success."
CHAPTER II.

Bai, the second prophet of Amon, who acted as the representative of the
aged and feeble chief-prophet and high-priest Rui, went into the holy of
holies, the throng of inferior servants of the divinity pursued their
various duties, and the frenzied mob rushed through the streets of the
city towards the distant Hebrew quarter.

As the flood, pouring into the valley, sweeps everything before it, the
people, rushing to seek vengeance, forced every one they met to join
them. No Egyptian from whom death had snatched a loved one failed to
follow the swelling torrent, which increased till hundreds became
thousands. Men, women, and children, freedmen and slaves, winged by the
ardent longing to bring death and destruction on the hated Hebrews,
darted to the remote quarter where they dwelt.

How the workman had grasped a hatchet, the housewife an axe, they
themselves scarcely knew. They were dashing forward to deal death and
ruin and had had no occasion to search for weapons--they had been close
at hand.

The first to feel the weight of their vengeance must be Nun, an aged
Hebrew, rich in herds, loved and esteemed by many an Egyptian whom he had
benefitted--but when hate and revenge speak, gratitude shrinks timidly
into the background.

His property, like the houses and hovels of his people, was in the
strangers' quarter, west of Tanis, and lay nearest to the streets
inhabited by the Egyptians themselves.

Usually at this hour herds of cattle and flocks of sheep were being
watered or driven to pasture and the great yard before his house was
filled with cattle, servants of both sexes, carts, and agricultural
implements. The owner usually overlooked the departure of the flocks and
herds, and the mob had marked him and his family for the first victims of
their fury.

The swiftest of the avengers had now reached his extensive
farm-buildings, among them Hornecht, captain of the archers,
brother-in-law of the old astrologer. House and barns were brightly
illumined by the first light of the young day. A stalwart smith kicked
violently on the stout door; but the unbolted sides yielded so easily
that he was forced to cling to the door-post to save himself from
falling. Others, Hornecht among them, pressed past him into the yard.
What did this mean?

Had some new spell been displayed to attest the power of the Hebrew
leader Mesu, who had brought such terrible plagues on the land,--and of
his God.

The yard was absolutely empty. The stalls contained a few dead cattle and
sheep, killed because they had been crippled in some way, while a lame
lamb limped off at sight of the mob. The carts and wagons, too, had
vanished. The lowing, bleating throng which the priests had imagined to
be the souls of the damned was the Hebrew host, departing by night from
their old home with all their flocks under the guidance of Moses.

The captain of the archers dropped his sword, and a spectator might have
believed that the sight was a pleasant surprise to him; but his neighbor,
a clerk from the king's treasure-house, gazed around the empty space with
the disappointed air of a man who has been defrauded.

The flood of schemes and passions, which had surged so high during the
night, ebbed under the clear light of day. Even the soldier's quickly
awakened wrath had long since subsided into composure. The populace might
have wreaked their utmost fury on the other Hebrews, but not upon Nun,
whose son, Hosea, had been his comrade in arms, one of the most
distinguished leaders in the army, and an intimate family friend. Had he
thought of him and foreseen that his father's dwelling would be first
attacked, he would never have headed the mob in their pursuit of
vengeance; nay, he bitterly repented having forgotten the deliberate
judgment which befitted his years.

While many of the throng began to plunder and destroy Nun's deserted
home, men and women came to report that not a soul was to be found in any
of the neighboring dwellings. Others told of cats cowering on the
deserted hearthstones, of slaughtered cattle and shattered furniture; but
at last the furious avengers dragged out a Hebrew with his family and a
half-witted grey-haired woman found hidden among some straw. The crone,
amid imbecile laughter, said her people had made themselves hoarse
calling her, but Meliela was too wise to walk on and on as they meant to
do; besides her feet were too tender, and she had not even a pair of
shoes.

