sparkling eyes, leaned one on the other and, without any prompting, began
the hymn of praise of the sons of Korah, the old woman's faint voice
mingling with touching fervor with the tones of the girl, whose harsh
notes thrilled with the loftiest enthusiasm.

Hosea felt that it would be criminal to interrupt the outpouring of these
earnest hearts, but Eliab soon stopped them and gazed with evident
anxiety into the stern face of his lord's first-born son.

Had Hosea understood him?

Did this warrior, who served under Pharaoh's banner, realize how entirely
the Lord God Himself had ruled the souls of his people at their
departure.

Had the life among the Egyptians so estranged him from his people and his
God, rendered him so degenerate, that he would bid defiance to the wishes
and commands of his own father?

Was the man on whom the Hebrews' highest hopes were fixed a renegade,
forever lost to his people?

He received no verbal answer to these mute questions, but when Hosea
grasped his callous right hand in both his own and pressed it as he would
have clasped a friend's, when he bade him farewell with tearful eyes,
murmuring: "You shall hear from me!" he felt that he knew enough and,
overwhelmed with passionate delight, he pressed kiss after kiss upon the
warrior's arms and clothing.




CHAPTER VII.

Hosea returned to the camp with drooping head. The conflict in his soul
was at an end. He now knew what duty required. He must obey his father's
summons.

And the God of his race!

The old man's tale had given new life to the memories of his childhood,
and he now knew that He was not the same God as the Seth of the Asiatics
in Lower Egypt, nor the "One" and the "Sum of All" of the adepts.

The prayers he had uttered ere he fell asleep, the history of the
creation of the world, which he could never hear sufficiently often,
because it showed so clearly the gradual development of everything on
earth and in heaven until man came to possess and enjoy all, the story of
Abraham and Isaac, of Jacob, Esau, and his own ancestor, Joseph--how
gladly he had listened to these tales as they fell from the lips of the
gentle woman who had given him life, and from those of his nurse, and his
grandfather Elishama. Yet he imagined that they had faded from his memory
long ago.

But in old Eliab's hovel he could have repeated the stories word for
word, and he now knew that there was indeed one invisible, omnipotent
God, who had preferred his race above all others, and had promised to
make them a mighty people.

The truths concealed by the Egyptians under the greatest mystery were the
common property of his race. Every beggar, every slave might raise his
hands in supplication to the one invisible God who had revealed Himself
unto Abraham.

Shrewd Egyptians, who had divined His existence and shrouded His image
with monstrous shapes, born of their own thoughts and imaginations, had
drawn a thick veil over Him, hidden Him from the masses. Among the
Hebrews alone did He really live and display His power in all its mighty,
heart-stirring grandeur.

He was not nature, with whom the initiated in the temples confounded Him.
No, the God of his fathers was far above all created things and the whole
visible universe, far above man, His last, most perfect work, whom He had
formed in His own image; and every living creature was subject to His
will. The Mightiest of Kings, He ruled the universe with stern justice,
and though He withdrew Himself from the sight and understanding of man,
His image, He was nevertheless a living, thinking, moving Being, though
His span of existence was eternity, His mind omniscience, His sphere of
sovereignty infinitude.

And this God had made Himself the leader of His people! There was no
warrior who could venture to cope with His might. If the spirit of
prophecy had not deceived Miriam, and the Lord had indeed commanded Hosea
to wield His sword, how dared he resist, what higher position could earth
offer? And his people? The rabble of whom he had thought so scornfully,
what a transformation seemed to have been wrought in them by the power of
the Most High, since he had listened to old Eliab's tale! Now he longed
to be their leader, and midway to the camp he paused on a sand-hill,
whence he could see the limitless expanse of the sea shimmering under the
sheen of the twinkling stars of heaven, and for the first time in many a
long, long year, he raised his arms and eyes to the God whom he had found
once more.

He began with a little prayer his mother had taught him; then he cried
out to the Almighty as to a powerful counselor, imploring him with
fervent zeal to point out the way in which he should walk without being
disobedient to Him or to his father, or breaking the oath he had sworn to
Pharaoh and becoming a dishonored man in the eyes of those to whom he
owed so great a debt of gratitude.

"Thy chosen people praise Thee as the God of Truth, Who dost punish those
who forswear their oaths," he prayed. "How canst Thou command me to be
faithless and break the vow that I have made. Whatever I am, whatever I
may accomplish, belongs to Thee, Oh Mighty Lord, and I am ready to devote
my blood, my life to my people. But rather than render me a dishonored
and perjured man, take me away from earth and commit the work which Thou
hast chosen Thy servant to perform, to the hands of one who is bound by
no solemn oath."

