bread were about to be thrown to them, drew near the
edge in shoals. She gathered two or three lotus
flowers which bloomed on the surface of the pool,
twisted their stems around the band that held in her
hair, and made thus a head-dress which all the skill of
Nofré could never have equalled, even had she emptied
her mistress's jewel-caskets.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>When she had finished and rose refreshed and radiant,
a tame ibis, which had gravely watched her, drew
itself up on its two long legs, stretched out its long
neck, and flapped its wings two or three times as if to
applaud her.</p>
<p>Having finished her toilet, Tahoser resumed her
place at the door of the house and waited for Poëri.
The heavens were of a deep blue; the light shimmered
in visible waves through the transparent air; intoxicating
perfumes rose from the flowers and the plants; the
birds hopped amid the branches, pecking at the berries;
the fluttering butterflies chased one another. This
charming spectacle was rendered yet more bright by
human activity, which enlivened it by the communication
of a soul. The gardeners came and went, the servants
returned laden with panniers of grass or vegetables;
others, standing at the foot of the fig trees, caught in
baskets the fruits thrown to them by monkeys trained to
pluck them and perched on the highest branches.</p>
<p>Tahoser contemplated with delight this beautiful
landscape, the peacefulness of which was filling her
soul, and she said to herself, "How sweet it would be
to be beloved here, amid the light, the scents, and the
flowers."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Poëri returned. He had finished his tour of inspection,
and withdrew to his room to spend the burning
hours of the day. Tahoser followed him timidly, and
stood near the door, ready to leave at the slightest
gesture, but Poëri signed to her to remain.</p>
<p>She came forward timidly and knelt upon the mat.</p>
<p>"You tell me, Hora, that you can play the lute.
Take that instrument hanging upon the wall, strike its
cords and sing me some old air, very sweet, very
tender, and very slow. The sleep which comes to one
cradled by music is full of lovely dreams."</p>
<p>The priest's daughter took down the mandore, drew
near the couch on which Poëri was stretched, leaned
the head of the lute against the wooden bed-head hollowed
out in the shape of a half-moon, stretched her
arm to the end of the handle of the instrument, the
body of which was pressed against her beating heart,
let her hand flutter along the strings, and struck a few
chords. Then she sang in a true, though somewhat
trembling voice, an old Egyptian air, the vague sigh
breathed by the ancestors and transmitted from generation
to generation, and in which recurred constantly
one and the same phrase of a sweet and penetrating
monotony.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"In very truth," said Poëri, turning his dark blue
eyes upon the maid, "you know rhythm as does a
professional musician, and you might practise your art
in the palaces of kings. But you give to your song a
new expression; the air you are singing, one would
think you are inventing it, and you impart to it a
magical charm. Your voice is no longer that of
mourning; another woman seems to shine through
you as the light shines from behind a veil. Who are
you?"</p>
<p>"I am Hora," replied Tahoser. "Have I not
already told you my story? Only, I have washed
from my face the dust of the road, I have smoothed
out the folds in my crushed gown and put a flower
in my hair. If I am poor, that is no reason why I
should be ugly, and the gods sometimes refuse beauty
to the rich. But does it please you that I should
go on?"</p>
<p>"Yes. Repeat that air; it fascinates, benumbs me,
it takes away my memory like a cup of nepenthe.
Repeat it until sleep and forgetfulness fall upon my
eyelids."</p>
<p>Poëri's eyes, fixed at first upon Tahoser, soon were
half-closed, and then completely so. The maiden con<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span>tinued
to strike the strings of the mandore, and sang
more and more softly the refrain of her song. Poëri
slept. She stopped and fanned him with a palm-leaf
fan thrown on the table.</p>
<p>Poëri was handsome, and sleep imparted to his pure
features an indescribable expression of languor and tenderness.
His long eyelashes falling upon his cheeks
seemed to conceal from him a celestial vision, and his
beautiful, red, half-open lips trembled as if they were
speaking mute words to an invisible being. After a
long contemplation, emboldened by silence and solitude,
Tahoser, forgetting herself, bent over the sleeper's
brow, kept back her breath, pressed her heart with her
hand, and placed a timid, furtive, winged kiss upon it.
Then she drew back ashamed and blushing. The
sleeper had faintly felt in his dream Tahoser's lips; he
uttered a sigh and said in Hebrew, "Oh, Ra'hel,
beloved Ra'hel!"</p>
<p>Fortunately these words of an unknown tongue conveyed
no meaning to Tahoser, and she again took up
the palm-leaf fan, hoping yet fearing that Poëri would
awake.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">VII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="upper">hen</span> day dawned, Nofré, who slept on a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span>
cot at her mistress's feet, was surprised at
not hearing Tahoser call her as usual by
clapping her hands. She rose on her elbow and saw
that the bed was empty; yet the first beams of the
sun, striking the frieze of the portico, were only now
beginning to cast on the wall the shadow of the capitals
and of the upper part of the shafts of the pillars.
Usually Tahoser was not an early riser, and she rarely
rose without the assistance of her women. Neither did
she ever go out until after her hair had been dressed,
and perfumed water had been poured over her lovely
body, while she knelt, her hands crossed upon her
bosom.</p>
<p>Nofré, feeling uneasy, put on a transparent gown,
slipped her feet into sandals of palm fibre, and set
out in search of her mistress. She looked for her first
under the portico of the two courts, thinking that,
unable to sleep, Tahoser had perhaps gone to enjoy
the coolness of dawn in the inner cloisters; but she
was not there.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Let me visit the garden," said Nofré to herself;
"perhaps she took a fancy to see the night dew sparkle
on the leaves of the plants and to watch for once the
awakening of the flowers."</p>
<p>Although she traversed the garden in every direction,
she found it absolutely untenanted. Nofré looked
along every walk, under every arbour, under every arch,
into every grove, but unsuccessfully. She entered
the kiosk at the end of the arbour, but she did not find
Tahoser; she hastened to the pond, in which her mistress
might have taken a fancy to bathe, as she sometimes
did with her companions, upon the granite steps
which led from the edge of the basin to the bottom of
fine sand. The broad nymphœa-leaves floated on the
surface, and did not appear to have been disturbed;
the ducks, plunging their blue necks into the calm
water, alone rippled it, and they saluted Nofré with
joyous cries.</p>
<p>The faithful maid began to feel seriously alarmed;
she roused the whole household. The slaves and
the maids emerged from their cells, and informed by
Nofré of the strange disappearance of Tahoser, proceeded
to make most minute search. They ascended
the terraces, rummaged every room, every corner,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>
every place where she might possibly be. Nofré, in
her agitation, even opened the boxes containing the
dresses and the caskets holding the jewels, as if they
could possibly have held her mistress. Unquestionably
Tahoser was not within the dwelling.</p>
<p>An old and consummately prudent servant bethought
himself of examining the sand of the walks in search
of the footprints of his young mistress. The heavy
bolts of the gate leading into the city were in place,
and this proved that Tahoser had not gone out that
way. It is true that Nofré had carelessly traversed
every path, marking them with her sandals, but by
bending close to the ground, old Souhem speedily
noticed among Nofré's footprints a slight imprint made
by a narrow, dainty sole belonging to a much smaller
foot than the maid's. He followed this track, which
led him, passing under the arbour, from the pylon in
the court to the water gate. The bolts, as he pointed
out to Nofré, had been drawn, and the two leaves of
the door were held merely by their weight; therefore
Petamounoph's daughter had gone out that way.
Farther on the track was lost; the brick quay had
preserved no trace; the boatman who had carried
Tahoser across had not returned to his station; the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span>
others were asleep, and when questioned replied that
they had seen nothing. One, however, did report
that a woman, poorly dressed and belonging apparently
to the lowest class, had been ferried over early
to the other side of the river to the Memnonia quarter,
no doubt to carry out some funeral rite. This description,
which in no way tallied with the elegant Tahoser,
completely upset the suppositions of Nofré and
Souhem.</p>
<p>They returned to the house sad and disappointed.
The men and women servants sat down on the
ground in desolate attitudes, letting one of their hands
hang down, its palm turned up, and placing the other
on their head, all of them calling together in plaintive
chorus, "Woe! woe! woe! Our mistress is gone!"</p>
<p>"By Oms, the dog of the lower regions, I shall
find her," said old Souhem, "even if I have to walk
living to the very confines of the Western Region
to which travel the dead. She was a kind mistress;
she gave us food in abundance, did not exact excessive
labour, and caused us to be beaten only when we
deserved it and in moderation. Her foot was not
heavy on our bowed necks, and in her home a slave
might believe himself free."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Woe! woe! woe!" repeated the men and women
as they cast dust upon their heads.</p>
<p>"Alas! dear mistress, who knows where you are
now?" said her faithful maid, whose tears were
flowing. "Perchance some enchanter compelled you
to leave your palace through a spell in order to work
his odious will on you. He will lacerate your fair
body, will draw your heart out through a cut like that
made by the dissectors, will throw your remains to
the ferocious crocodiles, and on the day of reunion
your mutilated soul will find shapeless remains only.
You will not go to join, at the end of the passages
of which the undertaker keeps the plan, the painted
and gilded mummy of your father, the high-priest
Petamounoph, in the funeral chamber which has been
cut out for you."</p>
<p>"Calm yourself, Nofré," said old Souhem; "let us
not despair too soon. It may be that Tahoser will
soon return. She has no doubt yielded to some fancy
which we cannot guess, and presently we shall see her
come back, gay and smiling, holding aquatic flowers
in her hands."</p>
<p>Wiping her eyes with the corner of her dress, the
maid nodded assent. Souhem crouched down, bend<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span>ing
his knees like those of the dog-faced figures which
are roughly carved out of a square block of basalt,
and pressing his temples between his dry hands,
seemed to reflect deeply. His face of a reddish
brown, his sunken eyes, his prominent jaws, the
deeply wrinkled cheeks, his straight hair framing in
his face like bristles, made him altogether like the
monkey-faced gods. He was certainly not a god, but
he looked very much like a monkey.</p>
<p>The result of his meditations, anxiously awaited
by Nofré, was thus expressed: "The daughter of
Petamounoph is in love."</p>
<p>"Who told you?" cried Nofré, who thought that
she was the only one who could read her mistress's
heart.</p>
<p>"No one; but Tahoser is very beautiful; she has
already beheld sixteen times the rise and fall of the
Nile. Sixteen is the number symbolical of voluptuousness;
and for some time past she has been calling at
unaccustomed hours her players on the harp, the lute,
and the flute, like one who seeks to calm the agitation
of her heart by music."</p>
<p>"You speak sensibly, and wisdom dwells in your
old bald head. But how have you learned to know<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span>
women,—you who merely dig the earth in the garden
and bear jars of water on your shoulders?"</p>
<p>The slave opened his lips with a silent smile and
exhibited two rows of teeth fit to crush date-stones.
The grin meant, "I have not always been old and
a captive."</p>
<p>Enlightened by Souhem's suggestion, Nofré immediately
thought of the handsome Ahmosis, the oëris
of the Pharaoh, who so often passed below the terrace,
and who had looked so splendid on his war chariot
in the triumphal procession. As she was in love
with him herself, though she was not fully aware of
it, she assumed that her mistress shared her feelings.
She put on a somewhat heavier dress and repaired to
the officer's dwelling. It was there, she fancied, that
Tahoser would certainly be found.</p>
<p>The young officer was seated on a low seat at
the end of the room. On the walls hung trophies of
different weapons: the leather tunic covered with
bronze plates on which was engraved the cartouche
of the Pharaoh; the brazen poniard, with the jade
handle open-worked to allow the fingers to pass
through; the flat-edged battle-axe, the falchion with
curved blade; the helmet with its double plume of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span>
ostrich-feathers; the triangular bow; and the red-feathered
arrows. His distinctive necklaces were
placed upon pedestals, and open coffers showed booty
taken from the enemy.</p>
<p>When he saw Nofré, whom he knew well, standing
on the threshold, he felt quick pleasure, his brown
cheeks flushed, his muscles quivered, his heart beat
high. He thought Nofré brought him a message
from Tahoser, although the priest's daughter had never
taken notice of his glances; but the man to whom
the gods have imparted the gift of beauty easily fancies
that all women fall in love with him. He rose and
took a few steps towards Nofré, whose anxious glance
examined the corners of the room to make sure
whether Tahoser was there or not.</p>
<p>"What brings you here, Nofré?" said Ahmosis,
seeing that the young maid, full of her search, did not
break silence. "Your mistress is well, I hope, for I
think I saw her yesterday at the Pharaoh's entry."</p>
<p>"You should know whether my mistress is well
better than any one else," replied Nofré; "for she has
fled from her home without informing any one of her
intentions. I could swear by Hathor that you know
the refuge which she chose."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"She has disappeared!—what are you talking
about?" cried Ahmosis, with a surprise that was unquestionably
genuine.</p>
<p>"I thought she loved you," said Nofré, "and sometimes
the best-behaved maidens lose their heads. So
she is not here?"</p>
<p>"The god Phrah, who sees everything, knows where
she is, but not one of his beams, which end in hands,
has fallen on her within these walls. Look for yourself
and visit every room."</p>
<p>"I believe you, Ahmosis, and I must go; for if
Tahoser had come, you could not conceal it from her
faithful Nofré, who would have asked nothing better
than to serve your loves. You are handsome; she is
very rich and a virgin; the gods would have beheld
your marriage with pleasure."</p>
<p>Nofré returned to the house more anxious and more
upset than before. She feared that the servants might
be suspected of having killed Tahoser in order to seize
on her riches, and that the judges would seek to make
them confess under torture what they did not actually
know.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh, on his part, was also thinking of
Tahoser. After having made the libations and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span>
offerings required by the ritual, he had seated himself
in the inner court of the harem, and was sunk in
thought, paying no attention to the gambols of his
women, who, nude and crowned with flowers, were
disporting themselves in the transparent waters of the
piscina, splashing each other and uttering shrill, sonorous
bursts of laughter, in order to attract the attention
of the master, who had not made up his mind, contrary
to his habit, which of them should be the favourite
queen that week.</p>
<p>It was a charming picture which these beautiful
women presented; in a framework of shrubs and
flowers, in the centre of the court, surrounded by
columns painted in brilliant colours, in the clear light
of an azure sky, across which flew from time to time
an ibis with outstretched neck and trailing legs, their
shapely bodies shone in the water like submerged
statues of jasper.</p>
<p>Amense and Twea, weary of swimming, had
emerged from the water, and kneeling on the edge of
the basin, were spreading out to dry in the sun their
thick black hair, the long locks of which made their
white skins seem whiter still. A few last drops of
water ran down their shining shoulders and their arms<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span>
polished like jade. Maids rubbed them with aromatic
oil and essences, while a young Ethiopian girl held out
the calyx of a large flower so that they might breathe
its perfume.</p>
<p>It might have been thought that the artist who had
carved the decorative <i>bassi-relievi</i> of the rooms in the
harem had taken these graceful groups as models;
but the Pharaoh could not have looked with a colder
glance at the designs cut in the stone. Perched on
the back of his armchair the tame monkey was eating
dates and cracking its jaws; against the master's
legs the tame cat rubbed itself, arching its back;
the deformed dwarf pulled the monkey's tail and the
cat's moustaches, making the one scratch and the
other chatter, a performance which usually caused
His Majesty to smile; but His Majesty was not in
a smiling mood on that day. He put the cat aside,
made the monkey get off the armchair, smote the
dwarf on the head, and walked toward the granite
apartments.</p>
<p>Each of those rooms was formed of blocks of prodigious
size, and closed by stone gates which no human
power could have forced unless the secret of opening
them were known. Within these halls were kept the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</SPAN></span>
riches of the Pharaoh, and the booty taken from conquered
nations. They held ingots of precious metals,
crowns of gold and silver, neckplates and bracelets
of cloisonné enamel, earrings which shone like the
disc of Moui, necklaces of seven rows of cornelian,
lapis-lazuli, red jasper, pearls, agates, sardonyx, and
onyx; exquisitely chased anklets, belts, with plates
engraved with hieroglyphs, rings with scarabæi set
in them; quantities of fishes, crocodiles, and hearts
stamped out of gold, serpents in enamel twisted on
themselves; bronze vases, flagons of wavy alabaster,
and of blue glass on which wound white spirals; coffers
of enamelled ware; boxes of sandal wood of
strange and chimerical forms; heaps of aromatic
gums from all countries; blocks of ebony; precious
stuffs so fine that a whole piece could have been pulled
through a ring; white and black ostrich plumes, and
others coloured in various ways; monstrously huge
elephant's-tusks, cups of gold, silver, gilded glass;
statues marvellous both as regards the material and
the workmanship.</p>
<p>In every room the Pharaoh caused to be taken a
litter-load borne by two robust slaves of Kousch and
Scheto, and clapping his hands, he called Timopht,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</SPAN></span>
the servant who had followed Tahoser, and said to
him, "Have all these things taken to Tahoser, the
daughter of the high-priest Petamounoph, from the
Pharaoh."</p>
<p>Timopht placed himself at the head of the procession,
which crossed the Nile on a royal barge, and
soon the slaves with their load reached Tahoser's
house.</p>
<p>"For Tahoser, from the Pharaoh," said Timopht,
knocking at the door.</p>
<p>At the sight of those treasures Nofré nearly fainted,
half with fear, half with amazement. She dreaded
lest the King should put her to death on learning that
the priest's daughter was no longer there.</p>
<p>"Tahoser has gone," said she, tremulously, "and I
swear by the four sacred geese, Amset, Sis, Soumauts,
and Kebhsniv, which fly to the four quarters of the
wind, that I know not where she is."</p>
<p>"The Pharaoh beloved of Phré, favourite of
Ammon Ra, has sent these gifts,—I cannot take
them back. Keep them until Tahoser is found. You
shall answer for them on your head. Have them put
away in rooms and guarded by faithful servants,"
replied the envoy of the King.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>When Timopht returned to the palace and, prostrate,
his elbows close to his sides, his brow in the dust,
said that Tahoser had vanished, the King became very
wroth, and he struck the slab of the flooring so fiercely
with his sceptre that the slab was split.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">VIII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">ahoser,</span> nevertheless, scarce bestowed a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</SPAN></span>
thought on Nofré, her favourite maid,
or on the anxiety which her absence
would necessarily cause. The beloved mistress had
completely forgotten her beautiful home in Thebes,
her servants, and her ornaments,—a most difficult
and incredible thing in a woman. The daughter
of Petamounoph had not the least suspicion of the
Pharaoh's love for her; she had not observed the
glance full of desire which had fallen upon her from
the heights of that majesty which nothing on earth
could move. Had she seen it, she would have deposited
the royal love as an offering, with all the
flowers of her soul, at the feet of Poëri.</p>
<p>While driving her spindle with her toe to make
it ascend along the thread,—for this was the task
which had been set her,—she followed with her
glance every motion of the young Hebrew, her looks
enveloped him like a caress. She silently enjoyed
the happiness of remaining near him in the building
to which he had given her access.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>If Poëri had turned towards her, he would no doubt
have been struck by the moist brilliancy of her eyes,
the sudden blushes which flushed her fair cheeks,
the quick beating of her heart which might be guessed
by the rising and falling of her bosom; but seated at a
table, he bent over a leaf of papyrus on which, with
the help of a reed, taking ink from a hollowed slab of
alabaster, he inscribed accounts in demotic numbers.</p>
<p>Did Poëri perceive the evident love of Tahoser
for him? Or for some secret reason, did he pretend
not to perceive it? His manner towards her was
gentle and kindly, but reserved, as if he sought to
prevent or repel some importunate confession which
it would have given him pain to reply to. And yet
the sham Hora was very beautiful. Her charms,
betrayed by the poverty of her dress, were all the
more beautiful; and just as in the hottest hours of
the day a luminous vapour is seen quivering upon
the gleaming earth, so did an atmosphere of love
shimmer around her. On her half-open lips her
passion fluttered like a bird that seeks to take its
flight; and softly, very softly, when she was sure
that she would not be heard, she repeated like a
monotonous cantilena, "Poëri, I love you."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was harvest time, and Poëri went out to oversee
the workmen. Tahoser, who could no more leave
him than the shadow can leave the body, followed
him timidly, fearing lest he should tell her to remain
in the house; but the young man said to her in a
voice marked by no accent of anger,—</p>
<p>"Grief is lightened by the sight of the peaceful
work of agriculture, and if some painful remembrance
of vanished prosperity weighs down your soul, it will
disappear at the sight of this joyous activity. These
things must be novel to you, for your skin, which the
sun has never kissed, your delicate feet, your slender
hands, and the elegance with which you drape yourself
in the piece of coarse stuff which serves you
for a vestment, prove to me that you have always
inhabited cities, and have lived in the midst of refinement
and luxury. Come, then, and sit down, while
still turning your spindle, under the shadow of that
tree, where the harvesters have hung up, to keep
it cool, the skin which holds their drink."</p>
<p>Tahoser obeyed and sat down under the tree,
her arms crossed on her knees and her knees up to
her chin. From the garden wall, the plain stretched
to the foot of the Libyan chain like a yellow sea<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span>
over which the least breath of air drove waves of
gold. The light was so intense that the golden tone
of the grain whitened in places and became silvery.
In the rich mud of the Nile the grain had grown
strong, straight, and high like javelins, and never
had a richer harvest, flaming and crackling with heat,
been outspread in the sun. The crop was abundant
enough to fill up to the ceiling the range of vaulted
granaries which rose near the cellars.</p>
<p>The workmen had already been a long while at
work, and here and there out of the waves of the
corn showed their woolly or close-shaven heads
covered with pieces of white stuff, and their naked
torsos the colour of baked brick. They bent and rose
with a regular motion, cutting the grain just below
the ear, as regularly as if they had followed a line
marked out by a cord. Behind them in the furrows
walked the gleaners with esparto bags, in which they
placed the harvested ears, and which they then carried
on their shoulders, or suspended from a cross-bar and
with the help of a companion, to grinding-mills situated
some distance apart. Sometimes the breathless
harvesters stopped to take breath, and putting their
sickles under their right arm drank a draught of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>
water. Then they quickly resumed their work, fearing
the foreman's stick.</p>
<p>The harvested grain was spread on the threshing-floor
in layers evened with a pitchfork, and slightly
higher on the edges on account of the additional
basketfuls which were being poured on.</p>
<p>Then Poëri signed to the ox-driver to bring on
his animals. They were superb oxen with long horns,
curved like the head-dress of Isis, with high withers,
deep dewlaps, clean, muscular limbs; the brand of
the estate, stamped with a red-hot iron, showed upon
their flanks. They walked slowly, bearing a horizontal
yoke which bore equally upon the heads of
the four.</p>
<p>They were driven on to the threshing-floor; urged
by the double-lashed whip, they began to trample
in a circle, making the grain spring from the ear
under their cloven hoofs; the sun shone on their
lustrous coats, and the dust which they raised ascended
to their nostrils, so that after going around about twenty
times, they would lean one against another, and
in spite of the hissing whip which lashed their flanks,
they would unmistakably slacken their pace. To
encourage them, the driver who followed them, hold<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span>ing
by the tail the nearest animal, began to sing in
a joyous, quick rhythm the old ox-song: "Turn
for yourselves, O oxen, turn for yourselves; measures
for you, and measures for your masters." And the
team, with new spirit, started on and disappeared
in a cloud of yellow dust that sparkled like gold.</p>
<p>The work of the oxen done, came servants who,
armed with wooden scoops, threw the grain into
the air and let it fall to separate it from the straw,
the awn, and the shell. The grain thus winnowed
was put into bags, the numbers of which were noted
by a scribe, and carried to the lofts, which were
reached by ladders.</p>
<p>Tahoser under the shadow of her tree enjoyed this
animated and grandiose spectacle, and often her heedless
hand forgot to spin the thread. The day was
waning, and already the sun, which had risen behind
Thebes, had crossed the Nile and was sinking
towards the Libyan chain, behind which its disc
sets every evening. It was the hour when the cattle
returned from the fields to the stable. She watched
near Poëri the long pastoral procession.</p>
<p>First was seen advancing the vast herd of oxen,
some white, others red, some black with lighter<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span>
spots, others piebald, others brindled. They were
of all colours and all sizes. They passed by, lifting
up their lustrous mouths whence hung filaments
of saliva, opening their great, gentle eyes; the more
impatient, smelling the stables, half raised themselves
for a moment and peered above the horned multitude,
with which, as they fell, they were soon confounded;
the less skilful, outstripped by their companions,
uttered long, plaintive bellows as if to protest. Near
the oxen walked the herds with their whip and their
rolled up cord.</p>
<p>On arriving near Poëri they knelt down, and, with
their elbows close to their sides, touched the ground
with their lips as a mark of respect. Scribes wrote
down the number of heads of cattle upon tablets.</p>
<p>Behind the oxen came the asses, trotting along and
kicking under the blows of the donkey drivers. These
had smooth-shaven heads, and were dressed in a mere
linen girdle, the end of which fell between their legs.