The man, a frightfully ugly Jew, whom few of his own race would have
pitied, protested, sometimes with a humility akin to fawning, sometimes
with the insolence which was a trait of his character, that he had
nothing to do with the god of lies in whose name the seducer Moses had
led away his people to ruin; he himself, his wife, and his child had
always been on friendly terms with the Egyptians. Indeed, many knew him,
he was a money-lender and when the rest of his nation had set forth on
their pilgrimage, he had concealed himself, hoping to pursue his
dishonest calling and sustain no loss.

Some of his debtors, however, were among the infuriated populace, though
even without their presence he was a doomed man; for he was the first
person on whom the excited mob could show that they were resolved upon
revenge. Rushing upon him with savage yells, the lifeless bodies of the
luckless wretch and his family were soon strewn over the ground. Nobody
knew who had done this first bloody deed; too many had dashed forward at
once.

Not a few others who had remained in the houses and huts also fell
victims to the people's thirst for vengeance, though many had time to
escape, and while streams of blood were flowing, axes were wielded, and
walls and doors were battered down with beams and posts to efface the
abodes of the detested race from the earth.

The burning embers brought by some frantic women were extinguished and
trampled out; the more prudent warned them of the peril that would menace
their own homes and the whole city of Tanis, if the strangers' quarter
should be fired.

So the Hebrews' dwellings escaped the flames; but as the sun mounted
higher dense clouds of white dust shrouded the abodes they had forsaken,
and where, only yesterday, thousands of people had possessed happy homes
and numerous herds had quenched their thirst in fresh waters, the glowing
soil was covered with rubbish and stone, shattered beams, and broken
woodwork. Dogs and cats left behind by their owners wandered among the
ruins and were joined by women and children who lived in the beggars'
hovels on the edge of the necropolis close by, and now, holding their
hands over their mouths, searched amid the stifling dust and rubbish for
any household utensil or food which might have been left by the fugitives
and overlooked by the mob.

During the afternoon Fai, the second prophet of Amon, was carried past
the ruined quarter. He did not come to gloat over the spectacle of
destruction, it was his nearest way from the necropolis to his home. Yet
a satisfied smile hovered around his stern mouth as he noticed how
thoroughly the people had performed their work. His own purpose, it is
true, had not been fulfilled, the leader of the fugitives had escaped
their vengeance, but hate, though never sated, can yet be gratified. Even
the smallest pangs of an enemy are a satisfaction, and the priest had
just come from the grieving Pharaoh. He had not succeeded in releasing
him entirely from the bonds of the Hebrew magician, but he had loosened
them.

The resolute, ambitious man, by no means wont to hold converse with
himself, had repeated over and over again, while sitting alone in the
sanctuary reflecting on what had occurred and what yet remained to be
done, these little words, and the words were: "Bless me too!"

Pharaoh had uttered them, and the entreaty had been addressed neither to
old Rui, the chief priest, nor to himself, the only persons who could
possess the privilege of blessing the monarch, nay--but to the most
atrocious wretch that breathed, to the foreigner the Hebrew, Mesu, whom
he hated more than any other man on earth.

"Bless me too!" The pious entreaty, which wells so trustingly from the
human heart in the hour of anguish, had pierced his soul like a dagger.
It had seemed as if such a petition, uttered by the royal lips to such a
man, had broken the crozier in the hand of the whole body of Egyptian
priests, stripped the panther-skin from their shoulders, and branded with
shame the whole people whom he loved.

He knew full well that Moses was one of the wisest sages who had ever
graduated from the Egyptian schools, knew that Pharaoh was completely
under the thrall of this man who had grown up in the royal household and
been a friend of his father Rameses the Great. He had seen the monarch
pardon deeds committed by Moses which would have cost the life of any
other mortal, though he were the highest noble in the land--and what must
the Hebrew be to Pharaoh, the sun-god incarnate on the throne of the
world, when standing by the death-bed of his own son, he could yield to
the impulse to uplift his hands to him and cry "Bless me too!"

He had told himself all these things, maturely considered them, yet he
would not yield to the might of the strangers. The destruction of this
man and all his race was in his eyes the holiest, most urgent duty--to
accomplish which he would not shrink even from assailing the throne. Nay,
in his eyes Pharaoh Menephtah's shameful entreaty: "Bless me too!" had
deprived him of all the rights of sovereignty.