So he prayed, and it seemed as if he clasped in his embrace a long-lost
friend. Then he walked on in silence through the vanishing dusk, and when
the first grey light of morning dawned, the flood of feeling ebbed, and
the clear-headed warrior regained his calmness of thought.

He had vowed to do nothing against the will of his father or his God, but
he was no less firmly resolved to be neither perjurer nor renegade. His
duty was clear and plain. He must leave Pharaoh's service, first telling
his superiors that, as a dutiful son, he must obey his father's commands,
and share his fate and that of his people.

Yet he did not conceal from himself that his request might be refused,
that he might be detained by force, nay, perchance, if he insisted on
carrying out his purpose with unshaken will, he might be menaced with
death, or if the worst should come, even delivered over to the
executioner. But if this should be his doom, if his purpose cost him his
life, he would still have done what was right, and his comrades, whose
esteem he valued, could still think of him as a brave brother-in-arms.
Nor would his father and Miriam be angry with him, nay, they would mourn
the faithful son, the upright man, who chose death rather than dishonor.

Calm and resolute, he gave the pass-word with haughty bearing to the
sentinel and entered his tent. Ephraim was still lying on his couch,
smiling as if under the thrall of pleasant dreams. Hosea threw himself on
a mat beside him to seek strength for the hard duties of the coming day.
Soon his eyes closed, too, and, after an hour's sound sleep, he woke
without being roused and called for his holiday attire, his helmet, and
the gilt coat-of-mail he wore at great festivals or in the presence of
Egypt's king.

Meantime Ephraim, too, awoke, looked with mingled curiosity and delight
at his uncle, who stood before him in all the splendor of his manhood and
glittering panoply of war, and exclaimed:

"It must be a proud feeling to wear such garments and lead thousands to
battle."

Hosea shrugged his shoulders and replied:

"Obey thy God, give no man, from the loftiest to the lowliest, a right to
regard you save with respect, and you can hold your head as high as the
proudest warrior who ever wore purple robe and golden armor."

"But you have done great deeds among the Egyptians," Ephraim continued.
"They hold you in high regard; even captain Homecht and his daughter,
Kasana."

"Do they?" asked the soldier smiling, and then bid his nephew keep quiet;
for his brow, though less fevered than the night before, was still
burning.

"Don't go into the open air until the leech has seen you," Hosea added,
"and wait here till my return."

"Shall you be absent long?" asked the lad.

Hosea paused for a moment, lost in thought then, with a kindly glance at
him answered, gravely "Whoever serves a master knows not how long he may
be detained." Then, changing his tone, he continued less earnestly.
"To-day--this morning--perchance I may finish my business speedily and
return in a few hours. If not, if I do not come back to you this evening
or early to-morrow morning, then. . . . " he laid his hand on the lad's
shoulder as he spoke "then go home at your utmost speed. When you reach
Succoth, if the people have gone before your coming, you will find in the
hollow sycamore before Amminadab's house a letter which will tell you
whither they have turned their steps. When you overtake them, give my
greetings to my father, to my grandfather Elishama, and to Miriam. Tell
them that Hosea will be mindful of the commands of his God and of his
father. In future he will call himself Joshua--Joshua, do you hear? Tell
this to Miriam first. Finally, tell them that if I remain behind and am
not suffered to follow them, as I would like to, that the Most High has
made a different disposal of His servant and has broken the sword which
He had chosen, ere He used it. Do you understand me, boy?"

Ephraim nodded, and answered:

"You mean that death alone can stay you from obeying the summons of God,
and your father's command."

"Ay, that was my meaning," replied the chief. "If they ask why I did not
slip away from Pharaoh and escape his power, say that Hosea desired to
enter on his new office as a true man, unstained by perjury or, if it is
the will of God, to die one. Now repeat the message."

Ephraim obeyed; his uncle's remarks must have sunk deep into his soul;
for he neither forgot nor altered a single word. But scarcely had he
performed the task of repetition when, with impetuous earnestness, he
grasped Hosea's hand and besought him to tell him whether he had any
cause to fear for his life.

The warrior clasped him affectionately in his arms and answered that he
hoped he had entrusted this message to him only to have it forgotten.
"Perhaps," he added, "they will strive to keep me by force, but by God's
help I shall soon be with you again, and we will ride to Succoth
together."

With these words he hurried out, unheeding the questions his nephew
called after him; for he had heard the rattle of wheels outside. Two
chariots, drawn by mettled steeds, rapidly approached the tent and
stopped directly before the entrance.