The donkeys went past, shaking their long ears and
trampling the ground with their little, hard hoofs.
The donkey drivers performed the same genuflection
as the ox-herds, and the scribes noted also the exact
number of the animals.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Then it was the turn of the goats. They arrived,
headed by the he-goat, their broken and shrill voices
trembling with pleasure; the goat-herds had much
difficulty in restraining their high spirits and in bringing
back to the main body the marauding ones which
strayed away. They were counted, like the oxen and
the asses, and with the same ceremonial the goat-herds
prostrated themselves at Poëri's feet.</p>
<p>The procession was closed by the geese, which,
weary with walking on the road, balanced themselves
on their web feet, flapped their wings noisily, stretched
out their necks, and uttered hoarse cries. Their number
was taken, and the tablets handed to the steward
of the domain. Long after the oxen, the asses, the
goats, and the geese had gone in, a column of dust
which the wind could not sweep away still rose slowly
into the heavens.</p>
<p>"Well, Hora," said Poëri to Tahoser, "has the
sight of the harvest and the flocks amused you?
These are our pastoral pleasures. We have not
here, as in Thebes, harpists and dancers; but agriculture
is holy; it is the nurse of man, and he who
sows a grain of corn does a deed agreeable to the
gods. Now come and take your meal with your<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</SPAN></span>
companions. For my part, I am going back to the
house to calculate how many bushels of wheat the ears
have produced."</p>
<p>Tahoser put one hand to the ground and the other
on her head as a mark of respectful assent, and withdrew.</p>
<p>In the dining-hall laughed and chattered a number
of young servants as they ate their onions and cakes
of doora and dates. A small earthenware vase full of
oil, in which dipped a wick, gave them light,—for
night had fallen,—and cast a yellow light upon their
brown cheeks and bodies which no garment veiled.
Some were seated on ordinary wooden seats, others
leaned against the wall with one leg drawn up.</p>
<p>"Where does the master go like that every evening?"
said a little, sly-looking maid, as she peeled a
pomegranate with pretty, monkey-like gestures.</p>
<p>"The master goes where he pleases," replied a tall
slave, who was chewing the petals of a flower. "Is
he to tell you what he does? It is not you, in any
case, who will keep him here."</p>
<p>"Why not I as well as another?" answered the
child, piqued.</p>
<p>The tall slave shrugged her shoulders.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Hora herself, who is fairer and more beautiful
than any of us, could not manage it. Though he
bears an Egyptian name and is in the service of the
Pharaoh, he belongs to the barbarous race of Israel,
and if he goes out at night, it is no doubt to be present
at the sacrifices of children which the Hebrews perform
in desert places, where the owl hoots, the hyena
howls, and the adder hisses."</p>
<p>Tahoser quietly left the room without a word, and
concealed herself in the garden behind the mimosa
bushes. After waiting two hours, she saw Poëri issue
forth into the country. Light and silent as a shadow,
she started to follow him.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">IX</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">P</span><span class="upper">oëri,</span> who was armed with a strong palm<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</SPAN></span>
stick, walked towards the river along a causeway
built over a field of submerged papyrus
which, leafy at their base, sent up on either hand their
straight stalks six and eight cubits high, ending in a
tuft of fibre and looking like the lances of an army in
battle array.</p>
<p>Holding in her breath and walking on tiptoe, Tahoser
followed him on the narrow road. There was
no moon that night, and the thick papyrus would in
any case have been sufficient to conceal the young
girl, who remained somewhat behind.</p>
<p>An open space had to be crossed. The sham Hora
let Poëri go on first, bent down, made herself as small
as she could, and crawled along the ground. Next
they entered a mimosa wood, and, concealed by the
clumps of trees, Tahoser was able to proceed without
having to take as many precautions. She was so close
to Poëri, whom she feared to lose sight of in the darkness,
that very often the branches that he pushed aside
slapped her in the face; but she paid no attention to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</SPAN></span>
this. A feeling of burning jealousy drove her to
seek the solution of the mystery, which she did not
interpret as did the servants in the house. Not for
one moment had she believed that the young Hebrew
went out thus every night to perform any infamous
and profane rite; she believed that a woman was at
the bottom of these nocturnal excursions, and she
wanted to know who her rival was. The cold kindness
of Poëri had proved to her that his heart was
already won; otherwise, how could he have remained
insensible to charms famous throughout Thebes and
the whole of Egypt? Would he have pretended not
to understand a love that would have filled with pride
oëris, priests, temple scribes, and even princes of the
royal blood?</p>
<p>On reaching the river shore, Poëri descended a few
steps cut out of the slope of the bank, and bent down
as if he were casting off a rope. Tahoser, lying flat
on the summit of the bank, above which the top of her
head alone showed, saw to her great despair that the
mysterious stroller was casting off a light papyrus bark,
narrow and long like a fish, and that he was making
ready to cross the river. The next moment he sprang
into the boat, shoved off with his foot, and sculled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</SPAN></span>
into the open with a single oar placed at the stern of
the skiff.</p>
<p>The poor girl was plunged in grief and despair: she
was going to lose track of the secret which it was so
important that she should learn. What was she to
do? Retrace her steps, her heart a prey to suspicion
and uncertainty, the worst of evils? She summoned
all her courage and soon made up her mind. It
was useless to think of looking for another boat. She
let herself down the bank, drew off her dress in a
twinkling, and fastened it in a roll upon her head; then
she boldly plunged into the river, taking care not to
splash. As supple as a water-snake, she stretched out
her lovely arms over the dark waves in which quivered
the reflection of the stars, and began to follow the boat
at a distance. She swam superbly, for every day she
practised with her women in the vast piscina in her
palace, and no one cleaved the waters more skilfully
than Tahoser.</p>
<p>The current, less swift at this point, did not greatly
hinder her, but in the centre of the stream she had to
strike out in the boiling water and to swim faster in
order to avoid being carried to leeward. Her breath
came shorter and quicker, and yet she held it in lest<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</SPAN></span>
the young Hebrew should hear her. Sometimes a
higher wave lapped with its foam her half-open lips,
wetted her hair, and even reached her dress rolled up
in a bundle. Happily for her,—for her strength was
beginning to give way,—she soon found herself in
stiller water. A bundle of reeds coming down the
river touched her as it passed, and filled her with quick
terror. The dark, green mass looked in the darkness
like the back of a crocodile; Tahoser thought she had
felt the rough skin of the monster; but she recovered
from her terror and said, as she swam on, "What
matter if the crocodiles eat me up, if Poëri loves me
not?"</p>
<p>There was real danger, especially at night. During
the day the constant crossing of boats and the work
going on along the quays drove away the crocodiles,
which went to shores less frequented by man to wallow
in the mud and to sun themselves; but at night
they became bold again.</p>
<p>Tahoser did not think of them; love is no calculator,
and even if she had thought of this form of peril,
she would have braved it, timid though she was, and
frightened by an obstinate butterfly that mistaking her
for a flower kept fluttering around her.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Suddenly the boat stopped, although the bank was
still some distance away. Poëri, ceasing to scull,
seemed to cast an uneasy glance around him. He had
perceived the whitish spot made on the water by
Tahoser's rolled up dress. Thinking she was discovered,
the intrepid swimmer bravely dived, resolved
not to come to the surface, even were she to drown,
until Poëri's suspicions had been dispelled.</p>
<p>"I could have sworn somebody was swimming
behind me," said Poëri, as he went on sculling again;
"but who would venture into the Nile at such a time
as this? I must have been crazy. I mistook for a
human head covered with linen a tuft of white reeds,
or perhaps a mere flake of foam, for I can see nothing
now."</p>
<p>When Tahoser, whose temples were beginning to
beat violently, and who began to see red flashes in the
dark waters of the river, rose hastily to fill her lungs
with a long breath of air, the papyrus boat had resumed
its confident way, and Poëri was handling the scull
with the imperturbable phlegm of the allegorical personages
who row the barge of Maut on the <i>bassi-relievi</i>
and the paintings of the temples. The bank was only
a few strokes off; the vast shadow of the pylons and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</SPAN></span>
the huge walls of the Northern Palace—the dark pile
of which was faintly seen surmounted by the pyramidions
of six obelisks through the violet blue of the night—spread
immense and formidable over the river, and
sheltered Tahoser, who could swim without fear of
being noticed.</p>
<p>Poëri landed a little below the palace and fastened
his boat to a post so as to find it on his return.
Then he took his palm stick and ascended the slope
of the quay with a swift step.</p>
<p>Poor Tahoser, almost worn out, clung with her
stiffened hands to the first step of the stair, and with
difficulty drew from the stream her dripping limbs,
which the contact of the air made heavier as she suddenly
felt the fatigue. But the worst of her task was
over. She climbed the steps, one hand pressed to her
quick-beating heart, the other placed on her head to
steady her rolled up and soaked dress. After having
noticed the direction in which Poëri was walking, she
sat down on top of the bank, untied her dress, and put
it on. The contact of the wet stuff made her shudder
slightly, yet the night air was soft and the southern
breeze blew warm; but she was stiff and feverish, and
her little teeth were chattering. She summoned up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</SPAN></span>
her energy, and gliding close by the sloping walls
of the giant buildings, she managed not to lose sight of
the young Hebrew, who turned around the corner of
the mighty brick walls of the palace and entered the
streets of Thebes.</p>
<p>After walking for some fifteen minutes, the palaces,
the temples, the splendid dwellings vanished, and were
replaced by humbler houses; granite, sandstone, and
limestone were replaced by unbaked bricks and by clay
worked with straw. Architectural design disappeared;
low huts showed around like blisters or warts upon
lonely places, upon waste fields, and were changed by
the darkness into monstrous shapes. Pieces of wood
and moulded bricks arranged in heaps obstructed the
way. Out of the silence rose strange, troubling
sounds: an owl whirled through the air, lean dogs,
raising their long, pointed noses, followed with plaintive
bay the erratic flight of a bat; scorpions and
frightened reptiles scurrying by, made the dry grass
rattle.</p>
<p>"Could Harphre have spoken the truth?" thought
Tahoser, impressed by the sinister aspect of the place.
"Is it possible that Poëri comes here to sacrifice a
child to those barbarous gods who love blood and suf<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</SPAN></span>fering?
Never was any place better fitted for cruel
rites."</p>
<p>Meanwhile, profiting by the shadow of corners, the
ends of walls, the clumps of vegetation, and the unevenness
of the ground, she kept at the same distance
from Poëri.</p>
<p>"Even if I were to be present as an invisible witness
at some scene as frightful as a nightmare, to hear
the cries of the victim, to see the priest, his hands red
with blood, draw from the little body the smoking
heart, I should go on to the end," said Tahoser to
herself, as she saw the young Hebrew enter a hut built
of clay, through the crevices of which shone a few
rays of yellow light.</p>
<p>When Poëri was fairly within, the daughter of
Petamounoph approached, though not a pebble cracked
under her light step, nor a dog marked her presence
by a bark. She went around the hut, pressing her
hand to her heart and holding in her breath, and discovered,
by seeing it shine against the dark ground
of the clay wall, a crack wide enough to allow her
glance to penetrate the interior. A small lamp lighted
the room, which was less bare than might have been
supposed from the outward appearance of the cabin.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</SPAN></span>
The smooth walls were as polished as stucco. On
wooden pedestals, painted in various colours, were
placed vases of gold and silver; jewels sparkled in
half-open coffers; dishes of brilliant metal shone on
the wall; and a nosegay of rare flowers bloomed in
an enamelled jar in the centre of a small table. But
it was not these details which interested Tahoser,
although the contrast of this concealed luxury with
the external poverty of the dwelling had at first somewhat
surprised her. Her attention was irresistibly
attracted by another object.</p>
<p>On a low platform covered with matting was a
marvellously beautiful woman of an unknown race.
She was fairer than any of the maids of Egypt, as
white as milk, as white as a lily, as white as the
ewes which have just been washed. Her eyebrows
were curved like ebony bows, and their points met at
the root of the thin, aquiline nose, the nostrils of
which were as rosy as the interior of a shell; her
eyes were like doves' eyes, bright and languorous;
her lips were like two bands of purple, and as they
parted showed rows of pearls; her hair hung on
either side of her rosy cheeks in black, lustrous locks
like two bunches of ripe grapes. Earrings shimmered<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</SPAN></span>
in her ears, and necklaces of golden plates inlaid with
silver sparkled around a neck that was round and
polished like an alabaster column. Her dress was
peculiar. It consisted of a full tunic embroidered
with stripes and symmetrical designs of various
colours, falling from her shoulders half-way down her
legs and leaving her arms free and bare.</p>
<p>The young Hebrew sat down by her on the matting,
and spoke to her words which Tahoser could not
understand, but the meaning of which she unfortunately
guessed too well; for Poëri and Ra'hel spoke
in the language of their country, so sweet to the
exile and captive. Yet hope dies hard in the loving
breast.</p>
<p>"Perhaps it is his sister," said Tahoser, "and he
goes to see her in secret, being unwilling that it should
be known that he belongs to that enslaved race."</p>
<p>Then she put her eye to the crevice and listened
with painful and intense attention to the harmonious
and rhythmic language, every syllable of which held
a secret which she would have given her life to learn,
and which sounded in her ears vague, swift, and
unmeaning like the wind in the leaves and the water
on the bank.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"She is very beautiful for a sister," she murmured,
as she cast a jealous glance upon the strange and
charming face with its red lips and its pale complexion
that was set off by ornaments of exotic shapes, and
the beauty of which had something fatally mysterious
about it.</p>
<p>"Oh, Ra'hel, my beloved Ra'hel!" repeated Poëri
often.</p>
<p>Tahoser remembered having heard him whisper that
name while she was fanning him in his sleep.</p>
<p>"He thought of her even in his dreams. No doubt
Ra'hel is her name." And the poor child felt in her
breast a sharp pang as if all the uræus snakes of the
entablatures, all the royal asps of the Pharaonic crowns,
had struck their venomous fangs in her heart.</p>
<p>Ra'hel bowed her head on Poëri's shoulder like a
flower overladen with sunshine and love; the lips of
the young man touched the hair of the lovely Jewess,
who fell back slowly, yielding her brow and half-closed
eyes to his earnest and timid caress. Their
hands, which had sought each other, were now clasped
and feverishly pressed together.</p>
<p>"Oh, why did I not surprise him in some impious
and mysterious ceremony, slaying with his own hands<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</SPAN></span>
a human victim, drinking its blood in a cup of black
ware, rubbing his face with it? It seems to me that
I should have suffered less than at the sight of that
lovely woman whom he embraces so timidly," murmured
Tahoser in a faint voice as she sank on the
ground in a corner by the hut.</p>
<p>Twice she strove to rise, but she fell back on her
knees. Darkness came over her, her limbs gave way,
and she fell in a swoon.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Poëri issued from the hut, giving a last
kiss to Ra'hel.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">X</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> Pharaoh, raging and anxious on hearing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</SPAN></span>
of the disappearance of Tahoser, had given
way to that desire for change which possesses
a heart tormented by an unsatisfied passion.
To the deep grief of Amense, Hont-Reché, and
Twea, his favourites, who had endeavoured to retain
him in the Summer Palace by all the resources of
feminine coquetry, he now inhabited the Northern
Palace on the other side of the Nile. His fierce preoccupation
was irritated by the presence and the chatter
of his women; they displeased him because they
were not Tahoser. He now thought ugly those beauties
who had seemed to him formerly so fair; their
young, slender, graceful bodies, their voluptuous attitudes,
their long eyes brightened by antimony and
flashing with desire, their purple lips, white teeth, and
languishing smiles,—everything in them, even the
perfume of their cool skin, as delicate as a bouquet
of flowers or a box of scent, had become odious to
him. He seemed to be angry with them for having
loved them, and to be unable to understand how he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</SPAN></span>
could have been smitten by such vulgar charms.
When Twea touched his breast with the slender,
pink finger of her little hand, shaking with emotion,
as if to recall the remembrance of former familiarities;
when Hont-Reché placed before him the draught-board
supported by two lions back to back, in order
to play a game; when Amense presented him with a
lotus-flower with respectful, supplicating grace, he
could scarcely refrain from striking them with his
sceptre, and his royal eyes flashed with such disdain
that the poor women who had ventured on such boldness,
withdrew abashed, their eyes wet with tears, and
leaned silently against the painted wall, trying by their
motionlessness to appear to be part of the paintings on
the frescoes.</p>
<p>To avoid these scenes of tears and violence, he had
withdrawn to the palace of Thebes, alone, taciturn, and
sombre; and there, instead of remaining seated on
his throne in the solemn attitude of the gods and of
kings, who, being almighty, neither move nor make a
gesture, he walked feverishly up and down through the
vast halls. Strange was it to see that tall Pharaoh with
imposing mien, as formidable as the granite colossi, his
like, making the stone floors resound under his curved<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</SPAN></span>
sandals. When he passed, the terrified guards seemed
to be petrified and to turn to stone. They remained
breathless, and not even the double ostrich-feather in
their headgear dared tremble. When he had passed,
they scarce ventured to whisper, "What is the matter
to-day with the Pharaoh?"</p>
<p>Had he returned from his expedition a beaten man,
he could not have been more morose and sombre. If,
instead of having won ten victories, slain twenty
thousand enemies, brought back two thousand virgins
chosen from among the fairest, a hundred loads of gold-dust,
a thousand loads of ebony and elephants' tusks,
without counting the rare products and the strange
animals,—if, instead of all this, Pharaoh had seen his
army cut to pieces, his war chariots overthrown and
broken, if he had escaped alone from the rout under a
shower of arrows, dusty, blood-covered, taking the
reins from the hands of his driver dead by his side,—he
certainly could not have appeared more gloomy and
more desperate. After all, the land of Egypt produces
soldiers in abundance; innumerable horses neigh and
paw the ground in the palace stables; and workmen
could soon bend wood, melt copper, sharpen brass.
The fortune of war is changeable, but a disaster may<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</SPAN></span>
be atoned for. To have, however, wished for a thing
which did not at once come to him, to have met with
an obstacle between his will and the carrying out of
that will, to have hurled like a javelin a desire which
had not struck its mark,—that was what amazed the
Pharaoh who dwelt in the higher plane of almightiness.
For one moment it occurred to him that he was only
a man.</p>
<p>So he wandered through the vast courts, down the
avenues of giant pillars, passed under the mighty pylons,
between the lofty monolithic obelisks and the colossi
which gazed upon him with their great, frightened
eyes. He traversed the hypostyle hall and the maze
of the granitic forest with its one hundred and sixty-two
pillars tall and strong as towers. The figures of
gods, of kings, and of symbolic beings painted on the
walls seemed to fix upon him their great eyes, drawn
in black upon their profile masks, the uræus snakes to
twist and swell their hoods, the bird-faced divinities to
stretch out their necks, the globes to spread over the
cornices their fluttering wings of stone. A strange,
fantastic life animated these curious figures, and peopled
with living swarms the solitudes of the vast hall,
which was as large as an ordinary palace. The divin<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</SPAN></span>ities,
the ancestors, the chimerical monsters, eternally
motionless, were amazed to see the Pharaoh, ordinarily
as calm as themselves, striding up and down as though
he were a man of flesh, and not of porphyry and basalt.</p>
<p>Weary of roaming about that mysterious forest of
pillars that upbore a granite heaven, like a lion which
seeks the track of its prey and scents with its wrinkled
nose the moving sand of the desert, the Pharaoh ascended
one of the terraces of the palace, stretched himself
on a low couch, and sent for Timopht.</p>
<p>Timopht appeared at once, and advanced from the
top of the stairs to the Pharaoh, prostrating himself at
every step. He dreaded the wrath of the master whose
favour he had, for a moment, hoped he had gained.
Would the skill he had shown in discovering the home
of Tahoser be a sufficient excuse for the crime of losing
track of the lovely maid?</p>
<p>Raising one knee and leaving the other bent, Timopht
stretched out his arms with a supplicating gesture.</p>
<p>"O King, do not doom me to death or to be beaten
beyond measure. The beauteous Tahoser, the daughter
of Petamounoph, on whom your desire deigned to
descend as the hawk swoops down upon the dove, will
doubtless be found; and when, returned to her home,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</SPAN></span>
she sees your magnificent gifts, her heart will be
touched, and she will come of herself to take, among
the women that dwell in your harem, the place which
you will assign to her."</p>
<p>"Did you question her servants and her slaves?"
said the King. "The stick loosens the most rebellious
tongue, and suffering makes men and women say what
they would otherwise hide."</p>
<p>"Nofré and Souhem, her favourite maid and her
oldest servant, told me that they had noticed the bolts
of the garden gate drawn back, that probably their
mistress had gone out that way. The gate opens on
the river, and the water does not preserve the track of
boats."</p>
<p>"What did the boatmen of the Nile say?"</p>
<p>"They had seen nothing. One man alone said
that a poorly dressed woman crossed the stream with
the first light of day; but it could not be the beautiful
and rich Tahoser, whose face you have yourself
noticed, and who walks like a queen in her superb
garments."</p>
<p>Timopht's logic did not appear to convince the
Pharaoh. He leaned his chin on his hand and reflected
for a few moments. Poor Timopht waited<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</SPAN></span>
in silence, fearing an explosion of fury. The King's
lips moved as if he were speaking to himself.</p>
<p>"That mean dress was a disguise. Yes, it must
have been. Thus disguised, she crossed to the other
side of the river. Timopht is a fool, who cannot see
anything. I have a great mind to have him thrown to
the crocodiles or beaten to death. But what could be
her reason? A maid of high birth, the daughter of a
high-priest, to escape thus from her palace, alone and
without informing any one of her intention! It may be
there is some love affair at the bottom of this mystery."</p>
<p>As this thought occurred to him, the Pharaoh's face
flushed red as if under the reflection of a fire; the
blood had rushed from his heart to his face. The redness
was followed by dreadful pallor; his eyebrows
writhed like the uræus in his diadem, his mouth was
contracted, he grated his teeth, and his face became so
terrible that the terrified Timopht fell on his face upon
the pavement as falls a dead man.</p>
<p>But the Pharaoh resumed his coolness, his face regained
its majestic, weary, placid look, and seeing that
Timopht did not rise, he kicked him disdainfully.</p>
<p>When Timopht, who already saw himself stretched
on the funeral bed supported by jackal's feet in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</SPAN></span>
Memnonia quarter, his side open, his stomach emptied,
and himself ready to be plunged into a bath of pickle,—when
Timopht raised himself, he dared not look up
to the King, but remained crouched on his heels, a prey
to the bitterest anguish.</p>
<p>"Come, Timopht!" said His Majesty, "rise
up, run, and despatch emissaries on all sides; have
temples, palaces, houses, villas, gardens, yea, the
meanest of huts searched, and find Tahoser. Send
chariots along every road; have the Nile traversed in
every direction by boats; go yourself and ask those
whom you meet if they have not seen such and such a
woman. Violate the tombs, if she has taken refuge in
the abodes of death, far within some passage or hypogeum.
Seek her out as Isis sought her husband
Osiris torn away by Typhon, and, dead or alive, bring
her back,—or by the uræus of my pschent, by the
lotus of my sceptre, you shall perish in hideous
tortures."</p>
<p>Timopht went off with the speed of a deer to carry
out the orders of the Pharaoh, who, somewhat calmer,
took one of those poses of tranquil grandeur which the
sculptors love to give to the colossi set up at the gates
of the temples and palaces, and calm as beseems those<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</SPAN></span>
whose sandals, covered with drawings of captives with
bound elbows, rest upon the heads of nations, he
waited.</p>
<p>A roar as of thunder sounded around the palace, and
had the sky not been of unchangeable, lapis-lazuli blue
it might have been thought that a storm had burst
unexpectedly. The sound was caused by the swiftly
revolving wheels of the chariots galloping off in every
direction, and shaking the very ground. Soon the
Pharaoh perceived from the top of the terrace the boats
cleaving the stream under the impulse of the rowers, and
his messengers scattering on the other bank through the
country. The Libyan chain, with its rosy light, and
its sapphire blue shadows, bounded the horizon and
formed a background to the giant buildings of
Rameses, Amenhôtep, and Amen Phtases; the pylons
with their sloping angles, the walls with their spreading
cornices, the colossi with their hands resting on
their knees, stood out, gilded by the sunbeams, their
size undiminished by distance.</p>
<p>But the Pharaoh looked not at these proud edifices.
