There was so much warmth in these last words that Nebsecht, who had
thought the dwarf's reproach uncalled for, answered in a friendly tone:

"Not so badly; she may be saved."

"The Gods be praised!" exclaimed Nemu, while the priest passed on.

Nebsecht went up and down the hillside at a redoubled pace, and had long
taken his place by the couch of the wounded Uarda in the hovel of the
paraschites, when Nemu drew near to the abode of his Mother Hekt, from
whom Paaker had received the philter.

The old woman sat before the door of her cave. Near her lay a board,
fitted with cross pieces, between which a little boy was stretched in
such a way that they touched his head and his feet.

Hekt understood the art of making dwarfs; playthings in human form were
well paid for, and the child on the rack, with his pretty little face,
promised to be a valuable article.

As soon as the sorceress saw some one approaching, she stooped over the
child, took him up board and all in her arms, and carried him into the
cave. Then she said sternly:

"If you move, little one, I will flog you. Now let me tie you."

"Don't tie me," said the child, "I will be good and lie still."

"Stretch yourself out," ordered the old woman, and tied the child with a
rope to the board. "If you are quiet, I'll give you a honey-cake
by-and-bye, and let you play with the young chickens."

The child was quiet, and a soft smile of delight and hope sparkled in his
pretty eyes. His little hand caught the dress of the old woman, and with
the sweetest coaxing tone, which God bestows on the innocent voices of
children, he said:

"I will be as still as a mouse, and no one shall know that I am here; but
if you give me the honeycake you will untie me for a little, and let me
go to Uarda."

"She is ill!--what do you want there?"

"I would take her the cake," said the child, and his eyes glistened with
tears.

The old woman touched the child's chin with her finger, and some
mysterious power prompted her to bend over him to kiss him. But before
her lips had touched his face she turned away, and said, in a hard tone:

"Lie still! by and bye we will see." Then she stooped, and threw a brown
sack over the child. She went back into the open air, greeted Nemu,
entertained him with milk, bread and honey, gave him news of the girl who
had been run over, for he seemed to take her misfortune very much to
heart, and finally asked:

"What brings you here? The Nile was still narrow when you last found your
way to me, and now it has been falling some time.

[This is the beginning of November. The Nile begins slowly to rise
early in June; between the 15th and 20th of July it suddenly swells
rapidly, and in the first half of October, not, as was formerly
supposed, at the end of September, the inundation reaches its
highest level. Heinrich Barth established these data beyond
dispute. After the water has begun to sink it rises once more in
October and to a higher level than before. Then it soon falls, at
first slowly, but by degrees quicker and quicker.]

Are you sent by your mistress, or do you want my help? All the world is
alike. No one goes to see any one else unless he wants to make use of
him. What shall I give you?"

"I want nothing," said the dwarf, "but--"

"You are commissioned by a third person," said the witch, laughing. "It
is the same thing. Whoever wants a thing for some one else only thinks of
his own interest."

"May be," said Nemu. "At any rate your words show that you have not grown
less wise since I saw you last--and I am glad of it, for I want your
advice."

"Advice is cheap. What is going on out there?" Nemu related to his mother
shortly, clearly, and without reserve, what was plotting in his
mistress's house, and the frightful disgrace with which she was
threatened through her son.

The old woman shook her grey head thoughtfully several times: but she let
the little man go on to the end of his story without interrupting him.
Then she asked, and her eyes flashed as she spoke:

"And you really believe that you will succeed in putting the sparrow on
the eagle's perch--Ani on the throne of Rameses?"

"The troops fighting in Ethiopia are for us," cried Nemu. "The priests
declare themselves against the king, and recognize in Ani the genuine
blood of Ra."

"That is much," said the old woman.

"And many dogs are the death of the gazelle," said Nemu laughing.

"But Rameses is not a gazelle to run, but a lion," said the old woman
gravely. "You are playing a high game."

"We know it," answered Nemu. But it is for high stakes--there is much to
win."

"And all to lose," muttered the old woman, passing her fingers round her
scraggy neck. "Well, do as you please--it is all the same to me who it is
sends the young to be killed, and drives the old folks' cattle from the
field. What do they want with me?"