CHAPTER VIII.

The men who stepped from the chariots were old acquaintances of Hosea.
They were the head chamberlain and one of the king's chief scribes, come
to summon him to the Sublime Porte.

[Palace of the king. The name of Pharaoh means "the Sublime
Porte."]

No hesitation nor escape was possible, and Hosea, feeling more surprise
than anxiety, entered the second chariot with the chief scribe. Both
officials wore mourning robes, and instead of the white ostrich plume,
the insignia of office, black ones waved over the temples of both. The
horses and runners of the two-wheeled chariots were also decked with all
the emblems of the deepest woe. And yet the monarch's messengers seemed
cheerful rather than depressed; for the eagle they were to bear to
Pharaoh was ready to obey his behest, and they had feared that they would
find his eyrie abandoned.

Swift as the wind the long-limbed bays of royal breed bore the light
vehicles over the uneven sandy road and the smooth highway toward the
palace.

Ephraim, with the curiosity of youth, had gone out of the tent to view a
scene so novel to his eyes. The soldiers were pleased by the Pharaoh's
sending his own carriage for their commander, and the lad's vanity was
flattered to see his uncle drive away in such state. But he was not
permitted the pleasure of watching him long; dense clouds of dust soon
hid the vehicles.

The scorching desert wind which, during the Spring months, so often blows
through the valley of the Nile, had risen, and though the bright blue sky
which had been visible by night and day was still cloudless, it was
veiled by a whitish mist.

The sun, a motionless ball, glared down on the heads of men like a blind
man's eye. The burning heat it diffused seemed to have consumed its rays,
which to-day were invisible. The eye protected by the mist could gaze at
it undazzled, yet its scorching power was undiminished. The light breeze,
which usually fanned the brow in the morning, touched it now like the hot
breath of a ravening beast of prey. Loaded with the fine scorching sand
borne from the desert, it transformed the pleasure of breathing into a
painful torture. The air of an Egyptian March morning, which was wont to
be so balmy, now oppressed both man and beast, choking their lungs and
seeming to weigh upon them like a burden destroying all joy in life.

The higher the pale rayless globe mounted into the sky, the greyer became
the fog, the more densely and swiftly blew the sand-clouds from the
desert.

Ephraim was still standing in front of the tent, gazing at the spot where
Pharaoh's chariots had disappeared. His knees trembled, but he attributed
it to the wind sent by Seth-Typhon, at whose blowing even the strongest
felt an invisible burden clinging to their feet.

Hosea had gone, but he might come back in a few hours, then he, Ephraim,
would be obliged to go with him to Succoth, and the bright dreams and
hopes which yesterday had bestowed and whose magical charms were
heightened by his fevered brain, would be lost to him forever.

During the night he had firmly resolved to enter Pharaoh's army, that he
might remain near Tanis and Kasana; but though he had only half
comprehended Hosea's message, he could plainly discern that he intended
to turn his back upon Egypt and his high position and meant to take
Ephraim with him, should he make his escape. So he must renounce his
longing to see Kasana once more. But this thought was unbearable and an
inward voice whispered that, having neither father nor mother, he was
free to act according to his own will. His guardian, his dead father's
brother, in whose household he had grown up, had died not long before,
and no new guardian had been named because the lad was now past
childhood. He was destined at some future day to be one of the chiefs of
his proud tribe and until yesterday he had desired no better fate.

He had obeyed the impulse of his heart when, with the pride of a shepherd
prince, he had refused the priest's suggestion that he should become one
of Pharaoh's soldiers, but he now told himself that he had been childish
and foolish to reject a thing of which he was ignorant, nay, which had
ever been intentionally represented to him in a false and hateful light
in order to bind him more firmly to his own people.

The Egyptians had always been described as detestable enemies and
oppressors, yet how enchanting everything seemed in the house of the
first Egyptian warrior he had entered.

And Kasana!

What must she think of him, if he left Tanis without a word of greeting,
of farewell. Must it not grieve and wound him to remain in her memory a
clumsy peasant shepherd? Nay, it would be positively dishonest not to
return the costly raiment she had lent him. Gratitude was reckoned among
the Hebrews also as the first duty of noble hearts. He would be worthy of
hate his whole life long, if he did not seek her once more!

But there was need of haste. When Hosea returned, he must find him ready
for departure.

He at once began to bind his sandals on his feet, but he did it slowly,
and could not understand why the task seemed so hard to-day.