Amid the clumps of palms and the cultivated fields,
houses and painted kiosks rose here and there, standing
out against the brilliant colours of the vegetation.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Under one of these roofs, on one of these terraces,
no doubt, Tahoser was hiding; and by some
spell he wished he could raise them or make them
transparent.</p>
<p>Hours followed on hours. The sun had sunk
behind the mountains, casting its last rays on Thebes,
and the messengers had not returned. The Pharaoh
preserved his motionless attitude. Night fell on the
city, cool, calm, blue; the stars came out and twinkled
in the deep azure. On the corner of the terrace the
Pharaoh, silent, impassible, stood out dark like a basalt
statue fixed upon the entablature. Several times the
birds of night swept around his head ere settling on it,
but terrified by his deep, slow breathing, they fled with
startled wings.</p>
<p>From the height where he sat, the King overlooked
the city lying at his feet. Out of the mass of bluish
shadow uprose the obelisks with their sharp pyramidions;
the pylons, giant doors traversed by rays; high
cornices; the colossi rising shoulder-high above the
sea of buildings; the propylæa; the pillars, with capitals
swelled out like huge granite flowers; the corners
of temples and of palaces, brought out by a silvery
touch of light. The sacred pools spread out shimmering<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</SPAN></span>
like polished metal; the human-headed and the ram-headed
sphinxes aligned along the avenues, stretched
out their hind-quarters; and the flat roofs were multiplied
infinitely, white under the moonlight, in masses
cut here and there into great slices by the squares and
the streets. Red points studded the darkness as if
the stars had let sparks fall upon the earth. These
were lamps still burning in the sleeping city. Still
farther, between the less crowded buildings, faintly
seen shafts of palm trees waved their fans of leaves;
and beyond, the contours and the shapes were merged
in a vaporous immensity, for even the eagle's glance
could not have reached the limits of Thebes; and on
the other side old Hopi was flowing majestically
towards the sea.</p>
<p>Soaring in sight and thought over that vast city of
which he was the absolute master, the Pharaoh reflected
sadly on the limits set to human power, and his desire,
like a raging vulture, gnawed at his heart. He said to
himself: "All these houses contain beings who at the
sight of me bow their faces into the dust, to whom
my will is the will of the gods. When I pass upon
my golden car or in my litter borne by the oëris,
virgins feel their bosoms swell as their long, timid<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</SPAN></span>
glance follows me; the priests burn incense to me
in their censers, the people wave palms and scatter
flowers; the whistling of one of my arrows makes the
nations tremble; and the walls of pylons huge as precipitous
mountains are scarce sufficient to record my
victories; the quarries can scarce furnish granite
enough for my colossal statues. Yet once, in my
superb satiety, I form a wish, and that wish I cannot
fulfil. Timopht does not reappear. No doubt he has
failed. Oh, Tahoser, Tahoser! How great is the happiness
you will have to bestow on me to make up for
this long waiting!"</p>
<p>Meanwhile the messengers, Timopht at their head,
were visiting the houses, examining the roads, inquiring
after the priest's daughter, describing her to the
travellers they met; but no one could answer them.
The first messenger appeared on the terrace and announced
to the Pharaoh that Tahoser could not be
found. The Pharaoh stretched out his sceptre, and
the messenger fell dead, in spite of the proverbial hardness
of the Egyptian skull. A second came up; he
stumbled against the body of his comrade stretched on
the slabs; he trembled, for he saw that the Pharaoh
was angry.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"What of Tahoser?" said the Pharaoh, without
changing his attitude.</p>
<p>"O Majesty! all trace of her is lost," replied the
poor wretch, kneeling in the darkness before the black
shadow, which was more like a statue of Osiris than a
living king.</p>
<p>The granite arm was outstretched from the motionless
torso, and the metal sceptre fell like a thunderbolt.
The second messenger rolled on the ground by the side
of the first.</p>
<p>The third shared the same fate.</p>
<p>Timopht, in the course of his search, reached the
house of Poëri, who, having returned from his nocturnal
excursion, had been amazed that morning at not seeing
the sham Hora. Harphre and the servants who, the
night before, had supped with her, did not know what
had become of her; her room had been found empty;
she had been sought for in vain through the gardens,
the cellars, the granaries, and the washing-places.</p>
<p>Poëri replied, when questioned by Timopht, that it
was true that a young girl had presented herself at his
gate in the supplicating posture of misfortune, imploring
hospitality on her knees; that he had received her
kindly; had offered her food and shelter; but that she<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</SPAN></span>
had left in a mysterious fashion for a reason which he
could not fathom. In what direction had she gone?
That he did not know. No doubt, having rested, she
had continued on her way to some unknown place.
She was beautiful, sad, wore a garment of common
stuff, and appeared to be poor. Did the name of Hora
which she had given stand for that of Tahoser? It
was for Timopht to answer that question.</p>
<p>Provided with this information, Timopht returned
to the palace, and keeping well out of the reach of the
Pharaoh's sceptre, he repeated what he had learned.</p>
<p>"What did she go to Poëri's for?" said the Pharaoh
to himself. "If Hora is really Tahoser, she loves
Poëri. And yet, no! for she would not have fled thus,
after having been received under his roof. I shall find
her again, even if I have to upset the whole of Egypt
from the Cataracts to the Delta."</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XI</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">R</span><span class="upper">a'hel,</span> who from the threshold of the hut<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</SPAN></span>
was watching Poëri go away, thought she
heard a faint sigh. She listened; some
dogs were baying to the moon, an owl uttered its doleful
hoot, and the crocodiles moaned between the reeds
of the river, imitating the cry of a child in distress.
The young Israelite was about to re-enter the hut
when a more distinct moan, which could not be attributed
to the vague sounds of night, and which certainly
came from a human breast, again struck her ear.
Fearing some ambush, she drew cautiously near the
place whence came the sound, and close to the wall
of the hut she perceived in the blue transparent darkness
the shape of a body fallen to the ground. The
wet drapery outlined the limbs of the false Hora and
betrayed her sex.</p>
<p>Ra'hel, seeing that she had to do with a fainting
woman only, lost all fear and knelt by her, questioning
the breathing of her lips and the beating of her heart;
the one was just expiring on the pale lips, the other
scarce beat under the cold breasts.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Feeling the water which had soaked the stranger's
dress, Ra'hel thought at first that it was blood, and
imagined that the woman must be the victim of
a murder. In order to help her to better purpose,
she called Thamar, her servant, and the two women
carried Tahoser into the hut. They laid her upon
the couch. Thamar held up a lamp, while Ra'hel,
bending over the girl, looked for the wound; but
no red streak showed upon the pallor of Tahoser, and
her dress had no crimson stain.</p>
<p>They stripped off her wet garment, and cast over
her a piece of striped wool, the gentle warmth of
which soon restored her suspended circulation. Tahoser
slowly opened her eyes and cast around her a terrified
glance like that of a captured gazelle. It took
her some time to regain control of her thoughts.
She could not understand how she happened to be
in that room, on the bed, where but a moment ago
she had seen Poëri and the young Israelite seated side
by side with clasped hands, speaking of love, while
she, breathless, amazed, watched through the crack
of the wall; but soon memory returned, and with
it the feeling of her situation.</p>
<p>The light fell full on Ra'hel's face. Tahoser<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</SPAN></span>
studied it silently, grieved to find her so perfectly
beautiful. In vain, with all the fierceness of feminine
jealousy, she tried to note defects in her; she felt
herself not vanquished, but equalled; Ra'hel was
the Hebrew ideal, as Tahoser was the Egyptian.
Hard though it was to her loving heart, she was
compelled to admit that Poëri's love was justified and
well bestowed. The eyes with their full black eyelashes,
the beautiful nose, the red mouth with its
dazzling smile, the long, elegant oval face, the arms,
full near the shoulders and ending in childish hands,
the round, plump neck which, as it turned, formed
folds more beautiful than necklaces of gems,—all
this, set off by a quaint, exotic dress, was sure to
please.</p>
<p>"I made a great mistake," said Tahoser to herself,
"when I presented myself to Poëri in the humble
attitude of a suppliant, trusting to my charms overpraised
by flatterers. Fool that I was! I acted as
a soldier who should go to war without breastplate
or weapons. If I had appeared in all my splendour,
covered with jewels and enamels, standing on my
golden car followed by my numerous slaves, I might
perhaps have touched his fancy, if not his heart."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"How do you feel now?" said Ra'hel in Egyptian
to Tahoser; for by the outline of the face and the
dressing of the hair, she had perceived that the maiden
did not belong to the Israelitish race. The sound
of her voice was sympathetic and sweet, and the
foreign accent added greater grace to it.</p>
<p>Tahoser was touched in spite of herself, and replied,
"I feel better. Your kind care will soon have
restored me."</p>
<p>"Do not tire yourself with speaking," answered
the Israelite, placing her hand on Tahoser's lips.
"Try to sleep, to regain your strength. Thamar
and I will watch over you."</p>
<p>Her agitation, the swim across the Nile, the long
walk through the poor quarters of Thebes, had wearied
out Petamounoph's daughter; her delicate frame was
exhausted, and soon her long lashes closed, forming
a dark semicircle upon her cheeks flushed with fever.
Sleep came to her, but broken, restless, distorted by
strange dreams, troubled by threatening hallucinations;
nervous shivers made the sleeper start, and broken
words, replying to the dream dialogue, were spoken
by the half-opened lips.</p>
<p>Seated at the bed head, Ra'hel followed the changes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</SPAN></span>
in the features of Tahoser; troubled when she saw
them contract and fill with grief, quieted again when
the girl calmed down. Thamar, crouching beside her
mistress, was also watching the priest's daughter, but
her face expressed less kindliness. Coarse instincts
showed in the wrinkles of her brow, pressed down
by the broad band of the Hebrew head-dress; her eyes,
still bright in spite of her age, sparkled with curious
questionings in their brown and wrinkled orbits; her
bony nose, shining and curved like a vulture's beak,
seemed to scent out secrets; and her lips, slightly
moving, appeared to be framing interrogations.</p>
<p>She was very much concerned about this stranger
picked up at the door of the hut. Whence came
she? How did she happen to be there? What was
her purpose? Who could she be? Such were the
questions which Thamar asked herself, and to which,
very regretfully, she could find no satisfactory replies.
Besides, Thamar, like all old women, was prejudiced
against beauty, and in this respect Tahoser proved
very unpleasant to her. The faithful servant forgave
beauty in her mistress only; for her good looks she
considered as her property, and she was proud and
jealous of them.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Seeing that Ra'hel kept silence, the old woman
rose and sat down near her, and winking her eyes,
the brown lids of which rose and fell like a bat's
wing, she whispered in the Hebrew tongue, "Mistress,
nothing good will come of this woman."</p>
<p>"Why do you think so, Thamar?" answered
Ra'hel, in the same low tone and using the same
language.</p>
<p>"It is strange," went on the suspicious Thamar,
"that she should have fainted there, and not elsewhere."</p>
<p>"She fell at the spot where weakness came upon her."</p>
<p>The old woman shook her head doubtfully.</p>
<p>"Do you suppose," said Poëri's beloved, "that
her faint was simulated? The dissector might have
cut her side with his sharp stone, so like a dead body
did she seem. Her dull eyes, her pale lips, her
pallid cheeks, her limp limbs, her skin as cold as that
of the dead,—these things cannot be counterfeited."</p>
<p>"No, doubtless," replied Thamar, "although there
are women clever enough to feign all these symptoms,
for some reason or another, so skilfully as to deceive
the most clear-sighted. I believe that the maiden had
swooned, as a matter of fact."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Then what are you suspicious of?"</p>
<p>"How did she happen to be there in the middle of
the night; in this distant quarter inhabited only by the
poor captives of our tribe whom the cruel Pharaoh employs
in making brick, and to whom he refuses the
straw necessary to burn the bricks? What motive
brought that Egyptian woman to our wretched huts?
Why was her garment soaking wet, as if she had just
emerged from a pool or from the river?"</p>
<p>"I know no more than you do," replied Ra'hel.</p>
<p>"Suppose she were a spy of our masters'," said the
old woman, whose fierce eyes were lighted up with
hatred. "Great events are preparing,—who knows
whether the alarm has not been given?"</p>
<p>"How could that young girl, ill as she is, hurt us?
She is in our hands, weak, alone, ill. Besides, we can,
at the least suspicious sign, keep her prisoner until the
day of deliverance."</p>
<p>"In any case, she is not to be trusted. See how
delicate and soft are her hands!"</p>
<p>And old Thamar raised one of the arms of the
sleeping Tahoser.</p>
<p>"In what respect can the fineness of her skin
endanger us?"<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Oh, imprudent youth!" said Thamar; "oh, mad
youth! which cannot see anything, which walks
through life trustfully, without believing in ambushes,
in brambles under the grass, in hot coals under the
ashes, and which would gladly caress a viper, believing
it to be only a snake. Open your eyes! That woman
does not belong to the class of which she seems to be;
her thumb has never been flattened on the thread of
the spindle, and that little hand, softened by essences
and pomades, has never worked. Her poverty is a
disguise."</p>
<p>Thamar's words appeared to impress Ra'hel; she
examined Tahoser more attentively. The lamp shed
upon her its trembling rays, and the delicate form of
the priest's daughter showed in the yellow light relaxed
in sleep. The arm which Thamar had raised still
rested upon the mantle of striped wool, showing
whiter by contrast with the dark stuff; the wrist
was circled with a bracelet of sandal wood, the commonplace
adornment of the coquetry of poverty; but
if the ornament was rude and roughly chased, the flesh
it covered seemed to have been washed in the perfumed
bath of riches. Then Ra'hel saw how beautiful was
Tahoser, but the discovery excited no evil feeling in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</SPAN></span>
her heart; Tahoser's beauty softened, instead of
irritating her as it did Thamar; she could not believe
that such perfection concealed a vile and perfidious
soul; and in this respect her youthful candour judged
more correctly than the long experience of her maid.</p>
<p>Day at last dawned, and Tahoser's fever grew worse.
She was delirious at times, and then would fall into a
prolonged slumber.</p>
<p>"If she were to die here," said Thamar, "we should
be accused of having killed her."</p>
<p>"She will not die," replied Ra'hel, putting a cup
of cool water to the lips of the sick girl.</p>
<p>"If she does, I shall throw her body by night into
the Nile," continued the obstinate Thamar, "and the
crocodiles will undertake to make it disappear."</p>
<p>The day passed, the night came, and at the accustomed
hour Poëri, having given the usual signal, appeared
as he had done the night before on the threshold
of the hut.</p>
<p>Ra'hel came to meet him, her finger on her lips, and
signed to him to keep silence and to speak low, for
Tahoser was sleeping. Poëri, whom Ra'hel led by the
hand to the bed on which Tahoser rested, at once
recognised the sham Hora, whose disappearance had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</SPAN></span>
preoccupied him a good deal, especially since the visit
of Timopht, who was looking for her in his master's
name.</p>
<p>Marked astonishment showed in his face as he rose,
after having bent over the bed to make quite certain
that the young girl who lay there was the one whom
he had welcomed, for he could not understand how she
happened to be in this place. His look of surprise
smote Ra'hel to the heart. She stood in front of
Poëri to read the truth in his eyes, placed her hands
upon his shoulders, and fixing her glance upon him,
said, in a dry, sharp voice which contrasted with her
speech, usually as gentle as the cooing of a dove,—</p>
<p>"So you know her?"</p>
<p>Thamar grinned with satisfaction; she was proud
of her perspicacity, and almost glad to see her suspicions
as regarded the stranger partially justified.</p>
<p>"Yes," replied Poëri, quietly.</p>
<p>The bright eyes of the old woman sparkled with
malicious curiosity.</p>
<p>Ra'hel's face resumed its expression of trustfulness;
she no longer doubted her lover.</p>
<p>Poëri told her that a girl calling herself Hora had
presented herself at his home as a suppliant; that he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</SPAN></span>
had received her as any guest should be received; that
the next day she had disappeared from among the
maids, and that he could not understand how she
happened to be there. He also added that the emissaries
of the Pharaoh were everywhere looking for
Tahoser, the daughter of the high-priest Petamounoph,
who had disappeared from her palace.</p>
<p>"You see that I was right, mistress," said Thamar,
triumphantly. "Hora and Tahoser are one and the
same person."</p>
<p>"That may be," replied Poëri, "but there are a
number of difficulties which my reason does not explain.
First, why should Tahoser, if it is she, don
this disguise? Next, by what miracle do I meet here
the maiden whom I left last night on the other bank
of the Nile, and who certainly could not know whither
I was going?"</p>
<p>"No doubt she followed you," said Ra'hel.</p>
<p>"I am quite sure that at that time there was no
other boat on the river but mine."</p>
<p>"That is the reason her hair was so dripping-wet
and her garments soaked. She must have swum across
the Nile."</p>
<p>"That may well be,—I thought for a moment that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</SPAN></span>
I had caught sight in the darkness of a human head
above the waters."</p>
<p>"It was she, poor child!" said Ra'hel; "her
fatigue and her fainting corroborate it, for after your
departure I picked her up stretched senseless outside
the hut."</p>
<p>"No doubt that is the way things occurred," said
the young man. "I can see the acts, but I cannot
understand the motive."</p>
<p>"Let me explain it," said Ra'hel, smiling, "although
I am but a poor, ignorant woman, and you are compared,
as regards your vast knowledge, to the priests of
Egypt who study night and day within sanctuaries
covered with mystic hieroglyphs, the hidden meaning
of which they alone can penetrate. But sometimes
men, who are so busy with astronomy, music, and
numbers, do not guess what goes on in a maiden's
heart. They can see a distant star in the heavens;
they do not notice a love close to them. Hora—or
rather, Tahoser, for it is she—took this disguise to
penetrate into your house and to live near you; jealous,
she glided in the shadow behind you; at the risk of
being devoured by the crocodiles in the river she swam
across the Nile. On arriving here she watched us<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</SPAN></span>
through some crack in the wall, and was unable to bear
the sight of our happiness. She loves you because
you are very handsome, very strong, and very gentle.
But I do not care, since you do not love her. Now
do you understand?"</p>
<p>A faint blush coloured Poëri's cheeks; he feared lest
Ra'hel were angry and spoke thus to entrap him, but
her clear, pure glance betrayed no hidden thought.
She was not angry with Tahoser for loving the man
whom she loved herself.</p>
<p>In her dreams Tahoser saw Poëri standing by her;
ecstatic joy lighted up her features, and half raising
herself, she seized the hand of the young man to bear
it to her lips.</p>
<p>"Her lips are burning," said Poëri, withdrawing his
hand.</p>
<p>"With love as much as with fever," replied Ra'hel,
"but she is really ill. Suppose Thamar were to fetch
Mosche. He is wiser than the wise men and the
wizards of Pharaoh, every one of whose wonders he
imitates. He knows the secret properties of plants, and
makes drinks of them which would bring the dead to
life. He shall cure Tahoser, for I am not cruel
enough to wish her to lose her life."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Thamar went off grumbling, and soon returned, followed
by a very tall old man, whose majestic aspect
inspired reverence. A long white beard fell down
over his breast, and on either side of his brow two huge
protuberances caught and retained the light. They
looked like two horns or two beams. Under his thick
eyebrows his eyes shone like fire. He looked, in spite
of his simple dress, like a prophet or a god.</p>
<p>Acquainted with the state of things by Poëri, he sat
down by Tahoser's couch, and said, as he stretched his
hand over her: "In the name of the Mighty One
beside whom all other gods are idols and demons,—though
you do not belong to the elect of the Lord,—maiden,
be cured!"</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> tall old man withdrew solemnly, leaving,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</SPAN></span>
as it were, a trail of light behind him.
Tahoser, surprised at feeling her sickness
suddenly leave her, cast her eyes around the room, and
soon, wrapping herself in the blanket with which the
young Israelite had covered her, she put her feet to the
ground and sat up on the edge of the bed. Fatigue
and fever had completely left her; she was as fresh as
after a long rest, and her beauty shone in all its purity.
Pushing back with her little hands the plaited masses
of her hair behind her ears, she showed her face lighted
up with love, as if she desired Poëri to read it; but
seeing that he remained motionless near Ra'hel without
encouraging her by a sign or a glance, she rose slowly,
drew near the young Israelite girl, and threw her arms
around her neck. She remained thus, her head in
Ra'hel's bosom, wetting it with her hot tears. Sometimes
a sob she could not repress shook her convulsively
upon her rival's breast.</p>
<p>The complete yielding up of herself, and her evident
misery, touched Ra'hel. Tahoser confessed herself<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</SPAN></span>
beaten, and implored her pity by mute supplication,
appealing to her womanly generosity.</p>
<p>Ra'hel, much moved, kissed her and said,—</p>
<p>"Dry your tears and be not so sorrowful. You love
Poëri? Well, love him, and I shall not be jealous.
Yacoub, a patriarch of our race, had two wives; one
was called Ra'hel as I am, and the other Leah.
Yacoub preferred Ra'hel, and yet Leah, who was not
beautiful like you, lived happily with him."</p>
<p>Tahoser knelt at Ra'hel's feet and kissed her hand.
Ra'hel raised her and put her arm around her waist.
They formed a charming group, these two women of
different races, exhibiting, as they did, the characteristic
beauty of each: Tahoser elegant, graceful, and slender,
like a child that has grown too fast; Ra'hel dazzling,
blooming, and superb in her precocious maturity.</p>
<p>"Tahoser," said Poëri, "for that is your name, I
think,—Tahoser, daughter of the high-priest Petamounoph?"</p>
<p>The young girl nodded assent.</p>
<p>"How is it that you, who live in Thebes in a rich
palace, surrounded by slaves, and whom the handsomest
among the Egyptians desire,—how is it you have
chosen to love me, a son of a race reduced to slavery,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</SPAN></span>
a stranger who does not share your religious beliefs and
who is separated from you by so great a distance?"</p>
<p>Ra'hel and Tahoser smiled, and the high-priest's
daughter replied,—</p>
<p>"That is the very reason."</p>
<p>"Although I enjoy the favour of the Pharaoh,
although I am the steward of his domains and wear
gilded horns in the festivals of agriculture, I cannot
rise to you. In the eyes of the Egyptians I am but a
slave, and you belong to the priestly caste, the highest
and most venerated. If you love me—and I cannot
doubt that you do—you must give up your rank."</p>
<p>"Have I not already become your servant? Hora
kept nothing of Tahoser, not even the enamelled
collars and the transparent gauze calasiris; that is why
you thought me ugly."</p>
<p>"You will have to give up your country and follow
me to unknown regions, through the desert where
burns the sun, where blows the fire-wind, where the
moving sand tangles and effaces the paths, where no
tree grows, where no well springs, through the lost
valleys of death strewn with whitened bones that mark
the way."</p>
<p>"I shall go," said Tahoser, quietly.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"That is not all," continued Poëri. "Your gods
are not mine,—your gods of brass, basalt, and granite,
fashioned by the hand of man, your monstrous idols
with heads of eagle, monkey, ibis, cow, jackal, and
lion, which assume the faces of beasts as if they were
troubled by the human face on which rests the reflection
of Jehovah. It is said, 'Thou shalt worship
neither stone nor wood nor metal.' Within these
temples cemented with the blood of oppressed races
grin and crouch the hideous, foul demons which usurp
the libations, the offerings, and the sacrifices. One
only God, infinite, eternal, formless, colourless, fills
the immensity of the heavens which you people with
a multitude of phantoms. Our God has created us;
you have created your gods."</p>
<p>Although Tahoser was deeply in love with Poëri,
his words affected her strangely, and she drew back in
terror. The daughter of the high-priest had been
brought up to venerate the gods whom the young
Hebrew was boldly blaspheming; she had offered up
on their altars bouquets of flowers, and she had burned
perfumes before their impassible images; amazed and
delighted, she had walked through their temples splendid
with brilliant paintings. She had seen her father<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</SPAN></span>
performing the mysterious rites; she had followed
the procession of priests who bore the symbolic bari
through the enormous pylons and the endless sphinx
avenues; she had admired tremblingly the psychostasis
where the trembling soul appears before Osiris armed
with the whip and the pedum, and she had noted with
a dreamy glance the frescoes representing the emblematic
figures travelling towards the regions of the West.
She could not thus yield up all her beliefs. She
was silent for a few moments, hesitating between religion
and love. Love won the day, and she said:</p>
<p>"You shall tell me of your God; I will try to
understand him."</p>
<p>"It is well," said Poëri; "you shall be my wife.
Meanwhile remain here, for the Pharaoh, no doubt in
love with you, is having you sought everywhere by his
emissaries. He will never discover you under this
humble roof, and in a few days we shall be out of his
power. But the night is waning and I must depart."</p>
<p>Poëri went off, and the two young women, lying
side by side on the soft bed, soon fell asleep, holding
each other's hands like two sisters.</p>
<p>Thamar, who during the foregoing scene had remained
crouched in her corner of the room, looking<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</SPAN></span>
like a bat hanging from a corner by its talons, and had
been muttering broken words and frowning, now unfolded
her bony limbs, rose to her feet, and bending
over the bed, listened to the breathing of the two
sleepers. When the regularity of their breathing convinced
her that they were sound asleep, she went
towards the door, walking with infinite precaution.