Moses had murdered Pharaoh's first-born son, but he and the aged
chief-priest of Amon held the weal or woe of the dead prince's soul in
their hands,--a weapon sharp and strong, for he knew the monarch's weak
and vacillating heart. If the high-priest of Amon--the only man whose
authority surpassed his own--did not thwart him by some of the
unaccountable whims of age, it would be the merest trifle to force
Pharaoh to yield; but any concession made to-day would be withdrawn
to-morrow, should the Hebrew succeed in coming between the irresolute
monarch and his Egyptian advisers. This very day the unworthy son of the
great Rameses had covered his face and trembled like a timid fawn at the
bare mention of the sorcerer's name, and to-morrow he might curse him and
pronounce a death sentence upon him. Perhaps he might be induced to do
this, and on the following one he would recall him and again sue for his
blessing.

Down with such monarchs! Let the feeble reed on the throne be hurled into
the dust! Already he had chosen a successor from among the princes of the
blood, and when the time was ripe--when Rui, the high-priest of Amon, had
passed the limits of life decreed by the gods to mortals and closed his
eyes in death, he, Bai, would occupy his place, a new life for Egypt, and
Moses and his race would commence would perish.

While the prophet was absorbed in these reflections a pair of ravens
fluttered around his head and, croaking loudly, alighted on the dusty
ruins of one of the shattered houses. He involuntarily glanced around him
and noted that they had perched on the corpse of a murdered Hebrew, lying
half concealed amid the rubbish. A smile which the priests of lower rank
who surrounded his litter knew not how to interpret, flitted over his
shrewd, defiant countenance.




CHAPTER III.

Hornecht, commander of the archers, was among the prophet's companions.
Indeed they were on terms of intimacy, for the soldier was a leader amid
the nobles who had conspired to dethrone Pharaoh.

As they approached Nun's ruined dwelling, the prophet pointed to the
wreck and said: "The former owner of this abode is the only Hebrew I
would gladly spare. He was a man of genuine worth, and his son,
Hosea. . . ."

"Will be one of us," the captain interrupted. "There are few better men
in Pharaoh's army, and," he added, lowering his voice, "I rely on him
when the decisive hour comes."

"We will discuss that before fewer witnesses," replied Bai. "But I am
greatly indebted to him. During the Libyan war--you are aware of the
fact--I fell into the hands of the enemy, and Hosea, at the head of his
little troop, rescued me from the savage hordes." Sinking his tones, he
went on in his most instructive manner, as though apologizing for the
mischief wrought: "Such is the course of earthly affairs! Where a whole
body of men merit punishment, the innocent must suffer with the guilty.
Under such circumstances the gods themselves cannot separate the
individual from the multitude; nay, even the innocent animals share the
penalty. Look at the flocks of doves fluttering around the ruins; they
are seeking their cotes in vain. And the cat with her kittens yonder. Go
and take them, Beki; it is our duty to save the sacred animals from
starving to death."

And this man, who had just been planning the destruction of so many of
his fellow-mortals, was so warmly interested in kindly caring for the
senseless beasts, that he stopped his litter and watched his servants
catch the cats.

This was less quickly accomplished than he had hoped; for one had taken
refuge in the nearest cellar, whose opening was too narrow for the men to
follow. The youngest, a slender Nubian, undertook the task; but he had
scarcely approached the hole when he started back, calling: "There is a
human being there who seems to be alive. Yes, he is raising his hand. It
is a boy or a youth, and assuredly no slave; his head is covered with
long waving locks, and--a sunbeam is shining into the cellar--I can see a
broad gold circlet on his arm."

"Perhaps it is one of Nun's kindred, who has been forgotten," said
Hornecht, and Bai eagerly added:

"It is an interposition from the gods! Their sacred animals have pointed
out the way by which I can render a service to the man to whom I am so
much indebted. Try to get in, Beki, and bring the youth out."