He passed through the camp unmolested. The pylons and obelisks before the
temples, which appeared to quiver in the heated air, marked the direction
he was to pursue, and he soon reached the broad road which led to the
market-place--a panting merchant whose ass was bearing skins of wine to
the troops, told him the way.

Dense clouds of dust lay on the road and whirled around him, the sun beat
fiercely down on his bare head, his wound began to ache again, the fine
sand which filled the air entered his eyes and mouth and stung his face
and bare limbs like burning needles. He was tortured by thirst and was
often compelled to stop, his feet grew so heavy. At last he reached a
well dug for travelers by a pious Egyptian, and though it was adorned
with the image of a god and Miriam had taught him that this was an
abomination from which he should turn aside, he drank again and again,
thinking he had never tasted aught so refreshing.

The fear of losing consciousness, as he had done the day before, passed
away and, though his feet were still heavy, he walked rapidly toward the
alluring goal. But soon his strength again deserted him, the sweat poured
from his brow, his wound began to throb and beat, and he felt as though
his skull was compressed by an iron circle. His keen eyes, too, failed,
for the objects he tried to see blended with the dust of the road, the
horizon reeled up and down before his eyes, and he felt as though the
hard pavement had turned to a yielding bog under his feet.

Yet he took little heed of all these things, for never before had such
bright visions filled his mind. His thoughts grew marvellously vivid, and
image after image rose before the wide eyes of his soul, not at his own
behest, but as if summoned by a secret will outside of his consciousness.
Now he fancied that he was lying at Kasana's feet, resting his head on
her lap while he gazed upward into her lovely face--anon he saw Hosea
standing before him in his glittering armor, as he had beheld him a short
time ago, only his garb was still more gorgeous and, instead of the dim
light in the tent, a ruddy glow like that of fire surrounded him. Then
the finest oxen and rams in his herds passed before him and sentences
from the messages he had learned darted through his mind; nay he
sometimes imagined that they were being shouted to him aloud. But ere he
could grasp their import, some new dazzling vision or loud rushing noise
seemed to fill his mental eye and ear.

He pressed onward, staggering like a drunken man, with drops of sweat
standing on his brow and with parched mouth. Sometimes he unconsciously
raised his hand to wipe the dust from his burning eyes, but he cared
little that he saw very indistinctly what was passing around him, for
there could be nothing more beautiful than what he beheld with his inward
vision.

True, he was often aware that he was suffering intensely, and he longed
to throw himself exhausted on the ground, but a strange sense of
happiness sustained him. At last he was seized with the delusion that his
head was swelling and growing till it attained the size of the head of
the colossus he had seen the day before in front of a temple gate, then
it rose to the height of the palm-trees by the road-side, and finally it
reached the mist shrouding the firmament, then far above it. Then it
suddenly seemed as though this head of his was as large as the whole
world, and he pressed his hands on his temples to clasp his brow; for his
neck and shoulders were too weak to support the weight of so enormous a
head and, mastered by this strange delusion, he shrieked aloud, his
shaking knees gave way, and he fell unconscious in the dust.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Hate, though never sated, can yet be gratified
Omnipotent God, who had preferred his race above all others
When hate and revenge speak, gratitude shrinks timidly
Who can prop another's house when his own is falling




JOSHUA

By Georg Ebers

Volume 2.




CHAPTER IX.

At the same hour a chamberlain was ushering Hosea into the audience
chamber.

Usually subjects summoned to the presence of the king were kept waiting
for hours, but the Hebrew's patience was not tried long. During this
period of the deepest mourning the spacious rooms of the palace, commonly
tenanted by a gay and noisy multitude, were hushed to the stillness of
death; for not only the slaves and warders, but many men and women in
close attendance on the royal couple had fled from the pestilence,
quitting the palace without leave.

Here and there a solitary priest, official, or courtier leaned against a
pillar or crouched on the floor, hiding his face in his hands, while
awaiting some order. Sentries paced to and fro with lowered weapons, lost
in melancholy thoughts. Now and then a few young priests in mourning
robes glided through the infected rooms, silently swinging silver censers
which diffused a pungent scent of resin and juniper.

A nightmare seemed to weigh upon the palace and its occupants; for in
addition to grief for their beloved prince, which saddened many a heart,
the dread of death and the desert wind paralyzed alike the energy of mind
and body.

Here in the immediate vicinity of the throne where, in former days, all
eyes had sparkled with hope, ambition, gratitude, fear, loyalty, or hate,
Hosea now encountered only drooping heads and downcast looks.