Once outside, she sprang with swift steps in the direction
of the Nile, shaking off the dogs who hung on
with their teeth at the edge of her tunic, or dragging
them through the dust until they let go; or she glared
at them with such fierce eyes that they drew back with
frightened yelps and let her pass by.</p>
<p>She had soon passed the dangerous and deserted
places inhabited at night by the members of the thieves'
association, and entered the wealthy quarter of Thebes.
Three or four streets bordered with tall buildings, the
shadows of which fell in great angles, led her to the
outer wall of the palace, which was the object of her
trip. The difficulty was to enter,—no easy matter at
that time of the night for an old Hebrew servant with
dusty feet and shabby garments.</p>
<div class="microspace"> </div>
<div class="center stext">Copyright 1901, by George D. Sproul</div>
<div class="imageb border2" style="width: 590px; height: 370px;">
<SPAN name="secondpic" id="secondpic"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/i228.jpg" width-obs="590" height-obs="370" alt="Copyright 1901, by George D. Sproul
GILBO & CO.
The Pharaoh slew but a short time ago three messengers with a
blow of his sceptre." title="" /><br/>
GILBO & CO.</div>
<div class="caption">
<div class="microspace"> </div>
<i>The Pharaoh slew but a short time ago three messengers with a
blow of his sceptre.</i></div>
<div class="minispace"> </div>
<p>She went to the main pylon, before which watched,
stretched at length, fifty ram-headed sphinxes, arranged<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</SPAN></span>
in two lines like monsters ready to crush between their
granite jaws the imprudent ones who should attempt to
force a passage. The sentinels stopped her, struck
her roughly with the shafts of their javelins, and then
asked her what she wished.</p>
<p>"I want to see the Pharaoh," replied the old
woman, rubbing her back.</p>
<p>"That's right,—very nice! Waken for this witch
the Pharaoh, favourite of Phré, beloved of Ammon Ra,
the destroyer of nations!" said the soldiers, laughing
loudly.</p>
<p>Thamar repeated obstinately, "I want to see the
Pharaoh at once."</p>
<p>"A very good time you have chosen for it! The
Pharaoh slew but a short time ago three messengers
with a blow of his sceptre. He sits on his terrace,
motionless and sinister like Typhon, the god of
evil," said a soldier who condescended to give this
explanation.</p>
<p>Ra'hel's maid endeavoured to force her way through;
the javelins rattled on her head like hammers on an
anvil. She began to yell like a bird plucked alive.</p>
<p>An officer came out on hearing the tumult; the
soldiers stopped beating Thamar.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"What does this woman want?" said the officer,
"and why are you beating her in this way?"</p>
<p>"I want to see the Pharaoh," cried Thamar, dragging
herself to the knees of the officer.</p>
<p>"Out of the question," replied the latter; "it is
out of the question,—even if, instead of being a low
wretch, you were one of the greatest personages in the
kingdom."</p>
<p>"I know where is Tahoser," whispered the old
woman in his ear, laying stress on each syllable.</p>
<p>On hearing this, the officer took Thamar by the
hand, led her through the first pylon and through the
avenue of pillars and the hypostyle hall into a second
court, where rose the granite sanctuary, with its two
outer columns with lotus capitals. There, calling
Timopht, he handed Thamar over to him.</p>
<p>Timopht led the servant to the terrace where sat the
Pharaoh, gloomy and silent.</p>
<p>"Keep well out of the reach of his sceptre," was
the advice Timopht gave to the Israelite.</p>
<p>As soon as she perceived the King through the
darkness, Thamar threw herself with her face to the
stone flags, by the side of the bodies which had not
yet been removed, and then sitting up, she said in a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</SPAN></span>
firm voice, "O Pharaoh, do not slay me, I bring you
good news."</p>
<p>"Speak without fear," replied the King, whose fury
had passed away.</p>
<p>"Tahoser, whom your messengers have sought in the
four corners of the world,—I know where she is."</p>
<p>At the name of Tahoser, Pharaoh rose as if moved
by a spring and stepped towards Thamar, who was still
kneeling.</p>
<p>"If you speak the truth, you may take from my
granite halls as much as you can lift of gold and
precious stones."</p>
<p>"I will put her in your hands, you may be sure,"
said the old woman, with a strident laugh.</p>
<p>What was the motive which had led Thamar to
inform the Pharaoh of the retreat where the priest's
daughter was in hiding?</p>
<p>She wished to prevent a union which she disliked.
She entertained towards the race of Egypt, a blind, fierce,
unreasoning, almost bestial hatred, and the thought of
breaking Tahoser's heart delighted her. Once in the
hands of the Pharaoh, Ra'hel's rival would be unable
to escape; the granite walls of the palace would keep
their prey.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Where is she?" said Pharaoh; "tell me the spot.
I want to see her at once."</p>
<p>"Your Majesty, I alone can guide you. I know
the windings of those loathsome quarters, where the
humblest of your servants would disdain to set <SPAN name="period" id="period"></SPAN>foot.
Tahoser is there, in a clay and straw hut which nothing
marks from the huts which surround it, amid the heaps
of bricks which the Hebrews make for you outside the
regular dwellings of the city."</p>
<p>"Very well, I will trust you. Timopht, have a
chariot brought around."</p>
<p>Timopht disappeared. Soon the wheels were heard
rolling over the stones of the court, and the horses
stamping and pawing as the equerries fastened them to
the yoke.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh came down, followed by Thamar.
He sprang up on the chariot, took the reins, and seeing
that Thamar hesitated,—</p>
<p>"Come, get up," he said.</p>
<p>He clucked his tongue, and the horses started. The
awakened echoes gave back the sound of the wheels,
which sounded like low thunder through the vast halls,
in the midst of the night silence. The hideous old
woman, clinging with her bony fingers to the rim of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</SPAN></span>
the chariot by the side of the godlike Pharaoh, presented
a strange sight, which fortunately was seen by
none but the stars twinkling in the deep blue heavens.
She resembled one of the evil genii of mysterious face
which accompany the guilty souls to Hades.</p>
<p>"Is this the way?" said the Pharaoh to the woman
at the forks of a street.</p>
<p>"Yes," replied Thamar, stretching her withered
hand in the right direction.</p>
<p>The horses, urged on by the whip, sprang forward,
and the chariot leaped upon the stones with a noise
of brass.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Tahoser slept by the side of Ra'hel. A
strange dream filled her sleep. She seemed to be in a
temple of immense size. Huge columns of prodigious
height upbore the blue ceiling studded with stars like
the heavens; innumerable lines of hieroglyphs ascended
and descended along the walls between the panels of
symbolic frescoes painted in bright colours. All the
gods of Egypt had met in this universal sanctuary, not
as brass, basalt, or porphyry effigies, but as living
shapes. In the first rank were seated the gods Knef,
Buto, Phtah, Pan-Mendes, Hathor, Phré, Isis; then
came the twelve celestial gods,—six male gods: Rempha,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</SPAN></span>
Pi-Zeous, Ertosi, Pi-Hermes, Imuthi; and six female
deities: the Moon, Ether, Fire, Air, Water, Earth.
Behind these swarmed vaguely and indistinctly three
hundred and sixty-five Decans, the familiar dæmons
of each day. Next appeared the terrestrial deities:
the second Osiris, Haroeri, Typhon, the second Isis,
Nephthys, the dog-headed Anubis, Thoth, Busiris,
Bubastis, the great Serapis. Beyond, in the shade,
were faintly seen idols in form of animals,—oxen,
crocodiles, ibises, hippopotami. In the centre of the
temple, in his open mummy-case, lay the high-priest
Petamounoph, who, the bandages having been unwound
from his face, gazed with an ironical air at that strange
and mysterious assembly. He was dead, not living,
and spoke, as it often happens in dreams; and he said
to his daughter, "Question them and ask them if they
are gods."</p>
<p>And Tahoser proceeded to put to each one that
question, and each and all replied: "We are only
numbers, laws, forces, attributes, effluvia, and thoughts
of God, but not one of us is the true God."</p>
<p>Then Poëri appeared on the threshold of the temple,
and took Tahoser by the hand and led her to a light so
brilliant that in comparison with it the sun would have<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</SPAN></span>
seemed black, and in the centre of which blazed in a
triangle words unknown to her.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Pharaoh's chariot flew over all obstacles,
and the axles of the wheels rayed the walls in the
narrow lanes.</p>
<p>"Pull in your horses," said Thamar to the Pharaoh;
"the noise of the wheels in this solitude and
silence might startle the fugitive, and she would again
escape you."</p>
<p>The Pharaoh thought this advice sound, and in spite
of his impatience made his horses slacken their impetuous
pace.</p>
<p>"There is the place," said Thamar; "I left the
door open. Go in. I shall look after the horses."</p>
<p>The king descended from the chariot, and bowing
his head, entered the hut. The lamp was still burning,
and shed its dying beams on the two sleeping
girls. The Pharaoh caught up Tahoser in his strong
arms and walked towards the door of the hut.</p>
<p>When the priest's daughter awoke, and saw flaming
near her face the shining face of the Pharaoh, she
thought at first that it was one of the fancies of her
dream transformed; but the air of night which struck
her face soon restored her to the sense of reality.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</SPAN></span>
Mad with terror, she tried to scream, to call for help;
the cry remained in her throat,—and then, who
would have helped her against the Pharaoh?</p>
<p>With one bound the King sprang on to his chariot,
threw the reins around his back, and pressing to his
breast the half-dead Tahoser, sent his coursers at their
top speed towards the Northern Palace.</p>
<p>Thamar glided like a serpent into the hut, crouched
down in her accustomed place, and gazed with a look
almost as tender as a mother's on her dear Ra'hel, who
was still sound asleep.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XIII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> draught of cold air, due to the speed of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</SPAN></span>
the chariot, soon made Tahoser recover
from her faint. Pressed and crushed
against the breast of the Pharaoh, by his two stony
arms, her heart had scarce room to beat, and the hard
enamelled collars were making their mark on her
heaving bosom. The horses, whose reins the King
slackened by bending towards the front of the car,
rushed furiously forward, the wheels went round like
whirlwinds, the brazen plates justled, the heated axles
smoked. Tahoser, terrified, saw vaguely, as in a
dream, flash to the right and left vast masses of buildings,
clumps of trees, palaces, temples, pylons, obelisks,
colossi, which the night made more fantastic and
terrible. What were the thoughts that filled her mind
during that mad rush? She thought as little as thinks
a dove, fluttering in the talons of a hawk which is
carrying it away to its eyrie. Mute terror stupefied
her, made her blood run cold and dulled her feelings.
Her limbs hung limp; her will was relaxed like her
muscles, and, had she not been held firmly in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</SPAN></span>
arms of the Pharaoh, she would have slipped and
fallen in a heap on the bottom of the chariot like a
piece of stuff which is let drop. Twice she thought
she felt upon her cheek a burning breath and two
lips of fire; she did not attempt to turn away her
head, terror had killed modesty in her. When the
chariot struck violently against a stone, a dim instinct
of self-preservation made her cling with her hands
to the shoulder of the King and press closer to him;
then she let herself go again and leaned with her
whole weight, light though it was, upon those arms
which held her.</p>
<p>The chariot entered the avenue of sphinxes, at the
end of which rose a giant pylon crowned with a cornice
on which the symbolic globe displayed its wings;
the lessening darkness allowed the priest's daughter to
recognise the King's palace. Then despair filled her
heart; she struggled, she strove to free herself from the
embrace which held her close; she pressed her frail
hands against the stony breast of the Pharaoh, stiffened
out her arms, throwing herself back over the edge of
the chariot. Her efforts were useless, her struggles
were vain. Her ravisher brought her back to his
breast with an irresistible, slow pressure, as if he would<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</SPAN></span>
have driven her into it. She tried to scream; her lips
were closed with a kiss.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the horses in three or four strides
reached the pylon, under which they passed at full
gallop, glad to return to the stable, and the chariot
rolled into the vast court. The servants hastened up
and sprang to the heads of the horses, whose bits were
white with foam.</p>
<p>Tahoser cast a terrified glance around her. High
brick walls formed a vast square enclosure in which
rose on the east a palace, on the west a temple, between
two great pools, the piscinæ of the sacred
crocodiles. The first rays of the sun, the orb of
which was already rising behind the Arabian mountains,
flushed with rosy light the top of the buildings,
the lower portions of which were still plunged in
bluish shadows.</p>
<p>There was no hope of flight. The buildings, though
in no wise gloomy, had a look of irresistible strength,
of absolute will, of eternal persistence: a world catastrophe
alone could have opened an issue through these
thick walls, through these piles of hard sandstone. To
overthrow the pylons built of fragments of mountains,
the earth itself would have had to quake; even a con<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</SPAN></span>flagration
could only have licked with its fiery tongues
those indestructible blocks.</p>
<p>Poor Tahoser did not have at her command such
violent means, and she was compelled to allow herself
to be carried like a child by the Pharaoh, who had
sprung from his chariot.</p>
<p>Four high columns with palm-leaf capitals formed the
propylæum of the palace into which the king entered,
still pressing to his breast the daughter of Petamounoph.
When he had passed through the door, he gently
placed his burden on the ground, and seeing Tahoser
stagger, he said to her: "Be reassured. You rule the
Pharaoh, and the Pharaoh rules the world."</p>
<p>These were the first words he had spoken to her.</p>
<p>If love followed the dictates of reason, Tahoser
would certainly have preferred the Pharaoh to Poëri.
The King was endowed with supreme beauty. His
great, clean, regular features seemed to be chiselled,
and not the slightest imperfection could be detected in
them. The habit of command had given to his glance
that penetrating gleam which makes divinities and kings
so easily recognisable. His lips, one word from which
would have changed the face of the world and the fate
of nations, were of a purple red, like fresh blood upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</SPAN></span>
the blade of a sword, and when he smiled, they possessed
that grace of terrible things which nothing can
resist. His tall, well proportioned, majestic figure
presented the nobility of form admired in the temple
statues; and when he appeared solemn and radiant,
covered with gold, enamels, and gems, in the midst of
the bluish vapour of the censers, he did not seem to
belong to that frail race which from generation to generation
falls like leaves, and is stretched, sticky with
bitumen, in the dark depths of the mummy pits.</p>
<p>What was poor Poëri by the side of this demigod?
Nevertheless, Tahoser loved him.</p>
<p>The wise have long since given up attempting to
explain the heart of woman. They are masters of
astronomy, astrology, and arithmetic; they know the
origin of the world, and can tell where were the planets
at the very moment of creation; they are sure that the
moon was then in the constellation of Cancer, the sun
in that of the Lion, Mercury in that of the Virgin,
Venus in the Balance, Mars in the Scorpion, Jupiter in
Sagittarius, Saturn in Capricorn; they trace on papyrus
or granite the direction of the celestial ocean, which
goes from the east to the west; they have summed up
the number of stars strewn over the blue robe of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</SPAN></span>
Goddess Neith, and make the sun travel in the lower or
the superior hemisphere with the twelve diurnal and the
twelve nocturnal baris under the conduct of the hawk-headed
pilot and of Neb Wa, the Lady of the Bark;
they know that in the second half of the month of Tobi,
Orion influences the left ear, and Sirius the heart;
but they are absolutely ignorant why a woman prefers
one man to another, a wretched Israelite to an
illustrious Pharaoh.</p>
<p>After having traversed several halls with Tahoser,
whom he led by the hand, the King sat down on a
seat in the shape of a throne in a superbly decorated
room.</p>
<p>Golden stars gleamed in the blue ceiling, and against
the pillars which supported the cornice were placed the
statues of kings wearing the pschent, their legs merging
into the block of stone and their arms crossed on their
chest, looking into the room with frightful intensity out
of their black-lined eyes. Between every two pillars
burned a lamp placed upon a pedestal, and on the base
of the walls was represented a sort of ethnographic
procession: the nations of the four quarters of the
world were represented there with their particular faces
and their particular dress.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>At the head of the series, guided by Horus the shepherd
of the nations, walked the man of men, the
Egyptian, the Rot'en'no with a gentle face, slightly
aquiline nose, plaited hair, and his dark red skin
brought out by the whiteness of the loin-cloth; next
came the negro or Nahasi, with his black skin, thick
lips, protruding cheekbones and woolly hair; then the
Asiatic or Namou, with yellow flesh-colour, strongly
aquiline nose, thick black beard cut to a point, wearing
a striped skirt fringed with tufts; then the European
or Tamhou, the least civilised of all, differing from the
others by his white complexion, his red beard and hair,
his blue eyes, an undressed ox-skin cast over his shoulder,
and his arms and legs tattooed. The other panels
were filled with various subjects, scenes of war and
triumph and hieroglyphic inscriptions.</p>
<p>In the centre of the room, on a table supported by
prisoners bound by the elbows, so skilfully carved
that they seemed to live and suffer, bloomed a vast
bouquet of flowers whose sweet scent perfumed the
atmosphere.</p>
<p>So in this vast hall, surrounded by the effigies of his
ancestors, all things spoke and sang of the glory of the
Pharaoh. The nations of the world walked behind<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</SPAN></span>
Egypt and acknowledged her supremacy, and he governed
Egypt. Yet the daughter of Petamounoph, far
from being dazzled by this splendour, thought of the
rustic villa, of Poëri, and especially of the mean hut of
mud and straw in the Hebrew quarter, where she had
left Ra'hel,—Ra'hel, from henceforward the happy
and only spouse of the young Hebrew.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh held the tips of the fingers of Tahoser,
who stood before him, and he fixed upon her his hawk
eyes, the eyelids of which never moved. The young
girl had no other garment than the drapery substituted
by Ra'hel for the dress which had been soaked during
the swim across the Nile, but her beauty was in no
wise impaired. She remained thus, half nude, holding
with one hand the coarse stuff which slipped, and the
whole upper portion of her beautiful body appeared in
its golden fairness. When she was adorned with her
jewels, one was tempted to regret that any part of her
form should be concealed by her necklaces, her bracelets,
and her belts of gold or of gems; but on seeing
her thus devoid of all ornament, admiration was satisfied,
or rather exalted. Certainly many very beautiful
women had entered the Pharaoh's harem, but not one
of them comparable to Tahoser; and the eyes of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</SPAN></span>
King flashed such burning glances that, unable to
bear their brilliancy, she was obliged to cast down
her eyes.</p>
<p>In her heart, Tahoser was proud of having excited
love in the Pharaoh; for who is the woman, however
perfect she may be, who has not some vanity. Yet she
would have preferred to follow the young Hebrew into
the desert. The King terrified her, she felt herself
dazzled by the splendour of his face, and her limbs
gave way under her.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh noticed her emotion, and made her sit
down at his feet on a red cushion adorned with tufts.</p>
<p>"Oh, Tahoser," he said, kissing her hair, "I love
you. When I saw you from the top of my triumphal
palanquin, borne higher than the heads of men by the
generals, an unknown feeling entered into my soul. I,
whose every desire is forestalled, desired something;
I understood that I was not everything. Until then I
had lived solitary in my almightiness, in the depths of
my vast palaces, surrounded by mere shadows which
called themselves women, and who had no more effect
upon me than the painted figures in the frescoes. I
heard in the distance, muttering and complaining low,
the nations upon whose heads I wipe my sandals or<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</SPAN></span>
which I lift by their hair, as I am represented doing on
the symbolical <i>bassi-relievi</i> of the palaces, and in my
cold breast, as strong as that of a basalt god, I never
heard the beat of my own heart. It seemed to me that
there was nowhere on earth a being like myself, a
being who could move me. In vain I brought back
from my expeditions into foreign lands choice virgins
and women famous for their beauty in their own country;
I cast them aside like flowers, after having breathed
their scent for a moment. None inspired me with a
desire to see her again. When they were present, I
scarce glanced at them; when they were absent, I immediately
forgot them. Twea, <SPAN name="taia" id="taia"></SPAN>Taïa, Amense, Hont-Reché,
whom I have kept to avoid the disgust of
having to find others who the next day would have
been as indifferent as themselves, have never been,
when in my arms, aught but vain phantoms, perfumed
and graceful forms, beings of another race with whom
my nature could not mingle any more than the leopard
can mate with the gazelle, the dweller in the air with
the dweller in the waters. I had come to think that,
placed by the gods apart from and above all mortals,
I was never to share either their pains or their joys.
Fearful weariness, like that which no doubt tires the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</SPAN></span>
mummies, who, wrapped up in their bands, wait in
their caves in the depths of the hypogea until the
soul shall have finished the cycle of migrations,—a
fearful weariness had fallen upon me on my throne;
for I often remained with my hands on my knees
like a granite colossus, thinking of the impossible,
the infinite, the eternal. How many a time have I
thought of raising the veil of Isis, at the risk of falling
blasted at the feet of the goddess. Perhaps, I
said to myself, that mysterious face is the one I have
been dreaming of, the one which is to inspire me
with love. If earth refuses me happiness, I shall
climb to heaven. But I saw you; I felt a strange,
unaccustomed sensation; I understood that there existed
outside myself a being necessary, imperious, and
fatal to me, whom I could not live without, and who
possessed the power of making me unhappy. I was
a king, almost a god, and you, O Tahoser, have made
of me a man."</p>
<p>Never, perhaps, had the Pharaoh uttered so long a
speech; usually a word, a gesture, a motion of the
eye sufficed to manifest his will, which was immediately
divined by a thousand attentive, restless eyes;
performance followed his thought, as the lightning<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</SPAN></span>
follows the thunder-clap. But with desire he seemed
to have given up his granitic majesty; he spoke and
explained himself like a mortal.</p>
<p>Tahoser was a prey to singular emotion. However
much she felt the honour of having inspired love in
the man preferred of Phré, in the favoured of Ammon
Ra, the destroyer of nations, in the terrifying, solemn
and superb being upon whom she scarce dared to
gaze, she felt no sympathy for him, and the idea
of belonging to him filled her with terror and repulsion.
To the Pharaoh who had carried off her body
she could not give her soul, which had remained with
Poëri and Ra'hel; and as the King appeared to await
a reply, she said,—</p>
<p>"How is it, O King, that amid all the maids of
Egypt your glance should have fallen on me,—on me
whom so many others surpass in beauty, in talent, in
gifts of all sorts? How is it that in the midst of
clumps of white, blue, and rose lotus, with open corollas,
with delicate scent, you have chosen the modest
blade of grass which nothing marks?"</p>
<p>"I know not, but I know that you alone exist
in this world for me, and that I shall make kings'
daughters your servants."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"But suppose I do not love you?" said Tahoser,
timidly.</p>
<p>"What care I, if I love you," replied the Pharaoh.
"Have not the most beautiful women in the world
thrown themselves down upon my threshold weeping
and moaning, tearing their cheeks, beating their
breasts, plucking out their hair, and have they not
died imploring a glance of love which never fell
upon them? Never has passion in any one made
my heart of brass beat within my stony breast. Resist
me, hate if you will,—you will only be more
charming; for the first time an obstacle will have
come in the way of my will, and I shall know how
to overcome it."</p>
<p>"But suppose I love another?" continued Tahoser,
more boldly.</p>
<p>At this suggestion the eyebrows of the Pharaoh
were bent; he violently bit his lower lip, in which
his teeth left white marks, and he pressed to the
point of hurting her the fingers of the maid which
he still held. Then he cooled down again, and said
in a low, deep voice,—</p>
<p>"When you shall have lived in this palace, in the
midst of these splendours, surrounded by the atmos<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</SPAN></span>phere
of my love, you will forget everything as does
he who eats nepenthe. Your past life will appear
to you like a dream, your former feelings will vanish
as incense upon the coals of the censer. The woman
who is loved by the King no longer remembers men.
Go, come; accustom yourself to Pharaonic magnificence;
help yourself as you please to my treasures;
make gold flow, heap up gems; order, make, unmake,
raise, destroy; be my mistress, my wife, my queen.