Meanwhile the Nubian had removed the stone whose fall had choked the
opening, and soon after he lifted toward his companions a motionless
young form which they brought into the open air and bore to a well whose
cool water speedily restored consciousness.

As he regained his senses, he rubbed his eyes, gazed around him
bewildered, as if uncertain where he was, then his head drooped as though
overwhelmed with grief and horror, revealing that the locks at the back
were matted together with black clots of dried blood.

The prophet had the deep wound, inflicted on the lad by a falling stone,
washed at the well and, after it had been bandaged, summoned him to his
own litter, which was protected from the sun.

The young Hebrew, bringing a message, had arrived at the house of his
grandfather Nun, before sunrise, after a long night walk from Pithom,
called by the Hebrews Succoth, but finding it deserted had lain down in
one of the rooms to rest a while. Roused by the shouts of the infuriated
mob, he had heard the curses on his race which rang through the whole
quarter and fled to the cellar. The roof, which had injured him in its
fall, proved his deliverance; for the clouds of dust which had concealed
everything as it came down hid him from the sight of the rioters.

The prophet looked at him intently and, though the youth was unwashed,
wan, and disfigured by the bloody bandage round his head, he saw that the
lad he had recalled to life was a handsome, well-grown boy just nearing
manhood.

His sympathy was roused, and his stern glance softened as he asked kindly
whence he came and what had brought him to Tanis; for the rescued youth's
features gave no clue to his race. He might readily have declared himself
an Egyptian, but he frankly admitted that he was a grandson of Nun. He
had just attained his eighteenth year, his name was Ephraim, like that of
his forefather, the son of Joseph, and he had come to visit his
grandfather. The words expressed steadfast self-respect and pride in his
illustrious ancestry.

He delayed a short time ere answering the question whether he brought a
message; but soon collected his thoughts and, looking the prophet
fearlessly in the face, replied:

"Whoever you may be, I have been taught to speak the truth, so I will
tell you that I have another relative in Tanis, Hosea, the son of Nun, a
chief in Pharaoh's army, for whom I have a message."

"And I will tell you," the priest replied, "that it was for the sake of
this very Hosea I tarried here and ordered my servants to bring you out
of the ruined house. I owe him a debt of gratitude, and though most of
your nation have committed deeds worthy of the harshest punishment, for
the sake of his worth you shall remain among us free and unharmed."

The boy raised his eyes to the priest with a proud, fiery glance, but ere
he could find words, Bai went on with encouraging kindness.

"I believe I can read in your face, my lad, that you have come to seek
admittance to Pharaoh's army under your uncle Hosea. Your figure is
well-suited to the trade of war, and you surely are not wanting in
courage."

A smile of flattered vanity rested on Ephraim's lips, and toying with the
broad gold bracelet on his arm, perhaps unconsciously, he replied with
eagerness:

"Ay, my lord, I have often proved my courage in the hunting field; but at
home we have plenty of sheep and cattle, which even now I call my own,
and it seems to me a more enviable lot to wander freely and rule the
shepherds than to obey the commands of others."

"Aha!" said the priest. "Perhaps Hosea may instil different and better
views. To rule--a lofty ambition for youth. The misfortune is that we who
have attained it are but servants whose burdens grow heavier with the
increasing number of those who obey us. You understand me, Hornecht, and
you, my lad, will comprehend my meaning later, when you become the
palm-tree the promise of your youth foretells. But we are losing time.
Who sent you to Hosea?"

The youth cast down his eyes irresolutely, but when the prophet broke the
silence with the query: "And what has become of the frankness you were
taught?" he responded promptly and resolutely:

"I came for the sake of a woman whom you know not."

"A woman?" the prophet repeated, casting an enquiring glance at Hornecht.
"When a bold warrior and a fair woman seek each other, the Hathors"--[The
Egyptian goddesses of love, who are frequently represented with cords in
their hands,]--are apt to appear and use the binding cords; but it does
not befit a servant of the divinity to witness such goings on, so I
forbear farther questioning. Take charge of the lad, captain, and aid him
to deliver his message to Hosea. The only doubt is whether he is in the
city."