"No one has sent me," answered the dwarf. I come of my own free fancy to
ask you what Katuti must do to save her son and her house from dishonor."

"Hm!" hummed the witch, looking at Nemu while she raised herself on her
stick. "What has come to you that you take the fate of these great people
to heart as if it were your own?"

The dwarf reddened, and answered hesitatingly, "Katuti is a good
mistress, and, if things go well with her, there may be windfalls for you
and me."

Hekt shook her head doubtfully.

"A loaf for you perhaps, and a crumb for me!" she said. "There is more
than that in your mind, and I can read your heart as if you were a ripped
up raven. You are one of those who can never keep their fingers at rest,
and must knead everybody's dough; must push, and drive and stir
something. Every jacket is too tight for you. If you were three feet
taller, and the son of a priest, you might have gone far. High you will
go, and high you will end; as the friend of a king--or on the gallows."

The old woman laughed; but Nemu bit his lips, and said:

"If you had sent me to school, and if I were not the son of a witch, and
a dwarf, I would play with men as they have played with me; for I am
cleverer than all of them, and none of their plans are hidden from me. A
hundred roads lie before me, when they don't know whether to go out or
in; and where they rush heedlessly forwards I see the abyss that they are
running to."

"And nevertheless you come to me?" said the old woman sarcastically.

"I want your advice," said Nemu seriously. "Four eyes see more than one,
and the impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player; besides you are
bound to help me."

The old woman laughed loud in astonishment. "Bound!" she said, "I? and to
what if you please?"

"To help me," replied the dwarf, half in entreaty, and half in reproach.
"You deprived me of my growth, and reduced me to a cripple."

"Because no one is better off than you dwarfs," interrupted the witch.

Nemu shook his head, and answered sadly--

"You have often said so--and perhaps for many others, who are born in
misery like me--perhaps-you are right; but for me--you have spoilt my
life; you have crippled not my body only but my soul, and have condemned
me to sufferings that are nameless and unutterable."

The dwarf's big head sank on his breast, and with his left hand he
pressed his heart.

The old woman went up to him kindly.

"What ails you?" she asked, "I thought it was well with you in Mena's
house."

"You thought so?" cried the dwarf. "You who show me as in a mirror what I
am, and how mysterious powers throng and stir in me? You made me what I
am by your arts; you sold me to the treasurer of Rameses, and he gave me
to the father of Mena, his brother-in-law. Fifteen years ago! I was a
young man then, a youth like any other, only more passionate, more
restless, and fiery than they. I was given as a plaything to the young
Mena, and he harnessed me to his little chariot, and dressed me out with
ribbons and feathers, and flogged me when I did not go fast enough. How
the girl--for whom I would have given my life--the porter's daughter,
laughed when I, dressed up in motley, hopped panting in front of the
chariot and the young lord's whip whistled in my ears wringing the sweat
from my brow, and the blood from my broken heart. Then Mena's father
died, the boy, went to school, and I waited on the wife of his steward,
whom Katuti banished to Hermonthis. That was a time! The little daughter
of the house made a doll of me,

[Dolls belonging to the time of the Pharaohs are preserved in the
museums, for instance, the jointed ones at Leyden.]

laid me in the cradle, and made me shut my eyes and pretend to sleep,
while love and hatred, and great projects were strong within me. If I
tried to resist they beat me with rods; and when once, in a rage, I
forgot myself, and hit little Mertitefs hard, Mena, who came in, hung me
up in the store-room to a nail by my girdle, and left me to swing there;
he said he had forgotten to take me down again. The rats fell upon me;
here are the scars, these little white spots here--look! They perhaps
will some day wear out, but the wounds that my spirit received in those
hours have not yet ceased to bleed. Then Mena married Nefert, and, with
her, his mother-in-law, Katuti, came into the house. She took me from the
steward, I became indispensable to her; she treats me like a man, she
values my intelligence and listens to my advice,--therefore I will make
her great, and with her, and through her, I will wax mighty. If Ani
mounts the throne, we wilt guide him--you, and I, and she! Rameses must
fall, and with him Mena, the boy who degraded my body and poisoned my
soul!"