I give you Egypt with its priests, its armies, its toilers,
its numberless population, its palaces, its temples and
cities. Crumple it up as you would crumple up
gauze,—I will win other kingdoms for you, larger,
fairer, and richer. If the world is not sufficient, I
will conquer planets for you, I will dethrone the
gods. You are she whom I love; Tahoser, the
daughter of Petamounoph is no more."</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XIV</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="upper">hen</span> Ra'hel awoke, she was amazed not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</SPAN></span>
to find Tahoser by her side, and cast
her glance around the room, thinking the
Egyptian had already risen. Crouching in a corner,
her arms crossed on her knees, her head upon her
arms, which formed a bony pillow, Thamar slept,—or
rather, pretended to sleep; for through the long
locks of her disordered hair which fell to the ground,
might have been seen her eyes as yellow as those
of an owl, gleaming with malicious joy and satisfied
wickedness.</p>
<p>"Thamar," cried Ra'hel, "what has become of
Tahoser?"</p>
<p>The old woman, as if startled into wakefulness by
the voice of her mistress, slowly uncoiled her spider-like
limbs, rose to her feet, rubbed several times her
brown eyelids with the back of her left hand, yellower
than that of a mummy, and said with a well assumed
air of astonishment: "Is she not there?"</p>
<p>"No," replied Ra'hel; "and did I not yet see
her place hollowed out on the bed by the side of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</SPAN></span>
my own, and hanging on that peg the gown which
she threw off, I could believe that the strange
events of the past night were but an illusion and a
dream."</p>
<p>Though she was perfectly well aware of the manner
of Tahoser's disappearance, Thamar raised a piece
of the drapery stretched in the corner of the room,
as if the Egyptian might have been concealed behind
it. She opened the door of the hut and standing on
the threshold minutely explored the neighbourhood
with her glance; then turning towards the interior,
she signed negatively to her mistress.</p>
<p>"It is strange," said Ra'hel, thoughtfully.</p>
<p>"Mistress," said the old woman, drawing near the
Israelite, with a gentle, petting tone, "you know that
I disliked the foreign woman."</p>
<p>"You dislike every one, Thamar," replied Ra'hel,
smiling.</p>
<p>"Except you, mistress," answered the old woman,
placing to her lips one of the young woman's hands.</p>
<p>"I know it. You are devoted to me."</p>
<p>"I never had any children, and sometimes I fancy
that I am your mother."</p>
<p>"Good Thamar," said Ra'hel, moved.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Was I wrong," continued Thamar, "to consider
her appearance so strange? Her disappearance explains
it. She said she was Tahoser, the daughter of
Petamounoph. She was nothing but a fiend which
took that form to seduce and tempt a child of Israel.
Did you see how troubled she was when Poëri spoke
against the idols of wood, stone, and metal, and how
difficult it was for her to say, 'I will try to believe in
your God'? It seemed as though the words burnt
her lips like hot coals."</p>
<p>"The tears which fell upon my breast were genuine
tears,—a woman's tears," said Ra'hel.</p>
<p>"Crocodiles weep when they want, and hyenas
laugh to attract their prey," continued the old woman.
"The evil spirits which prowl at night in the stones
and ruins know many a trick and play every part."</p>
<p>"So, according to you, poor Tahoser was nothing
but a phantom raised up by hell?"</p>
<p>"Unquestionably," replied Thamar. "Is it likely
that the daughter of the priest Petamounoph would
have fallen in love with Poëri and preferred him to
the Pharaoh, who, it is said, loves her?"</p>
<p>Ra'hel, who did not admit that any one in the world
was superior to Poëri, did not think this unlikely.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"If she loved him as much as she said she did, why
did she run off when, with your consent, he accepted
her as his second wife? It was the condition that
she must renounce the false gods and adore Jehovah
which put to flight that devil in disguise."</p>
<p>"In any case, that devil had a very sweet voice and
very tender eyes."</p>
<p>At bottom Ra'hel was perhaps not greatly dissatisfied
with the disappearance of Tahoser; she thus kept
wholly to herself the heart which she had been willing
to share, and yet she had the merit of the sacrifice she
had made.</p>
<p>Under pretext of going to the market, Thamar
went out and started for the King's palace, her cupidity
not having allowed her to forget his promise. She
had provided herself with a great bag of coarse cloth
which she proposed to fill with gold.</p>
<p>When she appeared at the palace gate the soldiers
did not beat her as they had done the first day. She
enjoyed the king's favour, and the officer of the guard
made her enter at once. Timopht brought her to the
Pharaoh.</p>
<p>When he perceived the vile old hag crawling
towards his throne like a crushed insect, the King<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</SPAN></span>
remembered his promise and gave orders to open
one of the granite chambers of the treasury, and
to allow her to take as much gold as she could
carry away. Timopht, whom Pharaoh trusted, and
who knew the secret of the lock, opened the stone
gate.</p>
<p>The vast mass of gold sparkled in the sunbeams,
but the brilliancy of the metal was no brighter than
the glance of the old woman. Her eyes turned yellow
and flashed strangely. After a few moments of
dazzled contemplation, she pulled up the sleeves
of her patched tunic and bared her withered arms, on
which the muscles stood out like cords, and which
were deeply wrinkled above the elbow; then she
opened and closed her curved fingers, like the talons
of a griffin, and sprang at the mass of golden bars
with fierce and bestial avidity. She plunged her arms
amid the ingots, moved them, stirred them round,
rolled them over, threw them up; her lips trembled,
her nostrils swelled, and down her spine ran convulsive
tremors. Intoxicated, mad, shaken by trepidation
and spasmodic laughter, she cast handfuls of gold into
her bag, saying, "More! more! more!" so that soon
it was full up to the mouth.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Timopht, amused at the sight, let her have her way,
not dreaming that such a skinny spectre could move
so enormous a weight. But Thamar bound the mouth
of her sack with a cord, and to the great surprise of
the Egyptian, lifted it on her back. Avarice lent to
that broken-down frame unexpected strength of muscles;
all the nerves and fibres of the arms, the neck,
the shoulders, strained to breaking, bore up under a
mass of metal which would have made the most robust
Nahasi porter bow down. Her brows bent, like those
of an ox when the ploughshare strikes a stone, Thamar
staggered out of the palace, knocking up against the
walls, walking almost on all-fours, for every now and
then she put her hands out to save herself from being
crushed under her burden. But at last she got out,
and the load of gold was her legitimate property.
Breathless, exhausted, covered with sweat, her back
bruised and her fingers cut, she sat down at the palace
gate upon her beloved sack, and never did any seat
appear to her so soft. After a short time, she perceived
a couple of Israelites, passing by with a litter
on which they had been bearing a burden. She
called them, and promising them a handsome reward,
induced them to take up the sack and to follow<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</SPAN></span>
her. The Israelites, preceded by Thamar, went
down the streets of Thebes, reached the waste places
studded with mud huts and placed the sack in one
of them. Thamar paid them grumblingly the promised
reward.</p>
<p>Meanwhile Tahoser had been installed in a splendid
apartment, a regal apartment as beautiful as that of the
Pharaoh. Elegant pillars with lotus capitals upbore
the starry roof, framed in by a cornice of blue palm-branches
painted upon a golden background. Panels
of a tender lilac-colour with green lines ending in
flower buds showed symmetrically on the walls; fine
matting covered the stone slabs of the flooring; sofas,
inlaid with plates of metal alternating with enamels,
and covered with black stuffs adorned with red circles,
armchairs with lions' feet, with cushions that fell over
the back, stools formed of swans' necks interlaced,
piles of purple leather cushions filled with thistle-down,
seats which could hold two persons, tables of costly
woods supported by statues of Asiatic captives,—formed
the furniture of the room.</p>
<p>On richly carved pedestals rested tall porcelain vases
and great golden bowls, the workmanship of which was
even more precious than the material. One of them<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</SPAN></span>
with a slender base, was supported by two horses' heads
with fringed hoods and harness. The handles were
formed of two lotus stalks gracefully falling over
two rose ornaments; on the cover were ibises with
erect ears and sharp horns, and on the body of the
vase were represented gazelles flying from the dogs
amid stalks of papyrus. Another, no less curious,
had for cover a monstrous Typhon head, adorned
with palms and grimacing between two vipers. The
sides were ornamented with leaves and denticulated
bands.</p>
<p>One of the bowls, supported by two figures wearing
mitres and dressed in robes with broad borders, with one
hand upbearing the handle and with the other the foot,
amazed by its huge size and the perfection and finish
of the ornamentation. The other, smaller and more
perfect in shape perhaps, spread out gracefully; the
slender and supple bodies of jackals whose paws rested
upon the edge as if the animals sought to drink, formed
the handles. Metal mirrors, framed with deformed
faces, as though to give the beauty who looked into
them the pleasure of contrast, coffers of cedar or sycamore
wood painted and ornamented, caskets of enamelled
ware, flagons of alabaster, onyx, and glass, boxes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</SPAN></span>
of perfumes,—all these testified to the magnificence
that the Pharaoh lavished upon Tahoser. The precious
objects contained in that room were well worth a
kingdom's ransom.</p>
<p>Seated upon an ivory seat, Tahoser looked at the
stuffs and gems shown her by nude maidens, who
scattered around the wealth contained in the coffers.
Tahoser had just emerged from the bath, and the
aromatic oils with which she had been rubbed, still
further softened her delicate, satin-like skin; her flesh
was almost translucent. She was of superhuman
beauty, and when she gazed upon the burnished metal
mirror, with her eyes brightened with antimony, she
could not help smiling upon her reflection. A full
gauze robe enveloped her fair form without veiling it.
For sole ornament she wore a necklace composed of
lapis-lazuli hearts surmounted by crosses, hanging from
a string of gold and pearls.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh appeared on the threshold of the
hall. A golden asp bound his thick hair, and a
calasiris, the folds of which, brought forward, formed
a point, enclosed his body from the belt to the knees;
a single necklace encircled his unconquered, muscular
neck.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>On perceiving the King, Tahoser rose from her
seat to prostrate herself, but the Pharaoh came to her,
raised her up, and made her sit down.</p>
<p>"Do not thus humble yourself, Tahoser," he said
in a gentle voice. "I will you to be my equal. I am
weary of being alone in the universe. Although I am
almighty and possess you, I shall wait until you love
me as if I were but a man. Put away all fear; be a
woman with a woman's will, sympathies, antipathies,
and caprices. I have never seen one. But if your
heart at last speaks in my favour, hold out to me,
when I enter your room, in order that I may know it,
the lotus flower out of your hair."</p>
<p>Though he strove to prevent it, Tahoser threw herself
at the knees of the Pharaoh and let fall a tear upon
his bare feet.</p>
<p>"Why is my soul Poëri's?" she said to herself as
she resumed her place upon the ivory seat.</p>
<p>Timopht, putting one hand on the ground and the
other on his head, entered the room.</p>
<p>"O King," he said, "a mysterious personage seeks
to speak to you. His gray beard falls down to his
waist, shining horns emerge from his bare brow, and
his eyes shine like fire. An unknown power precedes<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</SPAN></span>
him, for all the guards fall back and all the gates open
before him. What he says must be done, and I have
come to you in the midst of your pleasures, even were
death to be the punishment of my audacity."</p>
<p>"What is his name?" said the King.</p>
<p>"Mosche," replied Timopht.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XV</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> King passed into another hall to receive<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</SPAN></span>
Mosche, and sat down on a throne, the
arms of which were formed of lions, hung
a broad pectoral ornament on his breast, and assumed
a pose of supreme indifference.</p>
<p>Mosche appeared, accompanied by another Hebrew,
called Aharon. August though the Pharaoh was, as he
sat on his golden throne, surrounded by his officers and
his fan-bearers, within that high hall with its huge
columns, against that background of paintings which
depicted the deeds of his ancestors or his own, Mosche
was no less imposing. In him the majesty of age
equalled the majesty of sovereignty. Although he was
seventy years old, he seemed endowed with manly
vigour, and nothing in him showed decadence into
senility. The wrinkles on his brow and his cheeks,
like the marks of the chisel on the granite, made him
venerable without telling his age. His brown and
wrinkled neck was joined to his powerful shoulders by
gaunt but still powerful muscles, and a network of
sinewy veins showed upon his hands, which did not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</SPAN></span>
tremble as old men's hands generally do. A soul more
energetic than a human soul vivified his body, and on
his face shone in the shadow a strange light. It
seemed like the reflection of an invisible sun.</p>
<p>Without prostrating himself, as was the custom
when men approached the King, Mosche drew near the
throne of the Pharaoh and said to him: "Thus saith
the Lord God of Israel: 'Let my people go, that they
may hold a feast unto me in the wilderness.'"</p>
<p>The Pharaoh replied, "Who is the Lord, that I
should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not
the Lord, neither will I let Israel go."</p>
<p>Without being intimidated by the King's words, the
tall old man replied unhesitatingly, for the stuttering
which had formerly affected him had disappeared,—</p>
<p>"The God of the Hebrews hath met with us. Let
us go, we pray thee, three days' journey into the desert,
and sacrifice unto the Lord our God; lest he fall upon
us with pestilence, or with the sword."</p>
<p>Aharon confirmed by a nod the demand of Mosche.</p>
<p>"Wherefore do ye, Mosche and Aharon, let the people
from their works?" replied the Pharaoh. "Happily
for you I am to-day in a clement humour, for I
might have had you beaten with rods, had your tongues<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</SPAN></span>
and ears cut off, or thrown you living to the crocodiles.
Know, for I tell you so, there is no other god than
Ammon Ra, the supreme and primeval being, at once
male and female; who is his own father and his own
mother, whose husband he is also; from whom come
all the other gods which unite heaven to earth and
which are but forms of those two obscure principles.
The wise know it, and the priests, who have long
studied mysteries in the colleges and in the temples
consecrated to his diverse representations. Do not,
therefore, allege another god of your own invention to
move the Hebrews to revolt, and to prevent them from
doing their appointed work. Your pretext of sacrifice
is plain,—you wish to flee. Withdraw from before
me, and continue to mould clay for my royal and
priestly buildings, for my pyramids, my palaces, and
my walls. Go! I have spoken."</p>
<p>Mosche, seeing that he could not move the Pharaoh's
heart, and that if he insisted he would excite his wrath,
withdrew in silence, followed by Aharon in dismay.</p>
<p>"I have obeyed the Lord God," said Mosche to his
companion when they had crossed the pylon, "but
the Pharaoh remains as insensible as if I had been
speaking to those granite figures seated upon thrones at<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</SPAN></span>
the palace gates, or to those idols with heads of dogs,
monkeys, or hawks to which the priests burn incense
within the depths of the sanctuaries. What shall we
reply to the people when they question us on the result
of our mission?"</p>
<p>The Pharaoh, fearing lest the Hebrews should bethink
themselves of throwing off their yoke in accordance
with the suggestions of Mosche, made them work
more severely than before, and refused them straw to
make their bricks. Thenceforth the children of Israel
spread throughout Egypt, plucking the stubble and
cursing their tyrants; for they were very unhappy,
and they said that the advice of Mosche had increased
their misery.</p>
<p>One day Mosche and Aharon reappeared in the
palace, and once again called upon the King to let the
Hebrews go to sacrifice unto the Lord in the wilderness.</p>
<p>"What proof have I," replied the Pharaoh, "that it
is the Lord who sends you to me to tell me these things,
and that you are not, as I fancy, vile impostors?"</p>
<p>Aharon threw down his wand before the King, and
the wood began to twist, to curl, to grow scales, to
move its head and tail, to rise up, and to utter horrible
hissings: the wand had been changed into a serpent.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</SPAN></span>
Its rings grated over the flags, it swelled its hood,
it whipped out its forked tongue, and rolling its red
eyes, seemed to select the victim which it was about
to bite.</p>
<p>The officers and servants ranged around the throne
remained motionless and mute with terror at the sight
of this prodigy; the bravest half drew their swords.</p>
<p>But the Pharaoh was in no wise moved. A disdainful
smile flitted over his lips, and he said,—</p>
<p>"Is that all you can do? The miracle is slight,
and the prodigy poor. Send for my wise men, my
sorcerers and my magicians."</p>
<p>They came. They were men of venerable and
mystic appearance, with shaven heads, wearing sandals
of byblos, dressed in long linen robes, holding
in their hands wands on which were engraved hieroglyphs.
They were yellow and dried up like
mummies by night watches, study, and austerity; the
fatigue entailed by successive initiations could be read
upon their faces, in which their eyes alone seemed
to retain life.</p>
<p>They drew up in a line before the throne of the
Pharaoh without paying the least attention to the
serpent, which wriggled, crawled, and hissed.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Can you," said the King, "change your wands
into reptiles as Aharon has done?"</p>
<p>"O King, is it for such child's play," said the
oldest of the band, "that you have sent for us from
the recesses of the secret chambers where under the
starry ceilings, by the light of the lamps, we are
meditating, bending over undecipherable papyri, kneeling
before the hieroglyphic stelæ with their mysterious,
deep meanings, forcing the secrets of nature, calculating
the power of numbers, bearing our trembling
hand to the border of the veil of the great Isis?
Let us go back, for life is short, and the wise man
has scarce time to tell to another the word which
he has learned. Let us go back to our laboratories.
The merest juggler, the first charmer of serpents
who plays the flute on the public squares, will suffice
to satisfy you."</p>
<p>"Ennana, do what I wish," said the Pharaoh to
the chief of the wise men and the magicians.</p>
<p>Old Ennana turned towards the band of sages,
who remained standing motionless, their minds already
lost again in deep meditations.</p>
<p>"Cast down every man your rod as you whisper
the magic word."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The rods fell together with a sharp sound upon
the stone slabs, and the wise men resumed their
perpendicular attitude like the statues placed against
the pillars of the tombs. They did not even deign
to look at their feet to see if the miracle were being
wrought, so sure were they of the power of their
formula.</p>
<p>And then was seen a strange and horrible sight.
The rods twisted like branches of green wood in
the fire, the ends flattened out into the shape of
heads, thinned out into the shape of tails. Some
remained smooth, others became scaly, according to
the kind of serpent. All these swarmed and crawled
and hissed, interlaced and knotted into hideous knots.
There were vipers bearing the mark of the spearhead
upon their low brows, horned snakes with menacing
protuberances, greenish, viscous hydras, asps
with movable fangs, yellow trigonocephalæ, orvets or
blind serpents, crotalidæ with short heads, black skins,
and rattles on their tails, amphisbena, which can glide
forward or backward, boas opening mouths wide
enough to swallow an ox, serpents with eyes surrounded
with discs like those of owls;—the pavement
of the hall was covered with them.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Tahoser, who shared the throne of the Pharaoh,
raised her beautiful bare feet and pulled them back
under her, pale with terror.</p>
<p>"Well," said the Pharaoh to Mosche, "you see
that the skill of my magicians equals, and even surpasses
yours; their rods have turned into serpents
like that of Aharon. Invent another prodigy if you
seek to convince me."</p>
<p>Mosche stretched forth his hand, and Aharon's
serpent glided towards the twenty-four reptiles. The
struggle was not long; it soon had swallowed the
hideous things, real or seeming creations of the wise
men of Egypt. Then it resumed its former wand
shape.</p>
<p>This result seemed to amaze Ennana. He bent
his head, thought for a moment, and said, like a man
who perceives something: "I shall find the word
and the sign. I have interpreted wrongly the fourth
hieroglyph of the fifth perpendicular line in which
is the spell of serpents. O King, do you still
need us?" said the chief of the wise men aloud.
"I long to resume the reading of Hermes Trismegistus,
which contains more important secrets than
these sleight-of-hand tricks."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Pharaoh signed to the old man that he might
withdraw, and the silent procession returned to the
depths of the palace.</p>
<p>The King re-entered the harem with Tahoser.
The priest's daughter, terrified and still trembling
at these prodigies, knelt down before him and said:
"O Pharaoh, do you not fear to anger by your
resistance the unknown god who has ordered these
Israelites to go a three days' journey into the desert
to sacrifice unto him? Let Mosche and his Hebrews
depart to fulfil their rites, for perhaps the Lord, as
they call him, will afflict the land of Egypt and bring
death upon us."</p>
<p>"What! does that reptile jugglery frighten you?"
replied the Pharaoh. "Did you not see that my
wise men produced serpents with their wands?"</p>
<p>"Yes, but Aharon's devoured them, and that is
an ill omen."</p>
<p>"What matters it? Am I not the favourite of
Phré, the preferred of Ammon Ra? Have I not under
my sandals the effigies of conquered nations? With
one breath I shall sweep away when I please the
whole of that Hebrew race, and I shall see if their
god can protect them."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Beware, Pharaoh," said Tahoser, who remembered
Poëri's words about the power of Jehovah.
"Do not allow pride to harden your heart. Mosche
and Aharon terrify me; they must be supported by a
more powerful god, for they braved your wrath."</p>
<p>"If their god is so powerful," said the Pharaoh,
answering the fear expressed by Tahoser, "would
he leave them thus captives, humiliated and bowing
like beasts of burden under the harvest labour? Let
us forget these vain prodigies and live in peace.
Think rather of the love I bear you, and remember
that the Pharaoh is more powerful than the Lord,
the fanciful god of the Hebrews."</p>
<p>"Yes, you are the destroyer of the nations and the
ruler of thrones, and men are before you like grains
of sand blown by the southern wind. I know it,"
replied Tahoser.</p>
<p>"And yet I cannot make you love me," said the
Pharaoh, with a smile.</p>
<p>"The ibex fears the lion, the dove dreads the hawk,
the eye shrinks from the sun, and I can see you yet
only through terror and blazing light. It takes human
weakness a long time to become familiar with royal
majesty; a god always terrifies a mortal."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"You fill me with regret, Tahoser, that I am not the
first-comer, an officer, a nomarch, a priest, a labourer,
or even less. But since I cannot make the King into
a man, I can make a queen out of the woman and
bind the golden uræus upon your lovely brow. The
Queen will no longer dread the King."</p>
<p>"Even when you make me sit by you on your
throne, my thoughts remain kneeling at your feet.
But you are so good in spite of your superhuman
beauty, your power so boundless and your splendour
so dazzling, that perhaps my heart will grow bold and
will dare to beat against yours."</p>
<p>Thus talked the Pharaoh and Tahoser. The
priest's daughter could not forget Poëri, and sought to
gain time by flattering the passion of the King. To
escape from the palace, to find the young Hebrew
again, was impossible. Besides, Poëri had accepted
her love rather than shared it. Ra'hel, in spite of her
generosity, was a dangerous rival; and then, the love
of the Pharaoh touched the priest's daughter,—she
desired to love him, and perhaps she was not so far
from doing so as she believed.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XVI</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> <span class="upper">few</span> days later the Pharaoh was driving<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</SPAN></span>
along the Nile, standing on his chariot and
followed by his court. He had gone forth to
observe the height of the flood, when in the centre of
the road appeared, like two phantoms, Aharon and
Mosche. The king drew in his horses, the foam of
whose mouths was already flecking the breast of the
tall, motionless old man.</p>
<p>Mosche, with slow and solemn voice repeated his
adjuration.</p>
<p>"Prove to me by some wonder the power of your
god," answered the King, "and I will grant your
request."</p>
<p>Turning towards Aharon, who was a few steps
behind him, Mosche said, "Take thy rod, and stretch
out thine hand upon the waters of Egypt, upon their
streams, upon their rivers, and upon their ponds, and
upon all their pools of water, that they may become
blood; and that there may be blood throughout all
the land of Egypt, both in vessels of wood and in
vessels of stone."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Aharon lifted up his rod and smote the waters that
were in the river. The train of the Pharaoh awaited
the result anxiously. The King, who had a heart of
brass within a breast of granite, smiled disdainfully,
trusting in the skill of his wise men to confound the
foreign magicians. As soon as the river had been
smitten by the rod of the Hebrew,—the rod which
had been a serpent,—the waters began to turn muddy
and to boil; their mud colour was gradually changed;
reddish tones began to mingle with it; then the
whole mass assumed a sombre purple colour, and
the Nile seemed a river of blood with scarlet waves
that edged the banks with rosy foam. It seemed
to reflect a vast conflagration or a sky rayed by
lightning, but the atmosphere was calm, Thebes was
not burning, and the unchanging azure spread over
the red stream, marked here and there by the white
bellies of dead fishes. The long crocodiles, using
their crooked paws, emerged from the river on to
the bank, and the heavy hippopotami, like blocks of
rose granite covered with leprous, black moss, fled
through the reeds, or raised above the stream their
mighty heads, unable to breathe in that water of
blood. The canals, the fish-ponds, and the pools<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</SPAN></span>
had all turned the same colour, and the vessels full
of water were red like the basins in which the blood
of victims is collected.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh was not astonished at the wonder, and
said to the Hebrews,—</p>
<p>"This miracle might terrify a credulous and ignorant
people, but it has nothing surprising for me. Let
Ennana and the wise men come. They will repeat
this enchantment."</p>
<p>The wise men came, led by their chief. Ennana
cast a glance on the river and its purple waves, and
saw at once what was the matter.</p>
<p>"Restore things to their primitive condition," he
said to Mosche's companion; "I will repeat your
wonder."</p>
<p>Aharon again smote the stream, which at once
resumed its natural colour. Ennana nodded briefly,
like an impartial expert who does justice to the skill of
a colleague; he considered the enchantment was well
wrought for one who had not had, like himself, the
opportunity of studying wisdom in the mysterious
chambers of the labyrinth, where a very few of the
initiated can alone enter, so trying are the tests which
have to be undergone.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"It is my turn now," he said; and he stretched out
over the Nile his rod engraved with hieroglyphic signs,
muttering a few words of a tongue so old that it had
probably ceased to be understood even in the days of
Mene, the first king of Egypt,—a language spoken
by sphinxes, with syllables of granite.</p>
<p>A vast red flood stretched suddenly from one bank
to the other, and the Nile again rolled ensanguined
waves to the sea. The twenty-four magicians saluted
the king as if they were about to withdraw.</p>
<p>"Remain," said the Pharaoh.</p>
<p>They resumed their impassible countenances.</p>
<p>"Have you no other proof of your mission than
that? My wise men, you see, imitate your wonders
very well."</p>
<p>Without appearing discouraged by the ironical words
of the King, Mosche replied: "In seven days' time,
if you have not made up your mind to let Israel go
into the desert to sacrifice to the Lord according to
their rites, I shall return and perform another wonder
before you."</p>
<p>At the end of seven days Mosche reappeared.