"No," the soldier answered, "but he is expected with thousands of his men
at the armory to-day."

"Then may the Hathors, who are partial to love messengers, bring these
two together to-morrow at latest," said the priest.

But the lad indignantly retorted: "I am the bearer of no love message."

The prophet, pleased with the bold rejoinder, answered pleasantly: "I had
forgotten that I was accosting a young shepherd-prince." Then he added in
graver tones: "When you have found Hosea, greet him from me and tell him
that Bai, the second prophet of Amon sought to discharge a part of the
debt of gratitude he owed for his release from the hands of the Libyans
by extending his protection to you, his nephew. Perhaps, my brave boy,
you do not know that you have escaped as if by a miracle a double peril;
the savage populace would no more have spared your life than would the
stifling dust of the falling houses. Remember this, and tell Hosea also
from me, Bai, that I am sure when he beholds the woe wrought by the magic
arts of one of your race on the house of Pharaoh, to which he vowed
fealty, and with it on this city and the whole country, he will tear
himself with abhorrence from his kindred. They have fled like cowards,
after dealing the sorest blows, robbing of their dearest possessions
those among whom they dwelt in peace, whose protection they enjoyed, and
who for long years have given them work and ample food. All this they
have done and, if I know him aright, he will turn his back upon men who
have committed such crimes. Tell him also that this has been voluntarily
done by the Hebrew officers and men under the command of the Syrian
Aarsu. This very morning--Hosea will have heard the news from other
sources--they offered sacrifices not only to Baal and Seth, their own
gods, whom so many of you were ready to serve ere the accursed sorcerer,
Mesu, seduced you, but also to Father Amon and the sacred nine of our
eternal deities. If he will do the same, we will rise hand in hand to the
highest place, of that he may be sure--and well he merits it. The
obligation still due him I shall gratefully discharge in other ways,
which must for the present remain secret. But you may tell your uncle now
from me that I shall find means to protect Nun, his noble father, when
the vengeance of the gods and of Pharaoh falls upon the rest of your
race. Already--tell him this also--the sword is whetted, and a pitiless
judgment is impending. Bid him ask himself what fugitive shepherds can do
against the power of the army among whose ablest leaders he is numbered.
Is your father still alive, my son?"

"No, he was borne to his last resting-place long ago," replied the youth
in a faltering voice.

Was the fever of his wound attacking him? Or did the shame of belonging
to a race capable of acts so base overwhelm the young heart? Or did the
lad cling to his kindred, and was it wrath and resentment at hearing them
so bitterly reviled which made his color vary from red to pale and roused
such a tumult in his soul that he was scarcely capable of speech? No
matter! This lad was certainly no suitable bearer of the message the
prophet desired to send to his uncle, and Bai beckoned to Hornecht to
come with him under the shadow of a broad-limbed sycamore-tree.

The point was to secure Hosea's services in the army at any cost, so he
laid his hand on his friend's shoulder, saying:

"You know that it was my wife who won you and others over to our cause.
She serves us better and more eagerly than many a man, and while I
appreciate your daughter's beauty, she never tires of lauding the winning
charm of her innocence."

"And Kasana is to take part in the plot?" cried the soldier angrily.

"Not as an active worker, like my wife,--certainly not."

"She would be ill-suited to such a task," replied the other in a calmer
tone, "she is scarcely more than a child."

"Yet through her aid we might bring to our cause a man whose good-will
seems to me priceless."

"You mean Hosea?" asked the captain, his brow darkening again, but the
prophet added:

"And if I do? Is he still a real Hebrew? Can you deem it unworthy the
daughter of a distinguished warrior to bestow her band on a man who, if
our plans prosper, will be commander-in-chief of all the troops in the
land?"

"No, my lord!" cried Hornecht. "But one of my motives for rebelling
against Pharaoh and upholding Siptah is that the king's mother was a
foreigner, while our own blood courses through Siptah's veins. The mother
decides the race to which a man belongs, and Hosea's mother was a Hebrew
woman. He is my friend, I value his talents; Kasana likes him. . . ."