During this speech the old woman had stood in silence opposite the dwarf.
Now she sat down on her rough wooden seat, and said, while she proceeded
to pluck a lapwing:

"Now I understand you; you wish to be revenged. You hope to rise high,
and I am to whet your knife, and hold the ladder for you. Poor little
man! there, sit down-drink a gulp of milk to cool you, and listen to my
advice. Katuti wants a great deal of money to escape dishonor. She need
only pick it up--it lies at her door." The dwarf looked at the witch in
astonishment.

"The Mohar Paaker is her sister Setchem's son. Is he not?"

"As you say."

"Katuti's daughter Nefert is the wife of your master Mena, and another
would like to tempt the neglected little hen into his yard."

"You mean Paaker, to whom Nefert was promised before she went after
Mena."

"Paaker was with me the day before yesterday."

"With you?"

"Yes, with me, with old Hekt--to buy a love philter. I gave him one, and
as I was curious I went after him, saw him give the water to the little
lady, and found out her name."

"And Nefert drank the magic drink?" asked the dwarf horrified. "Vinegar
and turnip juice," laughed the old witch. "A lord who comes to me to win
a wife is ripe for any thing. Let Nefert ask Paaker for the money, and
the young scapegrace's debts are paid."

"Katuti is proud, and repulsed me severely when I proposed this."

"Then she must sue to Paaker herself for the money. Go back to him, make
him hope that Nefert is inclined to him, tell him what distresses the
ladies, and if he refuses, but only if he refuses, let him see that you
know something of the little dose."

The dwarf looked meditatively on the ground, and then said, looking
admiringly at the old woman: "That is the right thing."

"You will find out the lie without my telling you," mumbled the witch;
"your business is not perhaps such a bad one as it seemed to me at first.
Katuti may thank the ne'er-do-well who staked his father's corpse. You
don't understand me? Well, if you are really the sharpest of them all
over there, what must the others be?"

"You mean that people will speak well of my mistress for sacrificing so
large a sum for the sake--?"

"Whose sake? why speak well of her?" cried the old woman impatiently.
"Here we deal with other things, with actual facts. There stands
Paaker--there the wife of Mena. If the Mohar sacrifices a fortune for
Nefert, he will be her master, and Katuti will not stand in his way; she
knows well enough why her nephew pays for her. But some one else stops
the way, and that is Mena. It is worth while to get him out of the way.
The charioteer stands close to the Pharaoh, and the noose that is flung
at one may easily fall round the neck of the other too. Make the Mohar
your ally, and it may easily happen that your rat-bites may be paid for
with mortal wounds, and Rameses who, if you marched against him openly,
might blow you to the ground, may be hit by a lance thrown from an
ambush. When the throne is clear, the weak legs of the Regent may succeed
in clambering up to it with the help of the priests. Here you
sit-open-mouthed; and I have told you nothing that you might not have
found out for yourself."

"You are a perfect cask of wisdom!" exclaimed the dwarf.

"And now you will go away," said Hekt, "and reveal your schemes to your
mistress and the Regent, and they will be astonished at your cleverness.
To-day you still know that I have shown you what you have to do;
to-morrow you will have forgotten it; and the day after to-morrow you
will believe yourself possessed by the inspiration of the nine great
Gods. I know that; but I cannot give anything for nothing. You live by
your smallness, another makes his living with his hard hands, I earn my
scanty bread by the thoughts of my brain. Listen! when you have half won
Paaker, and Ani shows himself inclined to make use of him, then say to
him that I may know a secret--and I do know one, I alone--which may make
the Mohar the sport of his wishes, and that I may be disposed to sell
it."

"That shall be done! certainly, mother," cried the dwarf. "What do you
wish for?"

"Very little," said the old woman. "Only a permit that makes me free to
do and to practise whatever I please, unmolested even by the priests, and
to receive an honorable burial after my death."

"The Regent will hardly agree to that; for he must avoid everything that
may offend the servants of the Gods."

"And do everything," retorted the old woman, "that can degrade Rameses in
their sight. Ani, do you hear, need not write me a new license, but only
renew the old one granted to me by Rameses when I cured his favorite
horse. They burnt it with my other possessions, when they plundered my
house, and denounced me and my belongings for sorcery. The permit of
Rameses is what I want, nothing more."