He spoke to his servant Aharon the words of the
Lord:<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p>"Stretch out thine hand with thy rod over the
streams, over the rivers, and over the ponds, and cause
the frogs to come up upon the land of Egypt."</p>
<p>As soon as Aharon had done as he was bidden, millions
of frogs emerged from the canals, the rivers, and
the marshes; they covered the fields and the roads,
they hopped upon the steps of the temples and the
palaces, they invaded the sanctuaries and the most
secret chambers; legions of other frogs followed those
which had first appeared; they were found in the
houses, in the kneading-troughs, in the ovens, in
the coffers; no one could step anywhere without
crushing some. As if moved by springs, they jumped
between peoples' legs, to the right and the left, forward
and backward; as far as the eye could reach, they
were seen rippling, hopping, jumping past one another,
for they already lacked room, and their numbers grew,
their ranks became denser, they formed heaps here
and there; innumerable green backs turned the countryside
into a sort of animated green meadow, on which
their yellow eyes shone like flowers. The animals,—horses,
asses, goats,—terrified and startled, fled across
the fields, but everywhere came upon the loathsome
swarms.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The Pharaoh, who from the threshold of his palace
beheld this rising tide of frogs with weariness and disgust,
crushed as many as he could with the end of his
sceptre and pushed back the others with his curved
sandals, but his labour was lost; more frogs came no
one knew whence, and took the places of the dead,
swarming more than they did, croaking more than
they did, more loathsome, more uncomfortable, bolder,
showing the vertebræ on their backs, staring at
him with their big, round eyes, spreading out their
webbed feet, wrinkling the white skin of their throats.
The vile animals seemed endowed with intelligence,
and they formed denser shoals around the King than
anywhere else.</p>
<p>The swarming flood grew and still grew: on the
knees of the colossi, on the cornices of the palaces, on
the backs of the sphinxes, on the entablatures of the
temples, on the shoulders of the gods, on the pyramidions
of the obelisks, the hideous reptiles, with swollen
backs and indrawn feet, had taken up their places.
The ibises, which at first had rejoiced at this unexpected
treat, and had lanced them with their long
beaks, now alarmed by this mighty invasion fled to the
upper regions of the sky, snapping their long bills.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Aharon and Mosche triumphed. Ennana, having
been summoned, was sunk in thought; his finger,
placed upon his bald brow, his eyes half-closed, he
seemed to be seeking within his memory for a forgotten
magic formula.</p>
<p>The Pharaoh, somewhat uneasy, turned towards
him. "Well, Ennana, have you lost your mind by
dint of thought? Is this wonder beyond the reach of
your wisdom?"</p>
<p>"In no wise, O King; but when a man is engaged
in measuring the infinite and calculating eternity and
in spelling out the incomprehensible, it may happen
that he does not at once recall the odd word which
rules reptiles, makes them live or destroys them.
Watch! all this vermin is about to vanish."</p>
<p>The old magician waved his wand and whispered a
few words; in an instant the fields, the squares, the
roads, the quays along the stream, the streets in the
city, the courts of the palaces, the rooms of the houses,
were cleansed of their croaking guests, and restored to
their primitive condition.</p>
<p>The King smiled, proud of the power of his magician.</p>
<p>"It is not enough to have broken the spell of
Aharon," said Ennana; "I shall repeat it."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Ennana waved his wand in the opposite direction
and muttered the contrary formula. Immediately the
frogs reappeared in greater numbers than before, leaping
and croaking. In a twinkling the whole land was
covered with them, and then Aharon stretched out his
rod, and the Egyptian magician was unable to dispel
the invasion called up by his enchantment. In vain he
spoke the mysterious words, the incantation had lost its
power. The bands of wise men withdrew, pursued by
the loathsome scourge, and the brows of the Pharaoh
were bent with anger, but he hardened his heart and
would not grant the prayer of Mosche; his pride
strove to struggle and to fight against the unknown
God of Israel.</p>
<p>However, unable to get rid of the terrible reptiles,
Pharaoh promised Mosche, if he would intercede for
him with his God, to grant the Hebrews permission to
go into the desert to sacrifice.</p>
<p>The frogs died or returned to the waters, but the
Pharaoh hardened his heart, and in spite of the gentle
remonstrances of Tahoser, he did not keep his promise.</p>
<p>Then was let loose upon Egypt a multitude of
scourges and plagues. A fierce warfare was waged
between the wise men and the two Hebrews whose<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</SPAN></span>
wonders they reproduced. Mosche changed all the
dust in Egypt into lice; Ennana did the same.
Mosche took two handfuls of ashes of the furnace
and sprinkled them toward the heaven in the sight of
the Pharaoh, and immediately they became a boil
breaking forth with blains upon man and upon beast
among the Egyptians, but not upon the Hebrews.</p>
<p>"Imitate that wonder!" cried the Pharaoh, beside
himself with anger, and as red as if he were standing
in front of a fiery furnace, as he addressed himself to
the chief of the wise men.</p>
<p>"It would be useless," replied the old man, in a
tone of discouragement. "The finger of the Unknown
is in all this; our vain formulæ cannot prevail
against that mysterious power. Submit, and let us
return to our sanctuaries to study this new god, this
Lord, who is more powerful than Ammon Ra, Osiris,
and Typhon. The learning of Egypt has been overcome,
the riddle of the sphinx cannot be answered, and
the vast mystery of the great Pyramid covers nothingness
only."</p>
<p>As the Pharaoh still refused to let the Hebrews go,
all the cattle of the Egyptians were smitten with death;
the Israelites lost not a single head.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>A wind from the south arose and blew all night
long, and in the morning when day dawned, a vast red
cloud concealed the whole of the heavens. Through
the dun-coloured fog the sun shone red like a buckler
in the forge, and seemed to have lost its beams. The
cloud was different from other clouds, it was a living
cloud; the noise of its wings was heard; it alighted
on the earth, not in the shape of great drops of rain,
but in shoals of rose, yellow, and green grasshoppers,
more numerous than the grains of sand in the Libyan
desert. They followed each other in swarms like the
straw blown about by the storm; the air was darkened;
they filled up the ditches, the ravines, the streams;
they put out by their mere mass the fires lighted to
destroy them; they struck against obstacles and then
heaped up and overcame them. If a man opened his
mouth, he breathed one in; they found their way into
the folds of the clothing, into the hair, into the nostrils;
their dense columns made chariots turn back; they
overthrew the solitary passer-by and soon covered him.
Their formidable army, springing and flying, marched
over Egypt from the Cataracts to the Delta, over an
immense breadth of country, destroying the grass, reducing
the trees to the condition of skeletons, devour<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</SPAN></span>ing
plants to the roots, leaving behind but a bare earth
trodden down like a threshing-floor.</p>
<p>At the request of the Pharaoh Mosche made the
scourge cease. An extremely violent west wind
carried all the grasshoppers into the Sea of Weeds;
but the Pharaoh's obstinate heart, harder than brass,
porphyry, or basalt, would not relent.</p>
<p>Hail, a scourge unknown to Egypt, fell from
Heaven amid blinding lightning and deafening thunder,
in enormous stones, cutting, bruising, breaking everything,
mowing down the grain as if with a scythe.
Then black, opaque, horrifying darkness, in which
lights were extinguished as in the depths of the airless
passages, spread its heavy clouds over the land of
Egypt, so fair, so luminous, so golden under its azure
sky, where the night is clearer than the daytime in
other climes. The terrified people, believing themselves
already shrouded in the impenetrable darkness
of the sepulchre, groped their way or sat down by the
propylæa, uttering plaintive cries and tearing their
clothes.</p>
<p>One night, a night of terror and of horror, a spectre
flew across the whole of Egypt, entering every house
the door of which was not marked with red, and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</SPAN></span>
first-born of the males died, the son of the Pharaoh
as well as the son of the meanest hind; yet the
King, notwithstanding all these dread signs, would
not yield.</p>
<p>He remained within the recesses of his palace, fierce,
silent, gazing at the body of his son stretched out upon
the funeral couch with the jackals' feet, and heedless
of the tears of Tahoser which wetted his hand.</p>
<p>Mosche stood upon the threshold of the room without
any one having introduced him, for all the servants
had fled hither and thither; and he repeated his
demand with imperturbable serenity.</p>
<p>"Go," said Pharaoh at last, "and sacrifice unto your
God as you please."</p>
<p>Tahoser threw herself on the King's neck, and said
to him, "Now I love you, for you are a man, and not
a god of granite."</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XVII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> Pharaoh did not answer Tahoser; he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</SPAN></span>
gazed with a sombre eye upon the body of
his first-born son; his untamed pride rebelled,
even as he yielded. In his heart he did not
believe in the Lord, and he explained away the scourges
which had smitten Egypt by attributing them to the
magic power of Mosche and Aharon, which was
greater than that of his magicians. The thought of
yielding exasperated his violent, fierce soul.</p>
<p>But even had he wished to retain the Israelites, his
terrified people would not have allowed it. The
Egyptians, dreading to die, would all have driven out
the foreigners who were the cause of their ills and
suffering. They kept away from them with superstitious
terror, and when the great Hebrew passed, followed
by Aharon, the bravest fled, fearing some new
prodigy, and they said, "Is not the rod of his companion
about to turn into a serpent again and coil itself
around us?"</p>
<p>Had Tahoser then forgotten Poëri when she threw
her arms around the Pharaoh's neck? In no wise;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</SPAN></span>
but she felt, springing up within the King's obstinate
soul, projects of vengeance and of extermination; she
feared massacres in which would have fallen the young
Hebrew and the gentle Ra'hel,—a general destruction,
which this time would have changed the waters of the
Nile into real blood; and she strove to turn away the
King's wrath by her caresses and gentle words.</p>
<p>The funeral procession came for the body of the
young prince, to carry it to the Memnonia quarter,
where it was to undergo the preparation for embalming,
which lasts seventy days. The Pharaoh saw the
body depart with a gloomy look, and he said, as if filled
with a melancholy presentiment,—</p>
<p>"Now have I no longer a son, O Tahoser. If I
die, you will be Queen of Egypt."</p>
<p>"Why speak of death?" said the priest's daughter;
"years will follow years without leaving a trace of
their passage upon your robust body, and generations
will fall around you like the leaves around a tree which
remains standing."</p>
<p>"Have I not been vanquished,—I who am invincible?"
replied the Pharaoh. "Of what use are the
<i>bassi-relievi</i> of the temples and the palaces which
represent me armed with a scourge and a sceptre,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</SPAN></span>
driving my war chariot over bodies, and dragging
by their hair subject nations, if I am obliged to yield
to the spells of a foreign magician,—if the gods to
whom I have raised so many vast temples, built for
eternity, do not defend me against the unknown god of
that low race? The prestige of my power is forever
gone; my wise men, reduced to silence, abandon me;
my people murmur against me. I am only a mighty
simulacrum. I willed, and I could not perform. You
were right when you said just now, Tahoser, that I am
a man. I have come down to the level of men. But
since you love me now, I shall try to forget; I shall
wed you when the funeral ceremonies are over."</p>
<p>Fearing lest the Pharaoh should recall his word, the
Hebrews were getting ready for departure, and soon
their cohorts started, led by a cloud of smoke during
the day and a pillar of fire by night. They took their
way through the sandy wastes that lie between the Nile
and the Sea of Weeds, avoiding the tribes which might
have opposed their passage. One after another, the
Hebrew tribes defiled in front of the copper statue
made by the magicians, which possessed the property
of stopping escaping slaves, but this time the spell,
which had been invincible for centuries, failed to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</SPAN></span>
work; the Lord had destroyed it. The vast multitude
advanced slowly, covering the land with its flocks, its
beasts of burden laden with the riches borrowed from
the Egyptians, dragging the enormous baggage of a
nation which is suddenly migrating. The human eye
could see neither the head nor the tail of the column,
which disappeared on either horizon in a cloud of dust.
If any one had sat down by the roadside to see pass the
whole procession, he would have seen the sun rise and
set more than once. Men came and came and came
always. The sacrifice to the Lord was a vain pretext;
Israel was leaving the land of Egypt forever, and the
mummy of Yusouf, in its painted and gilded case, was
carried along on the shoulders of bearers who were
relieved at regular intervals.</p>
<p>So the Pharaoh became very wroth indeed, and
resolved to pursue the fleeing Hebrews. He ordered
six hundred war chariots to be prepared, called together
his commanders, bound around his body his broad
crocodile-leather belt, filled the two quivers in his car
with arrows and javelins, drew on his wrist his brazen
bracelet which deadens the vibration of the cord, and
started, followed by a nation of soldiers. Furious and
formidable, he urged his horses to their topmost speed,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</SPAN></span>
and behind him the six hundred chariots sounded with
the noise of brass like earthly thunder. The foot-soldiers
hastened on, but they were unable to keep up
with his impetuous speed.</p>
<p>Often the Pharaoh was obliged to stop and await the
rest of his army. During these halts he struck with
his fist the edge of his chariot, stamped with impatience,
and ground his teeth. He bent towards the
horizon, seeking to perceive, behind the sand whirled
by the wind, the fleeing tribes of the Hebrews, and
raged at the thought that every hour increased the interval
which separated them. Had not his officers
held him back, he would have driven straight before
him at the risk of finding himself single-handed against
a whole people.</p>
<p>They were no longer traversing the green valley of
Egypt, but plains varied with many changing hills
and barred with undulations like the surface of the sea;
the framework of the land was visible through the thin
soil. Jagged rocks, broken into all sorts of shapes, as
if giant animals had trampled them under foot when
the earth was still in a condition of mud, on the day
when it emerged from chaos, broke the stretches here
and there, and relieved from time to time by their<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</SPAN></span>
abrupt breaks the flat horizon-line which merged into
that of the sky in a zone of reddish mist. At vast
distances grew palm trees, outspreading their dusty
leaves near some spring, frequently dried up, and in
the mud of which the thirsty horses plunged their
bloodshot nostrils.</p>
<p>But the Pharaoh, insensible to the rain of fire which
fell from the white-hot heavens, at once gave the signal
for departure, and horsemen and footmen started again
on the march. Bodies of oxen or beasts of burden lying
on either side, with spirals of vultures sweeping
around above them, marked the passage of the Hebrews,
and prevented the angry King from losing their
track.</p>
<p>A swift army, practised to marching, goes faster
than a migrating people which drags with it women,
children, old men, baggage, and tents; so the distance
was rapidly diminishing between the Egyptian troops
and the Israelite tribes.</p>
<p>It was near Pi-ha'hiroth that the Egyptians came up
with the Hebrews. The tribes were camped on the
shore, but when the people saw shining in the sun the
golden chariot of the Pharaoh, followed by his war
chariots and his army, they uttered a mighty shout of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</SPAN></span>
terror, and began to curse Mosche, who had led them
to destruction.</p>
<p>In point of fact their situation was desperate: in
front of the Hebrews was the line of battle, behind
them the deep sea. The women rolled on the
ground, tearing their clothes, pulling at their hair,
beating their breasts.</p>
<p>"Why did you not leave us in Egypt? Slavery is
better than death, and you have led us into the desert
to die. Were you afraid that we should not have
sepulchres enough?"</p>
<p>Thus yelled the multitudes, furious with Mosche,
who remained impassible. The bolder took up their
arms and prepared to defend themselves, but the
confusion was frightful, and the war chariots, when
they charged through that compact mass, would
certainly make an awful slaughter.</p>
<p>Mosche stretched out his hand over the sea, after
having called upon the name of the Lord, and then
took place a wonder which no magician could have
repeated; there arose an east wind of startling violence
which blew through the waters of the Sea of Weeds
like the share of a giant plough, throwing to right and
left briny mountains crowned with crests of foam.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</SPAN></span>
Divided by the impetuosity of that irresistible wind,
which would have swept away the pyramids like
grains of dust, the waters rose like liquid walls and
left free between them a broad way which could be
traversed dry shod. Through their translucency, as
behind thick glass, were seen marine monsters twisting
and squirming, terrified at being surprised by daylight
in the mysterious depths of the abyss.</p>
<p>The Hebrew tribes rushed through this miraculous
issue, forming a human torrent that flowed between
two steep banks of green waters. An innumerable
race marked with two millions of black dots the livid
bottom of the gulf, and impressed its feet upon mud
which the belly of the leviathans alone had rayed;
and the terrible wind still blew, passing over the
heads of the Hebrews, whom it would have thrown
to the ground like grain, and keeping back by its
breath the heap of roaring waters.</p>
<p>It was the breath of the Lord which was dividing
the sea.</p>
<p>Terrified at the wonder, the Egyptians hesitated
to pursue the Hebrews, but the Pharaoh, with that
high courage which nothing could daunt, urged on his
horses, which reared and plunged, lashing them in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</SPAN></span>
turn with his terrible thonged whip, his eyes bloodshot,
foaming at the lips, and roaring like a lion
whose prey is escaping. He at last compelled them
to enter that strangely opened road. The six hundred
cars followed. The Israelites of the rear guard,
among whom were Poëri, Ra'hel, and Thamar, believed
themselves lost when they saw the enemy
taking the same road that they had traversed. But
when the Egyptians were fairly within the gulf,
Mosche made a sign, the wheels of the cars fell off,
and there was a horrible confusion of horses and
warriors falling against each other. Then the mountains
of water, miraculously sustained, suddenly fell,
and the sea closed in, whirling in its foam men and
animals and chariots like straw caught by the eddies
in the current of a river.</p>
<p>Alone the Pharaoh, standing within his chariot,
which had come to the surface, shot, drunk with pride
and anger, the last arrows of his quiver against the
Hebrews, who were now reaching the other shore.
Having exhausted his arrows, he took up his javelin,
and although already nearly half engulfed, with his
arm alone above the water, he hurled it, a powerless
weapon, against the unknown God whom he still<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</SPAN></span>
braved from the depths of the abyss. A mighty billow,
which rolled two or three times over the edge
of the sea, engulfed the last remains.</p>
<p>Nothing was left of the glory and of the army of
the Pharaoh.</p>
<p>On the other bank Miriam, the sister of Aharon,
exulted and sang as she played on the timbrel, and
all the women of Israel beat time upon onager-skins.
Two millions of voices were singing the hymn of
deliverance.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter">XVIII</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">ahoser</span> in vain awaited Pharaoh, and then<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</SPAN></span>
reigned over Egypt. Then she also died
after a short time. She was placed in
the magnificent tomb which had been prepared for the
king, whose body was never found; and her story,
written upon papyrus, with the headings of the pages
in red characters, by Kakevou, a scribe of the double
chamber of light and keeper of the books, was placed
by her side under the network of bands.</p>
<p>Was it the Pharaoh or Poëri she regretted? Kakevou
the scribe does not tell us, and Dr. Rumphius,
who translated the hieroglyphs of the Egyptian grammat,
did not venture to settle the question.</p>
<p>As for Lord Evandale, he never married, although
he was the last of his race. His young countrywomen
cannot understand his coldness towards their sex. But
it would never occur to them that Lord Evandale is retrospectively
in love with Tahoser, the daughter of the
high-priest Petamounoph, who died three thousand five
hundred years ago. Yet there are English crazes which
have less sound reason for their existence than this one.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="minispace"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</SPAN></span></div>
<div class="minispace"> </div>
<div class="u"> </div>
<div class="u">
<h2><i>Egypt</i></h2></div>
<div class="nanospace"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</SPAN></span></div>
<div class="microspace"> </div>
<h1 style="margin-bottom: 1em;"><i>EGYPT</i></h1>
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="THE_UNWRAPPING_OF_A_MUMMY" id="THE_UNWRAPPING_OF_A_MUMMY"></SPAN>THE UNWRAPPING OF A MUMMY</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">D</span><span class="upper">uring</span> the Exhibition of 1857, I was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</SPAN></span>
invited to be present at the opening of
one of the mummy cases in the collection
of Egyptian antiquities, and at the
unwrapping of the mummy it contained. My curiosity
was indeed lively. My readers will easily understand
the reason: the scene at which I was to be
present I had imagined and described beforehand in the
"Romance of a Mummy." I do not say this to draw
attention to my book, but to explain the peculiar interest
I took in this archæological and funereal meeting.</p>
<p>When I entered the room, the mummy, already
taken from the case, was laid on a table, its human
shape showing indistinctly through the thickness of the
wrappings. On the faces of the coffin was painted the
Judgment of the Soul, the scene which is usually represented
in such cases. The soul of the dead woman,
led by two funeral genii, the one hostile, the other
favourable, was bowing before Osiris, the great judge<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</SPAN></span>
of the dead, seated on his throne, wearing the pschent,
the conventional beard on the chin, and a whip in his
hand. Farther on, the dead woman's actions, good or
bad, represented by a pot of flowers and a rough piece
of stone, were being weighed in scales. A long line
of judges, with heads of lions, hawks, or jackals, were
awaiting in hieratic attitudes the result of the weighing
before delivering judgment. Below this painting were
inscribed the prayers of the funeral ritual and the confession
of the dead, who did not own to her faults,
but stated, on the contrary, those she had not committed,—"I
have not been guilty of murder, or
of theft, or of adultery," etc. Another inscription
contained the genealogy of the woman, both on
the father's and on the mother's side. I do not transcribe
here the series of strange names, the last of
which is that of Nes Khons, the lady enclosed in the
case, where she believed herself sure of rest while
awaiting the day on which her soul would, after many
trials, be reunited to its well-preserved body, and enjoy
supreme felicity with its own flesh and blood; a
broken hope, for death is as disappointing as life.</p>
<p>The work of unrolling the bandages began; the
outer envelope, of stout linen, was ripped open with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</SPAN></span>
scissors. A faint, delicate odour of balsam, incense,
and other aromatic drugs spread through the room like
the odour of an apothecary's shop. The end of the
bandage was then sought for, and when found, the
mummy was placed upright to allow the operator to
move freely around her and to roll up the endless band,
turned to the yellow colour of écru linen by the palm
wine and other preserving liquids.</p>
<p>Strange indeed was the appearance of the tall rag-doll,
the armature of which was a dead body, moving
so stiffly and awkwardly with a sort of horrible
parody of life, under the hands that were stripping it,
while the bandages rose in heaps around it. Sometimes
the bandages held in place pieces of stuff like
fringed serviettes intended to fill hollows or to support
the shape.</p>
<p>Pieces of linen, cut open in the middle, had been
passed over the head and, fitted to the shoulders, fell
down over the chest. All these obstacles having been
removed, there appeared a sort of veil like coarse India
muslin, of a pinkish colour, the soft tone of which
would have delighted a painter. It appears to me that
the dye must have been anatto, unless the muslin,
originally red, turned rose-colour through the action of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</SPAN></span>
the balsam and of time. Under the veil there was
another series of bandages, of finer linen, which bound
the body more closely with their innumerable folds.
Our curiosity was becoming feverish, and the mummy
was being turned somewhat quickly. A Hoffmann or
an Edgar Poe could have found here a subject for one
of his weird tales. It so happened that a sudden
storm was lashing the windows with heavy drops of
rain that rattled like hail; pale lightnings illumined
on the shelves of the cupboards the old yellowed
skulls and the grimacing death's-heads of the Anthropological
Museum; while the low rolling of the
thunder formed an accompaniment to the waltz of
Nes Khons, the daughter of Horus and Rouaa, as she
pirouetted in the impatient hands of those who were
unwrapping her.</p>
<p>The mummy was visibly growing smaller in size,
and its slender form showed more and more plainly
under its diminishing wrappings. A vast quantity of
linen filled the room, and we could not help wondering
how a box which was scarcely larger than an ordinary
coffin had managed to hold it all. The neck was
the first portion of the body to issue from the bandages;
it was covered with a fairly thick layer of naphtha<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</SPAN></span>
which had to be chiselled away. Suddenly, through
the black remains of the natron, there flashed on the
upper part of the breast a bright gleam of gold, and
soon there was laid bare a thin sheet of metal, cut out
into the shape of the sacred hawk, its wings outspread,
its tail fanlike like that of eagles in heraldry. Upon
this bit of gold—a funeral jewel not rich enough to
tempt body-snatchers—had been written with a reed
and ink a prayer to the gods, protectors of the tombs,
asking that the heart and the visceræ of the dead
should not be removed far from her body. A beautiful
microscopic hawk, which would have made a
lovely watch-charm, was attached by a thread to a
necklace of small plates of blue glass, to which was
hung also a sort of amulet in the shape of a flail, made
of turquoise-blue enamel. Some of the plates had
become semi-opaque, no doubt owing to the heat of
the boiling bitumen which had been poured over them,
and then had slowly cooled.</p>
<p>So far, of course, nothing unusual had been found;
in mummy cases there are often discovered numbers
of these small trifles, and every curiosity shop is full of
similar blue enamelled-ware figures; but we now came
upon an unexpected and touchingly graceful detail.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</SPAN></span>
Under each armpit of the dead woman had been placed
a flower, absolutely colourless, like plants which have
been long pressed between the leaves of a herbarium,
but perfectly preserved, and to which a botanist could
readily have assigned a name. Were they blooms of
the lotus or the persea? No one of us could say.