"Yet you desire a more distinguished son-in-law?" interrupted his
companion. "How is our arduous enterprise to prosper, if those who are to
peril their lives for its success consider the first sacrifice too great?
You say that your daughter favors Hosea?"

"Yes, she did care for him," the soldier answered; "yes, he was her
heart's desire. But I compelled her to obey me, and now that she is a
widow, am I to give her to the man whom--the gods alone know with how
much difficulty--I forced her to resign? When was such an act heard of in
Egypt?"

"Ever since the men and women who dwell by the Nile have submitted, for
the sake of a great cause, to demands opposed to their wishes," replied
the priest.

"Consider all this, and remember that Hosea's ancestress--he boasted of
it in your own presence--was an Egyptian, the daughter of a man of my own
class."

"How many generations have passed to the tomb since?"

"No matter! It brings us into closer relations with him. That must
suffice. Farewell until this evening. Meanwhile, will you extend your
hospitality to Hosea's nephew and commend him to your fair daughter's
nursing; he seems in sore need of care."




CHAPTER IV.

The house of Hornecht, like nearly every other dwelling in the city, was
the scene of the deepest mourning. The men had shaved their hair, and the
women had put dust on their foreheads. The archer's wife had died long
before, but his daughter and her women received him with waving veils and
loud lamentations; for the astrologer, his brother-in-law, had lost both
his first-born son and his grandson, and the plague had snatched its
victims from the homes of many a friend.

But the senseless youth soon demanded all the care the women could
bestow, and after bathing him and binding a healing ointment on the
dangerous wound in his head, strong wine and food were placed before him,
after which, refreshed and strengthened, he obeyed the summons of the
daughter of his host.

The dust-covered, worn-out fellow was transformed into a handsome youth.
His perfumed hair fell in long curling locks from beneath the fresh white
bandage, and gold-bordered Egyptian robes from the wardrobe of Kasana's
dead husband covered his pliant bronzed limbs. He seemed pleased with the
finery of his garments, which exhaled a subtle odor of spikenard new to
his senses; for the eyes in his handsome face sparkled brilliantly.

It was many a day since the captain's daughter, herself a woman of
unusual beauty and charm, had seen a handsomer youth. Within the year she
had married a man she did not love Kasana had returned a widow to her
father's house, which lacked a mistress, and the great wealth bequeathed
to her, at her husband's death, made it possible for her to bring into
the soldier's unpretending home the luxury and ease which to her had now
become a second nature.

Her father, a stern man prone to sudden fits of passion, now yielded
absolutely to her will. Formerly he had pitilessly enforced his own,
compelling the girl of fifteen to wed a man many years her senior. This
had been done because he perceived that Kasana had given her young heart
to Hosea, the soldier, and he deemed it beneath his dignity to receive
the Hebrew, who at that time held no prominent position in the army, as
his son-in-law. An Egyptian girl had no choice save to accept the husband
chosen by her father and Kasana submitted, though she shed so many bitter
tears that the archer rejoiced when, in obedience to his will, she had
wedded an unloved husband.

But even as a widow Kasana's heart clung to the Hebrew. When the army was
in the field her anxiety was ceaseless; day and night were spent in
restlessness and watching. When news came from the troops she asked only
about Hosea, and her father with deep annoyance attributed to her love
for the Hebrew her rejection of suitor after suitor. As a widow she had a
right to the bestowal of her own hand, and the tender, gentle-natured
woman astonished Hornecht by the resolute decision displayed, not alone
to him and lovers of her own rank, but to Prince Siptah, whose cause the
captain had espoused as his own.

To-day Kasana expressed her delight at the Hebrew's return with such
entire frankness and absence of reserve that the quick-tempered man
rushed out of the house lest he might be tempted into some thoughtless
act or word. His young guest was left to the care of his daughter and her
nurse.