"You shall have it," said the dwarf. "Good-by; I am charged to look into
the tomb of our house, and see whether the offerings for the dead are
regularly set out; to pour out fresh essences and have various things
renewed. When Sechet has ceased to rage, and it is cooler, I shall come
by here again, for I should like to call on the paraschites, and see how
the poor child is."




CHAPTER XIII.

During this conversation two men had been busily occupied, in front of
the paraschites' hut, in driving piles into the earth, and stretching a
torn linen cloth upon them.

One of them, old Pinem, whom we have seen tending his grandchild,
requested the other from time to time to consider the sick girl and to
work less noisily.

After they had finished their simple task, and spread a couch of fresh
straw under the awning, they too sat down on the earth, and looked at the
hut before which the surgeon Nebsecht was sitting waiting till the
sleeping girl should wake.

"Who is that?" asked the leech of the old man, pointing to his young
companion, a tall sunburnt soldier with a bushy red beard.

"My son," replied the paraschites, "who is just returned from Syria."

"Uarda's father?" asked Nebsecht.

The soldier nodded assent, and said with a rough voice, but not without
cordiality.

"No one could guess it by looking at us--she is so white and rosy. Her
mother was a foreigner, and she has turned out as delicate as she was. I
am afraid to touch her with my little finger--and there comes a chariot
over the brittle doll, and does not quite crush her, for she is still
alive."

"Without the help of this holy father," said the paraschites, approaching
the surgeon, and kissing his robe, "you would never have seen her alive
again. May the Gods reward thee for what thou hast done for its poor
folks!"

"And we can pay too," cried the soldier, slapping a full purse that hung
at his gridle. "We have taken plunder in Syria, and I will buy a calf,
and give it to thy temple."

"Offer a beast of dough, rather."

[Hogs were sacrificed at the feasts of Selene (the Egyptian
Nechebt). The poor offer pigs made of dough. Herodotus II., 47.
Various kinds of cakes baked in the form of animals are represented
on the monuments.]

replied Nebsecht, "and if you wish to show yourself grateful to me, give
the money to your father, so that he may feed and nurse your child in
accordance with my instructions."

"Hm," murmured the soldier; he took the purse from his girdle, flourished
it in his hand, and said, as he handed it to the paraschites:

"I should have liked to drink it! but take it, father, for the child and
my mother."

While the old man hesitatingly put out his hand for the rich gift, the
soldier recollected himself and said, opening the purse:

"Let me take out a few rings, for to-day I cannot go dry. I have two or
three comrades lodging in the red Tavern. That is right. There,--take the
rest of the rubbish."

Nebsecht nodded approvingly at the soldier, and he, as his father
gratefully kissed the surgeon's hand, exclaimed:

"Make the little one sound, holy father! It, is all over with gifts and
offerings, for I have nothing left; but there are two iron fists and a
breast like the wall of a fortress. If at any time thou dost want help,
call me, and I will protect thee against twenty enemies. Thou hast saved
my child--good! Life for life. I sign myself thy blood-ally--there."

With these words he drew his poniard out of his girdle. He scratched his
arm, and let a few drops of his blood run down on a stone at the feet of
Nebsecht--"Look," he said. "There is my bond, Kaschta has signed himself
thine, and thou canst dispose of my life as of thine own. What I have
said, I have said."

"I am a man of peace," Nebsecht stammered, "And my white robe protects
me. But I believe our patient is awake."

The physician rose, and entered the hut.

Uarda's pretty head lay on her grandmother's lap, and her large blue eyes
turned contentedly on the priest.

"She might get up and go out into the air," said the old woman. "She has
slept long and soundly." The surgeon examined her pulse, and her wound,
on which green leaves were laid.

"Excellent," he said; "who gave you this healing herb?"

The old woman shuddered, and hesitated; but Uarda said fearlessly; "Old
Hekt, who lives over there in the black cave."

"The witch!" muttered Nebsecht. "But we will let the leaves remain; if
they do good, it is no matter where they came from."