This find made me thoughtful. Who was it that had
put these poor flowers there, like a supreme farewell,
at the moment when the beloved body was about to
disappear under the first rolls of bandages? Flowers
that are three thousand years old, so frail and yet so
eternal, make a strange impression upon one.</p>
<p>There was also found amid the bandages a small
fruit-berry, the species of which it is difficult to determine.
Perhaps it was a berry of the nepenthe, which
brought oblivion. On a bit of stuff, carefully detached,
was written within a cartouche the name of an
unknown king belonging to a dynasty no less forgotten.
This mummy fills up a vacant place in history and
tells of a new Pharaoh.</p>
<p>The face was still hidden under its mask of linen
and bitumen, which could not be easily detached, for
it had been firmly fixed by an indefinite number of
centuries. Under the pressure of the chisel a portion<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</SPAN></span>
gave way, and two white eyes with great black pupils
shone with fictitious life between brown eyelids. They
were enamelled eyes, such as it was customary to
insert in carefully prepared mummies. The clear,
fixed glance, gazing out of the dead face, produced
a terrifying effect; the body seemed to behold with
disdainful surprise the living beings that moved around
it. The eyebrows showed quite plainly upon the
orbit, hollowed by the sinking of the flesh. The
nose, I must confess,—and in this respect Nes
Khons was less pretty than Tahoser,—had been
turned down to conceal the incision through which
the brain had been drawn from the skull, and a leaf
of gold had been placed on the mouth as the seal
of eternal silence. The hair, exceedingly fine, silky,
and soft, dressed in light curls, did not fall below
the tops of the ears, and was of that auburn tint
so much prized by Venetian women. It looked like
a child's hair dyed with henna, as one sees it in
Algeria. I do not think that this colour was the
natural one; Nes Khons must have been dark like
other Egyptians, and the brown tone was doubtless
produced by the essences and perfumes of the
embalmer.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Little by little the body began to show in its sad
nudity. The reddish skin of the torso, as the air
came in contact with it, assumed a bluish bloom, and
there was visible on the side the cut through which
had been drawn the entrails, and from which escaped,
like the sawdust of a ripped-up doll, the sawdust
of aromatic wood mixed with resin in grains that
looked like colophony. The arms were stretched
out, and the bony hands with their gilded nails imitated
with sepulchral modesty the gesture of the
Venus of Medici. The feet, slightly contracted by
the drying up of the flesh and the muscles, seemed
to have been shapely and small, and the nails were
gilded like those of the hand.</p>
<p>What was she, after all, this Nes Khons, daughter
of Horus and Rouaa, called Lady in her epitaph?
Young or old, beautiful or ugly? It would be difficult
to say. She is now not much more than a skin
covering bones, and it is impossible to discover in
the dry, sharp lines the graceful contours of Egyptian
women, such as we see them depicted in temples,
palaces, and tombs. But is it not a surprising thing,
one that seems to belong to the realm of dreams,
to see on a table, in still appreciable shape, a being<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</SPAN></span>
which walked in the sunshine, which lived and loved
five hundred years before Moses, two thousand years
before Jesus Christ? For that is the age of the
mummy which the caprice of fate drew from its
cartonnage in the midst of the Universal Exposition,
amid all the machinery of our modern civilisation.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="FROM_ALEXANDRIA_TO_CAIRO" id="FROM_ALEXANDRIA_TO_CAIRO"></SPAN>FROM ALEXANDRIA TO CAIRO</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> railway to Cairo runs first along a narrow<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</SPAN></span>
strip of sand which separates the
Baheirehma'adieh, or Lake of Aboukir,
from Lake Mareotis, now filled with salt water. As
you go towards Cairo, Lake Mareotis is on your
right and the Lake of Aboukir on your left. The
former stretches out like a sea between shores so low
that they disappear, and thus make it impossible to
estimate the size of the lake, which melts away into
the sky on the horizon.</p>
<p>The sunlight fell perpendicularly upon its smooth
waters, and made them flash and sparkle until the
eye was weary; in other places, the gray waters lay
stagnant amid the gray sands, or else were of the
dead white of tin. It would have been easy to
believe one's self in the Holland Polders, travelling
along one of the sleepy inland seas. The heavens
were as colourless as Van der Velde's skies, and
the travellers, who, trusting to painters, had dreamed
of a blaze of colour, gazed with amazement upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</SPAN></span>
the vast extent of absolutely flat, grayish toned land,
which in no wise recalled Egypt, at least such as
one imagines it to be. On the side opposite Lake
Mareotis rose, in the midst of luxuriant gardens, the
country homes of the rich merchants of the city, of
the government officials and of the consuls, painted
in bright colours, sky-blue, rose or yellow, picked
out with white, and here and there the great sails
of boats, bound to Foueh or to Rosetta through the
Mahmoudieh Canal, showed above the vegetation
and seemed to be travelling on dry land. This
curious effect, which always causes surprise, is often
met with in the neighbourhood of Leyden, Dordrecht,
and Haarlem, and in swampy countries where the
water lies level with the ground, and sometimes
even, kept in by dikes, is higher than the level
of the country by several yards.</p>
<p>Where the salt water ends, the aspect of the
country changes, not gradually, but suddenly; on the
one hand absolute barrenness, on the other exuberant
vegetation; and wherever irrigation brings a
drop of water, plants spring up, and the sterile dust
becomes fertile soil. The contrast is most striking.
We had passed Lake Mareotis, and on either side<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</SPAN></span>
of the railroad stretched fields of <i>doora</i> or maize, of
cotton plants in various stages of growth, some opening
their pretty yellow flowers, others shedding the
white silk from their pods. Gutters full of muddy
water rayed the black ground with lines that shone
here and there in the light. These were fed by
broader canals connected with the Nile. Small dikes
of earth, easily opened with a blow of a pickaxe,
dammed up the waters until watering-time. The
rough wheels of the sakiehs, turned by buffaloes,
oxen, camels, or asses, raised the water to higher
levels. Sometimes, even, two robust fellahs, perfectly
naked, tawny and shining like Florentine bronzes,
standing on the edge of a canal and balancing like
a swing a basket of waterproof esparto suspended
from two ropes of which they held the ends, skimmed
the surface of the water and dashed it into the neighbouring
field with amazing dexterity. Fellahs in
short blue tunics were ploughing, holding the handle
of a primitive plough drawn by a camel and a humpbacked
Soudanese ox; others gathered cotton and
maize; others dug ditches; others again dragged
branches of trees by way of a harrow over the
furrows which the inundation had scarce left. Every<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</SPAN></span>where
was seen an activity not much in accord with
the traditional Oriental idleness.</p>
<p>The first fellahin villages seen on the right and
left of the road impress one curiously. They are
collections of huts of unbaked brick cemented with
mud, with flat roofs occasionally topped with a sort of
whitewashed turret for pigeons, the sloping walls of
which faintly recall the outline of a truncated Egyptian
pylon. A door as low as that of a tomb, and two or
three holes pierced in the wall are the only openings in
these huts, which look more like the work of termites
than that of men. Often half the village—if such a
name can be given to these earthen huts—has been
washed away by the rains or sapped by the flood; but
no great harm is done; with a few handfuls of mud
the house is soon rebuilt, and five or six days of sunshine
suffice to make it inhabitable.</p>
<p>This description, scrupulously exact, does not give
a very attractive idea of a fellahin village; but plant by
the side of these cubes of gray earth a clump of date
palms, have a camel or two kneel down in front of the
doors, which look like the mouths of warrens, let a
woman come out from one of them draped in her long
blue gown, holding a child by the hand and bearing a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</SPAN></span>
jar of water on her head, light it all up with sunlight,
and you have a charming and characteristic picture.</p>
<p>The thing which strikes the most inattentive traveller
as soon as he steps into this Lower Egypt, where from
time immemorial the Nile has been accumulating its
mud in thin layers, is the close intimacy of the fellah
and the earth. Autochthone is the name that best fits
him; he springs from the clay which he treads, he is
made out of it, and scarce has emerged from it. He
manipulates it, presses it as a child presses its nurse's
breast, to draw from its brown bosom the milk of
fertility. He sinks waist-deep into its fertile mud,
drains it, waters it, dries it, according to its needs; cuts
canals in it, builds up levees upon it, draws from it the
clay with which he constructs his family dwelling and
with which he will cement his tomb. Never was a
respectful son more careful of his old mother; he does
not leave her as do those vagabond children who forsake
their natal roof in search of adventures. He remains
there, always attentive to the least want of his antique
ancestor, the black earth of Kamé. If she thirsts, he
gives her drink, if she is troubled by too much humidity,
he dries it; in order not to wound her, he works
her almost without tools, with his hands; his plough<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</SPAN></span>
merely scratches the telluric skin, which the inundation
covers each year with a new epidermis. As you watch
him going and coming upon that soaking ground, you
feel that he is in his element. In his blue garment,
which resembles a pontiff's robe, he presides over the
marriage of earth and water, he unites the two principles
which, warmed by the sun, give birth to life.
Nowhere is this harmony between man and the soil so
visible; nowhere does the earth play so important a
part. It imparts its colour to everything. The houses
have the earth tint; the bronze complexion of the
fellahs recalls it; the trees covered with fine dust, the
waters laden with mud, conform to that fundamental
harmony; the animals themselves wear its livery;
the dun-coloured camel, the gray ass, the slate-blue
buffalo, the ash-coloured pigeon, and the reddish birds
all fit in with the general tone.</p>
<p>Another thing which surprises one is the animation
visible throughout the country. On the levees along
the canals and on those which traverse the inundated
portions, there moves a mob of passers-by and of
travellers. There is no road so frequented in France,
even in the neighbourhood of a populous city. Eastern
people do not remain much in their houses, and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</SPAN></span>
smallest pretext is sufficient for them to set forth,
especially as they have not to think, as we have, of the
weather; the barometer is always at set fair, and rain
is so uncommonly rare that a man would be glad to
get a soaking.</p>
<p>There is nothing more enjoyable, more varied and
instructive than the procession of people who are going
about their business and who show in succession
in the opening of the carriage window, as in a frame
in which engravings or water-colours are constantly
changing.</p>
<p>First, camels ambling along with a resigned and
melancholy look, swinging their long necks, curious
animals whose awkward shapes recall the attempts of a
vanished creation. On the hump of the foremost is
perched the turbaned driver, as majestic as Eleazar, the
servant of Abraham, going to Mesopotamia to seek a
wife for Isaac; he yields with lazy suppleness to the
rough, but regular motions of the animal; sometimes
smoking his chibouque as if he were seated at the door
of a café, or pressing the slow pace of his steed.
Camels like to go in single file; they are accustomed
to it, and five or six are usually tied together, sometimes
even more; and thus the caravan travels along,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</SPAN></span>
showing quaint against the flat lines of the horizon, and
for want of any object of comparison, apparently of
vast size. On either side of the line trot three or four
swift-footed lads, armed with wands; for in the East
beasts of burden never lack hostlers and whippers-in.
Some of the camels are reddish, others sorrel, others
brown, some even are white, but dun is the most
frequent colour. They carry stones, wood, grass
bound with esparto cords, bundles of sugar-cane, boxes,
furniture,—in fact, whatever in our country would be
loaded on carts. Just now we might have thought
ourselves in Holland as we passed along those gray
stretches of submerged ground, but the illusion is soon
dispelled; as the camel swings along the canal bank,
you feel that you are approaching Cairo, and not
Amsterdam.</p>
<p>Next come horsemen, bestriding thin, but spirited
horses; droves of small donkeys, their masters perched
on their cruppers, almost on their tails, their legs almost
touching the ground, ready to be used in case the
tricky animal falls or jibs, or even indulges, as it often
does, in a roll in the dust of the road. In the East
the ass is neither contemned nor considered ridiculous
as it is in France; it has preserved its Homeric and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</SPAN></span>
biblical nobility, and every one bestrides it without
hesitation, the rich and the poor, the old and the
young, women as well as men.</p>
<p>Now along the canal comes a charming group: a
young woman robed in a long blue mantle, the folds
of which fall chastely around her, is seated upon an ass
which a man, still vigorous but whose beard is already
streaked with gray and white hairs, leads carefully.
In front of the mother, who supports it with one hand,
is a naked child, exquisitely beautiful, happy and delighted
at his trip. It is a picture of the Flight into
Egypt; the figures lack nothing but a fine golden
halo around their heads. The Virgin, the Child Jesus,
and Saint Joseph must have looked like that, and so
must their flight have been in the living and simple
reality; their equipage was not much finer. What a
pity that some great painter, Perugino, Raphael, or
Albert Dürer, does not happen to be here.</p>
<p>Damanhûr, which the railroad traverses, looks very
much as must have looked the ancient cities of Egypt,
now buried under the sand or fallen into dust. It is
surrounded by sloping walls built of unbaked bricks or
of pisé which preserves its earthy colour. The flat-roofed
houses rise one above another like a collection<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</SPAN></span>
of cubes dotted with little black holes. A few dovecotes,
the cupolas of which are whitewashed, and one
or two minarets striped with red and white, alone impart
to the antique appearance of that city the modern
aspect of Islamism. On the top of the terraces
women, squatting on mats or standing in their long
robes of brilliant colours, are looking at us, no doubt
attracted by the passing of the train. As they show
against the sky, they are wondrously elegant and
graceful. They look like statues erected on the top
of buildings or the front of temples.</p>
<p>The moment the train stopped, it was invaded by a
band of women and children, offering fresh water,
bitter oranges, and honey confections to the travellers;
and it was delightful to see these brown faces showing
at the carriage window their bright smile and their
white teeth. I should have liked to remain some
time in Damanhûr, but travel, like life, is made up
of sacrifices. How many delightful things one is
compelled to leave by the roadside, if one wishes to
reach the end. A man cannot see everything, and
must be satisfied with seeing a few things. So I had
to leave Damanhûr and to behold that dream from
afar without being able to traverse it. As far as I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</SPAN></span>
could see, even through my glass, the land reached to
the horizon line, intersected by canals, broken by gutters,
shimmering with pools of water, with scattered
clumps of sycamore trees and date palms, with long
strips of cultivated ground, water-wheels rising here
and there, and enlivened by the incessant coming and
going of the labourers who followed, on the backs of
camels, horses, or asses, or on foot, the narrow road
bordering the levees. At intervals there arose, under
the shade of a mimosa, the white cupola of a tomb;
sometimes a nude child stood motionless on the edge
of the water in the attitude of unconscious reverie, not
even turning his head to see the train fly along. This
deep gravity in childhood is peculiar to the East.
What could that boy, standing on his lump of earth
as a Stylites on his pillar, be thinking of? From time
to time flocks of pigeons, busy feeding, flew off with a
sudden whir as the train passed by, and alighted farther
away on the plain; aquatic birds swam swiftly through
the reeds that outstretched behind them, pretty wagtails
hopped about, wagging their tails, on the crest of
the levees; and in the heavens at a vast height, soared
hawks, falcons, and gerfalcons, sweeping in great circles.
Buffaloes wallowed in the mud of the ditches,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</SPAN></span>
and flocks of black sheep with hanging ears, very like
goats, were hurrying along driven by the shepherds.
The antique simplicity of the costume of the young
herdsmen, with their short tunics, white or blue, faded
by the sun, their bare legs, their dusty, naked feet,
their felt caps, their crooks, recalled the patriarchal
scenes of the Bible.</p>
<p>At the next station we stopped, and I got out to have
a look at the landscape. I had scarcely gone a few
steps when a wondrous sight met my astonished eyes:
before me was the Nile, old Hapi, to give it its ancient
Egyptian name, the inexhaustible Father of Waters.
Through one of those involuntary plastic impressions
which act upon the imagination, the Nile called up to
my mind the colossal marble god in one of the lower
halls of the Louvre, carelessly leaning on his elbow
and, with paternal kindliness, allowing himself to be
climbed over by the little children which represent
cubits, and the various phases of the inundation. Well,
it was not under this mythological aspect that the great
river appeared to me for the first time. It was flowing
in flood, spreading out broadly like a torrent of
reddish mud which scarcely looked like water as it
swelled and rushed by irresistibly. It looked like a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</SPAN></span>
river of soil; scarcely did the reflection of the sky
imprint here and there upon the gloomy surface of its
tumultuous waves a few light touches of azure. It
was still almost at the height of its rise, but the flood
had the tranquil power of a regular phenomenon, and
not the convulsive disorder of a scourge. The majesty
of that vast sheet of water laden with fertilising
mud produces an almost religious impression. How
many vanished civilisations have been reflected for a
time in that ever-flowing wave! I remained absorbed
as I gazed at it, sunk in thought, and feeling that
strange sinking of the heart which one experiences
after desire has been fulfilled, and reality has taken the
place of the dream. What I was looking at was indeed
the Nile, the real Nile, the river which I had so
often endeavoured to discover by intuition. A sort of
stupor nailed me to the bank, and yet it was a very
natural thing that I should come across the Nile in
Egypt in the very centre of the Delta. But man is
subject to such artless astonishment.</p>
<p>Dhahabîyehs and felûkas spreading their great lateen
sails were tacking across the river, passing from one
shore to the other, and recalling the shape of the mystic
baris of the times of the Pharaohs.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>We set out again. The aspect of the country was
still the same; fields of cotton, maize, doora, stretched
as far as the eye could reach. Here and there glimmered
the portions of the ground covered by the flood.
Slate-blue buffaloes wallowed in the pools and emerged
covered with mud; water birds stood along the edges,
and sometimes flew off as the train passed, watched
by families of fellahs, squatting on the banks of the
ditches. Along the road travelled the endless procession
of camels, asses, oxen, black goats, and foot-passengers,
which enlivened to such an extent that
peaceful, flat landscape. I had already noticed when
in Holland the additional importance given to figures
by a flat country; the lack of hills makes them stand
out, and as they usually show against the sky they loom
larger. I seemed to see pass by the zones of painted
<i>bassi-relievi</i> representing agricultural scenes which occasionally
formed part of the decoration of the halls of
Egyptian tombs. Here and there rose villages or
farms, the lines of whose sloping, earth-gray walls
recalled the substructures of antique temples. Groups
of sycamore and mimosa trees, set off by clumps
of date palms, brought out the soft tones of the
walls by the contrast of their rich verdure. Elsewhere<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</SPAN></span>
I caught sight of fellahin huts surmounted by whitewashed
dovecotes, placed side by side like beehives
or the minarets of a mosque. We soon reached
Tantah, a somewhat important town, to which the fine
mosque of Seyd Ahmed Badouy attracts pilgrims twice
a year, and the fairs of which are frequented by the
caravans.</p>
<p>Tantah, from the railway station,—for the train
does not stop long enough to allow travellers to visit
the town,—has an animated and picturesque aspect.
Amid the houses in the Arab style with their look-outs
and their awnings, rise buildings in that Oriental-Italian
style dear to persons of progress and of modern
ideas, painted in soft colours, ochre, salmon, or sky-blue;
flat-roofed clay huts; over all, the minarets of
the mosque, the white cupolas of a few tombs, and the
inevitable fig trees and palms rising above the low
garden walls. Between the town and the station
stretches waste ground, a sort of fair-ground, on which
are camps, huts of reed or of date-palm branches,
tents formed of old rags of cloth and sometimes of the
linen of an unrolled turban. The inhabitants of these
frail dwellings cook in the open air. The coffee is
made, a cup at a time, in a small brass kettle, and on<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</SPAN></span>
plates of tin are cooked the thin doora cakes. The
fuel is camel's-dung. The fellahs suck eagerly the
sweetish juice of the sugar-cane cut into short pieces,
and the slices of watermelon show within the green
skin their ripe, rosy, flesh, spotted with black seeds.
Women, as graceful as statues, come and go, holding
the end of their veil between their teeth so as to conceal
one half of the face, and bearing on their heads
Theban jars or copper vases; while the men, squatting
on the ground or on small carpets, their knees up to
their chins, forming an acute angle like the legs of
locusts, in an attitude which no European could assume,
and recalling the judges of Amenti ranged in rows one
behind another on the papyri of funeral rituals, preserve
that dreamy immobility so dear to Orientals
when they have nothing to do; for to move about
merely for exercise, as Christians do, strikes them as
utter folly.</p>
<p>Dromedaries, alone or grouped in circles, kneeling
under their burdens, stretch out their long legs on the
sand, motionless in the burning sun. Asses, some of
which are daintily harnessed, with saddles of red
morocco rising in a boss on the withers, and with
headstalls adorned with tufts, and others with an old<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</SPAN></span>
carpet for a saddle-cloth, were waiting for the travellers
who were to stop at Tantah to bear them from the
station to the town. The donkey drivers, clothed in
short blue and white tunics, bare-armed and bare-legged,
their heads covered with a fez, a wand in their
hand, and resembling the slender figures of shepherds
or youths which are so exquisitely drawn on the bodies
of Greek vases, stood near their animals in an indolent
attitude, which they abandoned as soon as a chance
customer came their way. Then they indulged in mad
gesticulations, guttural cries, and fought with each
other until the unfortunate tourist ran the risk of being
torn to pieces or stripped of the best part of his garments.
Tawny, wandering dogs with jackal ears, fallen
indeed from their old position, and forgetting apparently
that they counted Anubis, the dog-headed <i>Anubis latrator</i>,
among their ancestors, passed in and out among the
groups, but without taking the least interest in what
was going on.</p>
<p>The bonds which in Europe unite the dog to
man do not exist in the East; its social instinct has
not been developed, its sympathies have not been
appealed to; it has no master, and lives in a savage
state. No services are asked of it, and it is not cared<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</SPAN></span>
for; it has no home and dwells in holes which it
makes, unless it stays in some open tomb; no one
feeds it; it hunts for itself, gorging on dead bodies and
unnamable débris. There is a proverb which says that
wolves do not eat each other; Eastern dogs are less
scrupulous; they readily devour their sick, wounded, or
dead companions. It seemed strange to me to see dogs
which did not make any advances to me, and did not
seek to be caressed, but maintained a proud and melancholy
reserve.</p>
<p>Little girls in blue gowns and little negroes in white
tunics came up to the carriages, offering pastry, cakes,
bitter oranges, lemons, and apples,—yes, apples.
Eastern people seem to be very fond of that acid
Northern fruit which, along with wretched, granulous
pears, forms part of every dessert, at which of course
one never gets either pomegranates, or bananas, or
dates, or oranges, or purple figs, or any native fruits,
which are no doubt left to the common people.</p>
<p>The whistle of the engine sounded, and we were
again carried away through that very humid and very
green Delta. However, as we advanced there showed
on the horizon lines of rosy land from which vegetable
life was wholly absent. The sand of the desert<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</SPAN></span>
advances with its waves, as sterile as those of the sea,
eternally disturbed by the winds and beating upon the
islet of cultivated earth surrounded and stormed by
dusty foam, as upon a reef which it endeavours to
cover up. In Egypt, whatever lies above the level of
the flood is smitten with death. There is no transition;
where stops Osiris, Typhon begins; here luxuriant
vegetation, there not a blade of grass, not a bit of
moss, not a single one of the adventurous plants which
grow in solitary and lonely places,—nothing but
ground-up sandstone without any mixture of loam.
But if a drop of Nile water falls upon it, straightway
the barren sand is covered with verdure. These strips
of pale salmon-colour form a pleasant contrast with
the rich tints of the great plain of verdure spread out
before us.</p>
<p>Soon we came upon another arm of the Nile, the
Phatnitic branch, which flows into the sea near Damietta.