How deeply the lad's sensitive nature was impressed by the airy rooms,
the open verandas supported by many pillars, the brilliant hues of the
painting, the artistic household utensils, the soft cushions, and the
sweet perfume everywhere! All these things were novel and strange to the
son of a herdsman who had always lived within the grey walls of a
spacious, but absolutely plain abode, and spent months together in canvas
tents among shepherds and flocks, nay was more accustomed to be in the
open air than under any shelter! He felt as though some wizard had borne
him into a higher and more beautiful world, where he was entirely at home
in his magnificent garb, with his perfumed curls and limbs fresh from the
bath. True, the whole earth was fair, even out in the pastures among the
flocks or round the fire in front of the tent in the cool of the evening,
when the shepherds sang, the hunters told tales of daring exploits, and
the stars sparkled brightly overhead.

But all these pleasures were preceded by weary, hateful labor; here it
was a delight merely to see and to breathe and, when the curtains parted
and the young widow, giving him a friendly greeting, made him sit down
opposite to her, sometimes questioning him and sometimes listening with
earnest sympathy to his replies, he almost imagined his senses had failed
him as they had done under the ruins of the fallen house, and he was
enjoying the sweetest of dreams. The feeling that threatened to stifle
him and frequently interrupted the flow of words was the rapture bestowed
upon him by great Aschera, the companion of Baal, of whom the Phoenician
traders who supplied the shepherds with many good things had told him
such marvels, and whom the stern Miriam forbade him ever to name at home.

His family had instilled into his young heart hatred of the Egyptians as
the oppressors of his race, but could they be so wicked, could he detest
a people among whom were creatures like this lovely, gentle woman, who
gazed into his eyes so softly, so tenderly, whose voice fell on his ear
like harmonious music, and whose glance made his blood course so swiftly
that he could scarce endure it and pressed his hand upon his heart to
quiet its wild pulsation.

Kasana sat opposite to him on a seat covered with a panther-skin, drawing
the fine wool from the distaff. He had pleased her and she had received
him kindly because he was related to the man whom she had loved from
childhood. She imagined that she could trace a resemblance between him
and Hosea, though the youth lacked the grave earnestness of the man to
whom she had yielded her young heart, she knew not why nor when, though
he had never sought her love.

A lotus blossom rested among her dark waving curls, and its stem fell in
a graceful curve on her bent neck, round which clustered a mass of soft
locks. When she lifted her eyes to his, he felt as though two springs had
opened to pour floods of bliss into his young breast, and he had already
clasped in greeting the dainty hand which held the yarn.

She now questioned him about Hosea and the woman who had sent the
message, whether she was young and fair and whether any tie of love bound
her to his uncle.

Ephraim laughed merrily. She who had sent him was so grave and earnest
that the bare thought of her being capable of any tender emotion wakened
his mirth. As to her beauty, he had never asked himself the question.

The young widow interpreted the laugh as the reply she most desired and,
much relieved, laid aside the spindle and invited Ephraim to go into the
garden.

How fragrant and full of bloom it was, how well-kept were the beds, the
paths, the arbors, and the pond.

His unpretending home adjoined a dreary yard, wholly unadorned and filled
with pens for sheep and cattle. Yet he knew that at some future day he
would be owner of great possessions, for he was the sole child and heir
of a wealthy father and his mother was the daughter of the rich Nun. The
men servants had told him this more than once, and it angered him to see
that his own home was scarcely better than Hornecht's slave-quarters, to
which Kasana had called his attention.

During their stroll through the garden Ephraim was asked to help her cull
the flowers and, when the basket he carried was filled, she invited him
to sit with her in a bower and aid her to twine the wreaths. These were
intended for the dear departed. Her uncle and a beloved cousin--who bore
some resemblance to Ephraim--had been snatched away the night before by
the plague which his people had brought upon Tanis.

From the street which adjoined the garden-wall they heard the wails of
women lamenting the dead or bearing a corpse to the tomb. Once, when the
cries of woe rose more loudly and clearly than ever, Kasana gently
reproached him for all that the people of Tanis had suffered through the
Hebrews, and asked if he could deny that the Egyptians had good reason to
hate a race which had brought such anguish upon them.