"Hekt tasted the drops thou didst give her," said the old woman, "and
agreed that they were good."

"Then we are satisfied with each other," answered Nebsecht, with a smile
of amusement. "We will carry you now into the open air, little maid; for
the air in here is as heavy as lead, and your damaged lung requires
lighter nourishment."

"Yes, let me go out," said the girl. "It is well that thou hast not
brought back the other with thee, who tormented me with his vows."

"You mean blind Teta," said Nebsecht, "he will not come again; but the
young priest who soothed your father, when he repulsed the princess, will
visit you. He is kindly disposed, and you should--you should--"

"Pentaur will come?" said the girl eagerly.

"Before midday. But how do you know his name?"

"I know him," said Uarda decidedly.

The surgeon looked at her surprised.

"You must not talk any more," he said, "for your cheeks are glowing, and
the fever may return. We have arranged a tent for you, and now we will
carry you into the open air."

"Not yet," said the girl. "Grandmother, do my hair for me, it is so
heavy."

With these words she endeavored to part her mass of long reddish-brown
hair with her slender hands, and to free it from the straws that had got
entangled in it.

"Lie still," said the surgeon, in a warning voice.

"But it is so heavy," said the sick girl, smiling and showing Nebsecht
her abundant wealth of golden hair as if it were a fatiguing burden.
"Come, grandmother, and help me."

The old woman leaned over the child, and combed her long locks carefully
with a coarse comb made of grey horn, gently disengaged the straws from
the golden tangle, and at last laid two thick long plaits on her
granddaughter's shoulders.

Nebsecht knew that every movement of the wounded girl might do mischief,
and his impulse was to stop the old woman's proceedings, but his tongue
seemed spell-bound. Surprised, motionless, and with crimson cheeks, he
stood opposite the girl, and his eyes followed every movement of her
hands with anxious observation.

She did not notice him.

When the old woman laid down the comb Uarda drew a long breath.

"Grandmother," she said, "give me the mirror." The old woman brought a
shard of dimly glazed, baked clay. The girl turned to the light,
contemplated the undefined reflection for a moment, and said:

"I have not seen a flower for so long, grandmother."

"Wait, child," she replied; she took from a jug the rose, which the
princess had laid on the bosom of her grandchild, and offered it to her.
Before Uarda could take it, the withered petals fell, and dropped upon
her. The surgeon stooped, gathered them up, and put them into the child's
hand.

"How good you are!" she said; "I am called Uarda--like this flower--and I
love roses and the fresh air. Will you carry me out now?"

Nebsecht called the paraschites, who came into the hut with his son, and
they carried the girl out into the air, and laid her under the humble
tent they had contrived for her. The soldier's knees trembled while he
held the light burden of his daughter's weight in his strong hands, and
he sighed when he laid her down on the mat.

"How blue the sky is!" cried Uarda. "Ah! grandfather has watered my
pomegranate, I thought so! and there come my doves! give me some corn in
my hand, grandmother. How pleased they are."

The graceful birds, with black rings round their reddish-grey necks, flew
confidingly to her, and took the corn that she playfully laid between her
lips.

Nebsecht looked on with astonishment at this pretty play. He felt as if a
new world had opened to him, and some new sense, hitherto unknown to him,
had been revealed to him within his breast. He silently sat down in front
of the but, and drew the picture of a rose on the sand with a reed-stem
that he picked up.

Perfect stillness was around him; the doves even had flown up, and
settled on the roof. Presently the dog barked, steps approached; Uarda
lifted herself up and said:

"Grandmother, it is the priest Pentaur."

"Who told you?" asked the old woman.

"I know it," answered the girl decidedly, and in a few moments a sonorous
voice cried: "Good day to you. How is your invalid?"

Pentaur was soon standing by Uarda; pleased to hear Nebsecht's good
report, and with the sweet face of the girl. He had some flowers in his
hand, that a happy maiden had laid on the altar of the Goddess Hathor,
which he had served since the previous day, and he gave them to the sick
girl, who took them with a blush, and held them between her clasped
hands.