It is crossed by the railway, and on the other
side lie the ruins of ancient Athrebys, over which has
been built a fellahin village. The train sped along,
and soon on the right, above the line of green, turning
almost black in the dazzling light, showed in the azure
distance the triangular silhouette of the pyramids of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</SPAN></span>
Cheops and Chephren, appearing, from where I first
beheld them, like a single mountain with a piece taken
out of the summit. The marvellous clearness of the
atmosphere made them appear nearer, and had I not
been aware of the real distance I should have found it
difficult to estimate it correctly. It is quite natural to
catch sight of the pyramids as one approaches Cairo;
it is to be expected and it is expected, yet the sight
causes extraordinary emotion and surprise. It is impossible
to describe the effect produced by that vaporous
outline so faint that it almost melts into the
colour of the sky, and that, if one had not been
forewarned, it might escape notice. Neither years
nor barbarians have been able to overthrow these
artificial mountains, the most gigantic monuments,
except, perhaps, the Tower of Babel, ever raised by
man. For five thousand years they have been standing
there,—almost as old as the world, according to
the biblical account. Even our own civilisation, with
its powerful methods of destruction, could scarcely
manage to tear them down. The pyramids have seen
ages and dynasties flow by like billows of sand, and the
colossal Sphinx with its noseless face ever smiles at their
feet with its ironical and mysterious smile. Even after<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</SPAN></span>
they were opened they kept their secret, and yielded
up but the bones of oxen by the side of an empty
sarcophagus. Eyes that have been closed so long that
Europe, perchance, had not emerged from the flood
when those eyes beheld the light, gazed upon them
from where I am; they are contemporaneous with
vanished empires, with strange races of men since swept
from the surface of the earth; they have beheld civilisations
that we know nothing of; heard spoken the
tongues which men seek to make out in hieroglyphics,
known manners which would appear to us as strange
as a dream. They have been there so long that the
stars have changed their places, and they belong to
a past so prodigiously fabulous that behind them
the dawn of the world seems to shine.</p>
<p>While these thoughts flashed through my mind
we were rapidly approaching Cairo,—Cairo, of which
I had talked so often with poor Gérard de Nerval,
with Gustave Flaubert, and Maxime Du Camp, whose
tales had excited my curiosity to the highest pitch.
In the case of cities which one has desired to see
from childhood, and which one has long inhabited
in dreams, one is apt to conceive a fantastic notion
which it is very difficult to efface, even in presence of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</SPAN></span>
reality. The sight of an engraving, of a picture, often
forms a starting-point. My Cairo, built out of the
materials of the "Thousand and One Nights," centred
around the Ezbekîyeh Place, the strange painting
of which Marilhat had sent from Egypt to one of the
first exhibitions which followed the Revolution of July.
Unless I am mistaken, it was his first picture, and
whatever the perfection which he afterwards attained,
I do not believe that he ever painted a work fuller of
life, more individual, and more striking. It made a
deep and curious impression upon me; I went time
and again to see it; I could not take my eyes off it,
and it exercised upon me a sort of nostalgic fascination.
It was from that painting that my dreams started upon
fantastic trips through the narrow streets of ancient
Cairo once traversed by Caliph Haroun al Raschid
and his faithful vizier Jaffier, under the disguise of
slaves or common people. My admiration for the
painting was so well known that Marilhat's family
gave me, after the death of the famous artist, the
pencil sketch of the subject made on the spot, and
which he had used as a study for the finished work.</p>
<p>And now we had arrived. A great mob of carriages,
asses, donkey drivers, porters, guides, drago<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</SPAN></span>mans,
rioted in front of the railway station, which
is at Boulah, a short distance from old Cairo. When
we had recovered our luggage, and I had been installed
with my friend in a handsome open carriage preceded
by a <i>saïs</i>, it was with secret delight that I heard the
Egyptian providence which watched over us in its
<i>Nizam</i> uniform and its magenta fez, call out to the
coachman, "Hotel Shepheard, Ezbekîyeh Place." I
was going to lodge in my dream.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="EZBEKIYEH_SQUARE" id="EZBEKIYEH_SQUARE"></SPAN>EZBEKÎYEH SQUARE</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> <span class="upper">few</span> minutes later the carriage stopped before<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</SPAN></span>
the steps of the Hotel Shepheard, which
has a sort of veranda provided with chairs
and sofas for the convenience of travellers who desire
to enjoy the cool air. We were received cordially,
and given a fine room, very high-ceiled, with two beds
provided with mosquito-nets, and a window looking out
upon the Ezbekîyeh Square.</p>
<p>I did not expect to find Marilhat's painting before
me, unchanged, and merely enlarged to the proportions
of reality. The accounts of tourists who had recently
returned from Egypt had made me aware that the
Ezbekîyeh no longer looked the same as formerly, when
the waters of the Nile turned it into a lake in times of
flood, and when it still preserved its true Arab character.</p>
<p>Huge mimosas and sycamores fill up the centre of
the square with domes of foliage so intensely green
that it looks almost black. On the left rises a row of
houses, among which are to be seen, side by side with
the newer buildings, old Arab dwellings more or less
modernised. A great number of moucharabiehs had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</SPAN></span>
disappeared. There remains a sufficient number of
them, however, to preserve the Oriental character of
this side of the square.</p>
<p>Above the trees on the other side of the square,
higher than the line of the roofs, are seen four or five
minarets, the shafts of which, built in courses alternately
blue and red, stand out against the azure sky.
On the right the scarps of Mokattam, of a rosy
gray, show their bare sides, on which no vegetation
is apparent. The trees of the square conceal the
newer buildings, and thus my dream was not too
much upset.</p>
<p>Being an invalid, I had to be somewhat careful,
and required two or three days of complete rest. If
the reader is fond of travel, he will understand how
great was my desire to begin exploring that labyrinth
of picturesque streets in which swarms a vari-coloured
crowd, but it was out of the question for the time
being. I thought that Cairo, more complaisant in
this respect than the mountain to the prophet, would
come to me if I could not go to it, and as a matter
of fact, Cairo was polite enough to do so.</p>
<p>While my luckier companions started to visit the
city, I settled myself on the veranda. It was the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</SPAN></span>
best place I could have chosen, for even leaving out
the people on the Square, the veranda roof sheltered
many curious characters. There were dragomans,
most of them Greeks or Copts, wearing the fez and
a short, braided jacket and full trousers; cavasses
richly costumed in oriental fashion, scimetar on the
hip, <i>kandjar</i> in the belt, and silver-topped cane in the
hand; native servants in white drawers and blue or
pink gowns; little negroes, bare-armed and bare-legged,
dressed in short tunics striped with brilliant
colours; dealers selling kuffîyehs, gandouras, and
oriental stuffs manufactured in Lyons, photographic
views of Egypt and of Cairo, or pictures of national
types,—to say nothing of the travellers themselves,
who, having come from all parts of the world, certainly
deserved to be looked at.</p>
<p>Opposite the hotel, on the other side of the road,
stood in the shade of the mimosas the carriages placed
at the disposal of the invited guests by the splendid
hospitality of the Khedive. An inspector, blind in
one eye, with a turban rolled around his head and
wearing a long blue caftan, called them up and gave
the drivers the orders of the travellers. There also
stood the battalion of donkey drivers with their long<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</SPAN></span>-eared
steeds. I am told that there are no less than
eighty thousand donkeys in Cairo. That number does
not seem to be exaggerated. There are donkeys at
every corner, around every mosque, and in the most
deserted places there suddenly appear from behind a
wall a donkey driver and a donkey that place themselves
at your service. These asses are very pretty,
spirited, and bright-tempered; they have not the piteous
look and the air of melancholy resignation of
the asses of our own country, which are ill fed, beaten,
and contemned. You feel that they think as much
of themselves as other animals do, and that they are
not the whole day long a butt for stupid jokes. Perhaps
they are aware that Homer compared Ajax to
an ass, a comparison which is ridiculous in the West;
and they also remember that one of their ancestors
bore Miriam, the Virgin Mother of Issa, under the
sycamore of Matarieh. Their coat varies from dark-brown
to white, through all the shades of dun and
gray. Some have white stars and fetlocks. The
handsomest are clipped with ingenious coquetry so as
to make around the legs patterns which make them
look as if they were wearing open-worked stockings.
When they are white, the end of the tail and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</SPAN></span>
the mane are dyed with henna. Of course this is
only in the case of thorough-bred animals, of the
aristocracy of the asinine race, and is not indulged in
with the common herd.</p>
<p>Their harness consists of a headstall adorned with
tresses, tufts of silk and wool, sometimes coral beads
or copper plates, and of a morocco saddle, usually
red, rising up in front to prevent falls, but without any
cantle. The saddle is placed upon a piece of carpet
or striped stuff, and is fastened by a broad girth which
passes diagonally under the animal's tail like a crupper-strap;
another girth fastens the saddle-cloth, and two
short stirrups flap against the animal's sides. The
harness is more or less rich according to the means
of the donkey driver and the rank of his customers,
but I am speaking merely of asses which stand for
hire. No one in Cairo considers it undignified to
ride an ass,—old men, grown men, dignitaries, townspeople,
all use them. Women ride astride, a fashion
which in no wise compromises their modesty, thanks
to the enormous folds of their broad trousers which
almost completely conceal their feet. They often
carry before them, placed upon the saddle-bow, a
small, half-nude, child which they steady with one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</SPAN></span>
hand while with the other they hold the bridle. It is
usually women of importance who indulge in this
luxury, for the poor fellahin women have no other
means of locomotion than their little feet. These
beauties, as we may suppose them to be, since they
are masked more closely than society ladies at the
Opera ball, wear over their garments a <i>habbarah</i>, a
sort of black taffeta sack, which fills with air and
swells in the most ungraceful fashion if the animal's
pace is quickened.</p>
<p>In the East a rider, whether on horseback or on an
ass, is always accompanied by two or three footmen.
One runs on ahead with a wand in his hand to clear
the way, the second holds the animal's bridle, and the
third hangs on by its tail, or at least puts his hand on
the crupper. Sometimes there is a fourth who flits
about and stirs up the animal with a switch. Every
minute Decamp's "Turkish Patrol," that startling
painting which made such a sensation in the Exhibition
of 1831, passed before me, amid a cloud of dust, and
made me smile; but no one appeared to notice the
comicality of the situation: a stout man dressed in
white with a broad belt around his waist, perched on a
little ass and followed by three or four poor devils,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</SPAN></span>
thin and tanned, with hungry mien, who through
excess of zeal and in hope of backshish, seem to carry
along the rider and his steed.</p>
<p>I must be forgiven all this information about the
asses and their drivers, but these occupy so large a
space in life at Cairo that they are entitled to the
importance which they really possess.</p>
<hr />
<h2 class="chapter"><SPAN name="ANCIENT_EGYPT" id="ANCIENT_EGYPT"></SPAN>ANCIENT EGYPT</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="upper">he</span> solemn title must not terrify the reader.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</SPAN></span>
M. Ernest Feydeau's book is, in spite of
its title, most attractive reading. In his
case science does not mean weariness, as happens too
often. The author of "Funeral Customs and Sepulture
among the Ancient Nations" desired to be understood
of all, and everybody may profit by his long and
careful researches. He has not sealed his work with
seven seals, as if it were an apocalyptic volume, to be
understood by adepts only; he has sought clearness,
distinctness, colour, and he has given to archæology
the plastic form which it almost always lacks. What
is the use of heaping together materials in disorder,
stones which are not made to form part of a building,
colours which are not turned into pictures? What
does the public, for whom, after all, books are meant,
get out of so many obscure works, cryptic dissertations,
deep researches, with which learned authors seem to
mask entrances, as the ancient Egyptians—the comparison
is a proper one here—masked the entrances
to their tombs and their mummy pits so that no one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</SPAN></span>
might penetrate into them? What is the use of carving
in darkness endless panels of hieroglyphs which no
eye is to behold and the key to which one keeps for
one's self? M. Ernest Feydeau is bold enough to desire
to be an artist as well as a scholar; for picturesqueness
in no wise detracts from accuracy, though erudites generally
affect to believe the contrary. Did not Augustin
Thierry draw his intensely living, animated, dramatic,
and yet thoroughly true "Stories of the Merovingian
Times" from the colourless, diffuse, ill-composed history
of Gregory of Tours? Did not Sauval's unreadable
work become "Notre-Dame de Paris" in Victor
Hugo's hands? Did not Walter Scott, by his novels,
Shakespeare by his dramas, render the greatest services
to history by giving life to dead chronicles, by putting
into flesh and blood heroes on whom forgetfulness had
scattered its dust in the solitude of libraries? Does
any one suppose that the chroniclers of the future will
not consult Balzac to advantage, and look upon his
work as a precious mine of documents? How great
would be the interest excited by a similar account,
domestic, intimate and familiar, by a Greek or a
Roman author? We can have some idea of this from
the fragments of Petronius and the Tales of Apuleius,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</SPAN></span>
which tell us more about life in the days of antiquity
than the gravest writers, who often forget men while
dwelling upon facts.</p>
<p>In an essay on the history of manners and customs
which forms the introduction to his book, M. Ernest
Feydeau has discussed this question of colour applied
to science with much spirit, logic, and eloquence. He
proves that it is possible, without falling into novel
writing, without indulging in imaginativeness, and
while preserving the gravity and the authority of history,
to group around facts, by the intelligent reading
of texts, by the study and the comparison of the monuments,
the manners, the customs, the books of vanished
races, to show man at a particular time, to put as a
background to each event the landscape, the city, or
the interior in which it occurred, and in the conqueror's
hand the weapon which he really carried. Ideas have
forms, events take place amid certain surroundings,
individuals wear costumes which archæology, properly
understood, can restore to them. That is its proper
task. History draws the outline with a graver, archæology
must fill it in with colour. Understood in this
way, history makes the past present. The innovating
archæologist, by an apparently paradoxical inspiration,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</SPAN></span>
has asked of death the secret of life; he has studied
the tomb, which has yielded up to him not only the
mysteries of destruction, but the customs and the
national life of all the nations of antiquity. The
sepulchre has faithfully preserved what the memory of
man has forgotten and what has been lost in scattered
libraries. The tomb alone, opening its sombre lips,
has replied to the questions of to-day; it knows what
historians do not know; it is impartial, and has no
interest in lying, apart from the innocent imposture of
the epitaph. Each generation, as it sinks forever
under the ground, after having lived and moved for a
few moments on its surface, inscribes upon the walls
of its funeral dwelling the true expression of its acts,
its beliefs, its customs, its arts, its luxuries, its individuality,
all that was seen then and that shall never again
be seen, and then the hand of man rolls boulders, the
desert heaps up sand, the waters of the stream deposit
mud upon the forgotten entrance to the necropolis.
The pits are filled up, the subterranean passages are
effaced, the tombs sink and disappear under the dust of
empires. A thousand, two thousand, three thousand,
four thousand years pass by, and a lucky stroke of the
pick reveals a whole nation within a coffin.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The ancients, differing in this respect from the
moderns, spent their life in preparing their last dwelling.
The history of their funerals contains, therefore,
the germ of their whole history. But that history, full
of intimate details, mysterious facts, and documents at
times enigmatical, is not to be written like the other
form of history which men are satisfied to repeat from
age to age. It is amazing how many years the
author had to spend in study and research in order to
write his book, to bring together his materials, to
analyse and to compare them.</p>
<p>After having clearly defined what he means by
archæology, the author enters upon his subject.
Going back to the beginnings of the world, he depicts
the amazement and the grief of man when for the
first time he saw his fellow-man die. The entrance
on earth of that unknown and terrible power which
has since been called death is solemn and tragical.
The body is lying there motionless and cold amid
its brethren, who are amazed at the sleep which they
cannot break, at the livid pallor and the stiffness of
the limbs. Horror succeeds surprise when the signs
of decomposition become visible. The body is concealed
under leaves, under stones heaped up within<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</SPAN></span>
caverns, and each one wonders with terror whether
that death is an exceptional case, or whether the same
fate awaits every one in a more or less distant future.
Deaths become more numerous as the primitive family
grows older, and at last the conviction comes that it is
an inevitable fate. The remembrance of the ancestors,
the apparition of their ghosts in the wonders of
dreams, the anxiety as to the fate of the soul after
the destruction of the body, give rise, along with the
presentiment of another life, to the first idea of God.
Death teaches eternity and proves irrefragably the
existence of a power superior to that of man. The
belief in metempsychosis, in the migration of the soul,
in other spheres, in reward and punishment according
to the works done by men in the flesh, arose among
nations in accordance with the degree of civilisation
which they had attained. Among the least civilised
these doctrines exist in a state of confusion, remain
vague, uncouth, surcharged with superstition and
peculiarities. Nevertheless, everywhere the mystery
of the tomb is venerated.</p>
<p>It may be affirmed that no nation was so preoccupied
with death as ancient Egypt. It is a strange
sight to behold that people preparing its tomb from<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</SPAN></span>
childhood, refusing to yield up its dust to the elements,
and struggling against destruction with invincible
obstinacy. Just as the layers of Nile mud have
overlaid one another since the birth of time, the
generations of Egypt are ranged in order at the
bottom of the mummy pits of the hypogea and
the pyramids of the necropolis, their bodies intact—for
the worm of the tomb dare not attack them,
repelled as it is by the bitter bituminous odours. But
for the sacrilegious devastations of man, that dead
people would be found complete, and its numberless
multitudes might cover the earth. Imagination is
staggered when it attempts to calculate the probable
numbers; if Egyptian civilisation had lasted ten centuries
longer, the dead would have ended by expelling
the living from their native land. The necropolis
would have invaded the city, and the stark mummies
in their bandages would have stood up by the wall
of the hearth.</p>
<p>You cannot have forgotten the marvellous chapter
on "A Bird's-eye view of Paris," an amazing restoration
by a poet, in which archæology itself, in
spite of the progress it has made, would find it difficult
to discover a flaw. Well, what Victor Hugo<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</SPAN></span>
has done for mediæval Paris, M. Ernest Feydeau has
attempted for the Thebes of the Pharaohs, and his
restoration, as complete as it is possible for it to
be, and which no historian had attempted, stands out
before us as sharply as a plan in relief, and with
all the perspective of a panorama. Thebes of the
Hundred Gates, as Homer called it,—antiquity has
told us nothing more about this ancestress of capitals;
but M. Ernest Feydeau takes us walking with
him through the city of Rameses; he shows us all
its monuments, its temples, its palaces, the dwellings
of the inhabitants, the gardens, the harbour, the fleet
of vessels; he draws and colours the costumes of
the people; he enters the harems, and shows us
the travelling musicians, the dancers, the enslaved
nations which built for the Egyptians, the soldiers
manœuvring on the parade ground, the processions
of Ammon, the foreign peoples which come seeking
refuge and corn, the caravans of thirty-five hundred
years ago bringing in the tribute. Then he describes
the colleges of priests, the quarters inhabited by the
embalmers, the minutest details of the embalming
processes, the funeral rites, the construction of the
thousands of hypogea and mummy pits which are<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</SPAN></span>
to receive the mummies. Finally he shows us, passing
through the streets of that strange city, the funeral
procession of a royal scribe upon its catafalque, drawn
by oxen,—the numberless mourners, the hosts of servants
bearing alms and offerings. I regret that the
length of that passage does not allow of my quoting
it in full and enabling the reader to mark the union
of a beautiful style with scientific knowledge. Unquestionably
no modern traveller has ever given a
more picturesque description of any existing city,
Constantinople, Rome, or Cairo. The artist seems
to be seated upon the terrace of a palace, drawing
and painting from nature as if he were a contemporary
of Rameses, and as if the sands had not
covered with their shroud, through which show a
few gigantic ruins, the city forever vanished. And
yet he indulges in no chance supposition, in no rash
padding. Every detail he gives is supported by the
most authentic documents. M. Ernest Feydeau put
aside every doubtful piece of information and all
that appeared susceptible of being interpreted in more
than one way. He seems to have been anxious to
forestall the suspicious mistrust of scholars, who
object to having the dry results of erudition clothed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</SPAN></span>
in poetic language, and who do not believe that a
treatise on archæology can possibly be read with as
much interest as a novel.</p>
<p>As I have said, the Egyptians have left us no
books, and had they done so the art of deciphering
hieroglyphics or even phonetic or demotic writing
is not yet assured enough to allow of absolute
trust being put in it. Happily the Egyptians performed
a work of such mightiness that it amazes
the beholder. By the side of the hieroglyphic inscriptions
they carved on the walls of palaces and
temples, on the sides of pylons, the faces of the corridors
and the bays of funeral chambers, on the faces
of the sarcophagi and on the stelæ, on the covers
and the interior cartonnages of the mummies,—in
short, on every smooth surface of rock, whether
sandstone or granite, basalt or porphyry, with an ineffaceable
line coloured with tints that the long succession
of ages has not faded,—scenes in which we
find in detail the habits and customs and the ceremonies
of the oldest civilisation in the world. It seems
as if those strange and mysterious people, foreseeing
the difficulty which posterity would experience in
deciphering their hieroglyphics, intrusted their trans<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</SPAN></span>lation
to drawing, and made the hypogea tell the secret
kept by the papyri.</p>
<p>Royal ceremonies, triumphal entries, the payments
of tribute, all the incidents of military life, of agriculture,
sport, fishing, banqueting, dances, the intimate life
of the harem, all is reproduced in these endless paintings,
so clearly drawn, with the difference in races,
variety of types, shape of chariots, of weapons, of
arms, of furniture, of utensils, of food, of plants, still
clearly visible to-day. A maker of musical instruments
could certainly make a harp, a lyre, or a sistrum
from the pattern of those upon which are playing
the female musicians at the funeral repast represented
in one of the tombs of the necropolis of Thebes.
The model of a dog-cart in a plate of modern carriages
is not drawn more accurately than the profile
of the chariot seen in the funeral procession of the
ecclesiastical scribe of Amenoph III, a king of the
eighteenth dynasty.</p>
<p>The author has not confined himself to these purely
material details. He has examined the funeral papyri
which, more or less valuable, are found with each
mummy; he has carefully studied the allegorical signs
which represent the judgment of the soul, the good<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</SPAN></span>
and evil deeds of which are weighed before Osiris and
the <SPAN name="twa" id="twa"></SPAN>forty-two judges, and thus he has mastered the
mysterious beliefs of the Egyptians on the question of
the future life. The soul, whether it was conducted
to Amenti or driven into the infernal regions—that
is, towards the West—by the dog-headed monkeys,
who appear to have been a sort of dæmons charged
with the carrying out of sentences,—the soul was,
nevertheless, not freed from all connection with the
body; its relative immortality depended in some sort
upon the integrity of the latter; the alteration, the deprivation
of one of the limbs was supposed to be felt
by the soul, the form of whose impalpable spectre
would have been mutilated and could not have traversed,
wanting a leg or an arm, the cycle of migrations
or metempsychoses. Hence the religious care
taken of the human remains, the infallible methods
and the minute precautions of the embalmers, the
perfect solidity and the secret location of the tombs,
of which the priests alone possessed the plan, the
constant thought of eternity in death which characterised
in so striking a manner the ancient Egyptians and
makes them a nation apart, incomprehensible to modern
nations, which are generally so eager to give back to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</SPAN></span>
the earth and to cause to disappear the generations
which have preceded them.</p>
<p>During his long and intimate acquaintance with
Egypt, M. Ernest Feydeau, who is not only an archæologist
but also a poet, after he had sounded the mysteries
of the old kingdom of the Pharaohs, became
passionately attached to that art which the Greek ideal—which
nevertheless is indebted to it for more than
one lesson—has caused us to despise too much. He
has understood, both as a painter and a sculptor, a
beauty which is so different from our own standard
and which is yet so real.</p>
<p>Hathor, the Egyptian Venus, seems to him as beautiful
as the Venus of Milo. Without entirely sharing
that feeling, I confess to admiring greatly the clean
outline, so pure, so slender, and so full of life. In
spite of the hieratic restrictions which did not allow
the consecrated attitude to be varied, art shows out in
more than one direction. There is a beauty of a
strange and penetrating charm foreign to our own
habits in the heads with their delicate profiles, their
great eyes made larger by the use of antimony, the
somewhat thick lips with their faint, dreamy pout, or
their vague smile resembling that of the sphinx, in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</SPAN></span>
rounded cheeks upon which hang broad discs of gold,
in the brows shaded by lotus flowers, in the temples
framed in by the narrow tresses of the hair, powdered
with blue powder, which are shown in funeral processions.
How youthful, how fresh, how pure are the
tall, slender bodies, the swelling bosoms, the supple
waists, the narrow hips of these dancers and musicians
who beat time with their long, slender fingers and their
long, narrow feet. The Etruscans themselves have
never produced anything more light, more graceful,
and more elegant upon the bodies of their finest vases,
and in more than one famous Greek bas-relief can be
recognised attitudes and gestures borrowed from the
frescoes of the necropolis and the tombs of Egypt. It
is from Egypt also that Greece took, while diminishing
their huge size, its Doric and Ionic orders and its
Corinthian capital, in which the acanthus takes the
place of the lotus flower.</p>
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<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3>
<br/>
The following spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected:<br/>
<br/>
Page <SPAN href="#quotes">9:</SPAN> " has been added before "I." ("I have a presentiment that)<br/>
Page <SPAN href="#amset">46:</SPAN> ' was removed before "Amset." (the man's head of Amset)<br/>
Page <SPAN href="#period">232:</SPAN> A period was added after "foot." (would disdain to set foot.)<br/>
Page <SPAN href="#taia">246:</SPAN> "Taia" changed to "Taïa." (Twea, Taïa, Amense,)<br/>
Page <SPAN href="#twa">349:</SPAN> "forty-twa" changed to "forty-two." (Osiris and the forty-two judges,)<br/>
<br/>
All other inconsistencies have been retained.</div>
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