It was hard for Ephraim to find a fitting answer; he had been told that
the God of his race had punished the Egyptians to rescue his own people
from shame and bondage, and he could neither condemn nor scorn the men of
his own blood. So he kept silence that he might neither speak falsely nor
blaspheme; but Kasana allowed him no peace, and he at last replied that
aught which caused her sorrow was grief to him, but his people had no
power over life and health, and when a Hebrew was ill, he often sent for
an Egyptian physician. What had occurred was doubtless the will of the
great God of his fathers, whose power far surpassed the might of any
other deity. He himself was a Hebrew, yet she would surely believe his
assurance that he was guiltless of the plague and would gladly recall her
uncle and cousin to life, had he the power to do so. For her sake he
would undertake the most difficult enterprise.

She smiled kindly and replied:

"My poor boy! If I see any guilt in you, it is only that you are one of a
race which knows no ruth, no patience. Our beloved, hapless dead! They
must even lose the lamentations of their kindred; for the house where
they rest is plague-stricken and no one is permitted to enter."

She silently wiped her eyes and went on arranging her garlands, but tear
after tear coursed down her cheeks.

Ephraim knew not what to say, and mutely handed her the leaves and
blossoms. Whenever his hand touched hers a thrill ran through his veins.
His head and the wound began to ache, and he sometimes felt a slight
chill. He knew that the fever was increasing, as it had done once before
when he nearly lost his life in the red disease; but he was ashamed to
own it and battled bravely against his pain.

When the sun was nearing the horizon Hornecht entered the garden. He had
already seen Hosea, and though heartily glad to greet his old friend once
more, it had vexed him that the soldier's first enquiry was for his
daughter. He did not withhold this from the young widow, but his flashing
eyes betrayed the displeasure with which he delivered the Hebrew's
message. Then, turning to Ephraim, he told him that Hosea and his men
would encamp outside of the city, pitching their tents, on account of the
pestilence, between Tanis and the sea. They would soon march by. His
uncle sent Ephraim word that he must seek him in his tent.

When he noticed that the youth was aiding his daughter to weave the
garlands, he smiled, and said:

"Only this morning this young fellow declared his intention of remaining
free and a ruler all his life. Now he has taken service with you, Kasana.
You need not blush, young friend. If either your mistress or your uncle
can persuade you to join us and embrace the noblest trade--that of the
soldier--so much the better for you. Look at me! I've wielded the bow
more than forty years and still rejoice in my profession. I must obey, it
is true, but it is also my privilege to command, and the thousands who
obey me are not sheep and cattle, but brave men. Consider the matter
again. He would make a splendid leader of the archers. What say you,
Kasana?"

"Certainly," replied the young widow. And she was about to say more, but
the regular tramp of approaching troops was heard on the other side of
the garden-wall. A slight flush crimsoned Kasana's cheeks, her eyes
sparkled with a light that startled Ephraim and, regardless of her father
or her guest, she darted past the pond, across paths and flower-beds, to
a grassy bank beside the wall, whence she gazed eagerly toward the road
and the armed host which soon marched by.

Hosea, in full armor, headed his men. As he passed Hornecht's garden he
turned his grave head, and seeing Kasana lowered his battle-axe in
friendly salutation.

Ephraim had followed the captain of the archers, who pointed out the
youth's uncle, saying: "Shining armor would become you also, and when
drums are beating, pipes squeaking shrilly, and banners waving, a man
marches as lightly as if he had wings. To-day the martial music is hushed
by the terrible woe brought upon us by that Hebrew villain. True, Hosea
is one of his race yet, though I cannot forget that fact, I must admit
that he is a genuine soldier, a model for the rising generation. Tell him
what I think of him on this score. Now bid farewell to Kasana quickly and
follow the men; the little side-door in the wall is open." He turned
towards the house as he spoke, and Ephraim held out his hand to bid the
young widow farewell.

She clasped it, but hurriedly withdrew her own, exclaiming anxiously:
"How burning hot your hand is! You have a fever!"

"No, no," faltered the youth, but even while speaking he fell upon his