"The great Goddess whom I serve sends you these," said Pentaur, "and they
will bring you healing. Continue to resemble them. You are pure and fair
like them, and your course henceforth may be like theirs. As the sun
gives life to the grey horizon, so you bring joy to this dark but.
Preserve your innocence, and wherever you go you will bring love, as
flowers spring in every spot that is trodden by the golden foot of
Hathor.

[Hathor is frequently called "the golden," particularly at Dendera
She has much in common with the "golden Aphrodite."]

May her blessing rest upon you!"

He had spoken the last words half to the old couple and half to Uarda,
and was already turning to depart when, behind a heap of dried reeds that
lay close to the awning over the girl, the bitter cry of a child was
heard, and a little boy came forward who held, as high as he could reach,
a little cake, of which the dog, who seemed to know him well, had
snatched half.

"How do you come here, Scherau?" the paraschites asked the weeping boy;
the unfortunate child that Hekt was bringing up as a dwarf.

"I wanted," sobbed the little one, "to bring the cake to Uarda. She is
ill--I had so much--"

"Poor child," said the paraschites, stroking the boy's hair; "there-give
it to Uarda."

Scherau went up to the sick girl, knelt down by her, and whispered with
streaming eyes:

"Take it! It is good, and very sweet, and if I get another cake, and Hekt
will let me out, I will bring it to you.

"Thank you, good little Scherau," said Uarda, kissing the child. Then she
turned to Pentaur and said:

"For weeks he has had nothing but papyrus-pith, and lotus-bread, and now
he brings me the cake which grandmother gave old Hekt yesterday."

The child blushed all over, and stammered:

"It is only half--but I did not touch it. Your dog bit out this piece,
and this."

He touched the honey with the tip of his finger, and put it to his lips.
"I was a long time behind the reeds there, for I did not like to come out
because of the strangers there." He pointed to Nebsecht and Pentaur. "But
now I must go home," he cried.

The child was going, but Pentaur stopped him, seized him, lifted him up
in his arms and kissed him; saying, as he turned to Nebsecht:

"They were wise, who represented Horus--the symbol of the triumph of good
over evil and of purity over the impure--in the form of a child. Bless
you, my little friend; be good, and always give away what you have to
make others happy. It will not make your house rich--but it will your
heart!"

Scherau clung to the priest, and involuntarily raised his little hand to
stroke Pentaur's cheek. An unknown tenderness had filled his little
heart, and he felt as if he must throw his arms round the poet's neck and
cry upon his breast.

But Pentaur set him down on the ground, and he trotted down into the
valley. There he paused. The sun was high in the heavens, and he must
return to the witch's cave and his board, but he would so much like to go
a little farther--only as far as to the king's tomb, which was quite
near.

Close by the door of this tomb was a thatch of palm-branches, and under
this the sculptor Batau, a very aged man, was accustomed to rest. The old
man was deaf, but he passed for the best artist of his time, and with
justice; he had designed the beautiful pictures and hieroglyphic
inscriptions in Seti's splendid buildings at Abydos and Thebes, as well
as in the tomb of that prince, and he was now working at the decoration
of the walls in the grave of Rameses.

Scherau had often crept close up to him, and thoughtfully watched him at
work, and then tried himself to make animal and human figures out of a
bit of clay.

One day the old man had observed him.

The sculptor had silently taken his humble attempt out of his hand, and
had returned it to him with a smile of encouragement.

From that time a peculiar tie had sprung up between the two. Scherau
would venture to sit down by the sculptor, and try to imitate his
finished images. Not a word was exchanged between them, but often the
deaf old man would destroy the boy's works, often on the contrary improve
them with a touch of his own hand, and not seldom nod at him to encourage
him.

When he staid away the old man missed his pupil, and Scherau's happiest
hours were those which he passed at his side.

He was not forbidden to take some clay home with him. There, when the old
woman's back was turned, he moulded a variety of images which he
destroyed as soon as they were finished.

While he lay on his rack his hands were left free, and he tried to
reproduce the various forms which lived in his imagination, he forgot the
present in his artistic attempts, and his bitter lot acquired a flavor of
the sweetest enjoyment.

But to-day it was too late; he must give up his visit to the tomb of
Rameses.

Once more he looked back at the hut, and then hurried into the dark cave.