Bai, the second prophet of Amon, alone seemed untouched alike by sorrow,
anxiety, or the enervating atmosphere of the day; he greeted the warrior
in the ante-room as vigorously and cheerily as ever, and assured
him--though in the lowest whisper--that no one thought of holding him
responsible for the misdeeds of his people. But when Hosea volunteered
the acknowledgment that, at the moment of his summons to the king, he had
been in the act of going to the commander-in-chief to beg a release from
military service, the priest interrupted him to remind him of the debt of
gratitude he, Bai, owed to him as the preserver of his life. Then he
added that he would make every effort in his power to keep him in the
army and show that the Egyptians--even against Pharaoh's will, or which
he would speak farther with him privately--knew how to honor genuine
merit without distinction of person or birth.

The Hebrew had little time to repeat his resolve; the head chamberlain
interrupted them to lead Hosea into the presence of the "good god."

The sovereign awaited Hosea in the smaller audience-room adjoining the
royal apartments.

It was a stately chamber, and to-day looked more spacious than when, as
of yore, it was filled with obsequious throngs. Only a few courtiers and
priests, with some of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, all clad in deep
mourning, stood in groups near the throne. Opposite to Pharaoh, squatting
in a circle on the floor, were the king's councillors and interpreters,
each adorned with an ostrich plume.

All wore tokens of mourning, and the monotonous, piteous plaint of the
wailing women, which ever and anon rose into a loud, shrill, tremulous
shriek, echoed through the silent rooms within to this hall, announcing
that death had claimed a victim even in the royal dwelling.

The king and queen sat on a gold and ivory couch, heavily draped with
black. Instead of their usual splendid attire, both wore dark robes, and
the royal consort and mother, who mourned her first-born son, leaned
motionless, with drooping head, against her kingly husband's shoulder.

Pharaoh, too, gazed fixedly into space, as though lost in a dream. The
sceptre had slipped from his hand and lay in his lap.

The queen had been torn away from the corpse of her son, which was now
delivered to the embalmers, and it was not until she reached the entrance
of the audience-chamber that she had succeeded in checking her tears. She
had no thought of resistance; the inexorable ceremonial of court
etiquette required the queen to be present at any audience of importance.
To-day she would gladly have shunned the task, but Pharaoh had commanded
her presence, and she knew and approved the course to be pursued; for she
was full of dread of the power of the Hebrew Mesu, called by his own
people Moses, and of his God, who had brought such terrible woe on the
Egyptians. She had other children to lose, and she had known Mesu from
her childhood, and was well aware how highly the great Rameses, her
husband's father and predecessor, had prized the wisdom of this stranger
who had been reared with his own sons.

Ah, if it were only possible to conciliate this man. But Mesu had
departed with the Israelites, and she knew his iron will and had learned
that the terrible prophet was armed, not alone against Pharaoh's threats,
but also against her own fervent entreaties.

She was now expecting Hosea. He, the son of Nun, the foremost man of all
the Hebrews in Tanis, would succeed, if any one could, in carrying out
the plan which she and her royal husband deemed best for all parties,--a
plan supported also by Rui, the hoary high-priest and first prophet of
Amon, the head of the whole Egyptian priesthood, who held the offices of
chief judge, chief treasurer, and viceroy of the kingdom, and had
followed the court from Thebes to Tanis.

Ere going to the audience hall, she had been twining wreaths for her
loved dead and the lotus flowers, larkspurs, mallow and willow-leaves,
from which she was to weave them, had been brought there by her desire.
They were lying on a small table and in her lap; but she felt paralyzed,
and the hand she stretched toward them refused to obey her will.

Rui, the first prophet of Amon, an aged man long past his ninetieth
birthday, squatted on a mat at Pharaoh's left hand. A pair of bright
eyes, shaded by bushy white brows, glittered in his brown face--seamed
and wrinkled like the bark of a gnarled oaklike gay flowers amid withered
leaves, forming a strange contrast to his lean, bowed, and shrivelled
form.

The old man had long since resigned the management of business affairs to
the second prophet, Bai, but he held firmly to his honors, his seat at
Pharaoh's side, and his place in the council, where, though he said
little, his opinion was more frequently followed than that of the
eloquent, ardent second prophet, who was many years his junior.

The old man had not quitted Pharaoh's side since the plague entered the
palace, yet to-day he felt more vigorous than usual; the hot desert wind,
which weakened others, refreshed him. He was constantly shivering,
despite the panther-skin which hung over his back and shoulders, and the
heat of the day warmed his chilly old blood.

Moses, the Hebrew, had been his pupil, and never had he instructed a
nobler nature, a youth more richly endowed with all the gifts of
intellect. He had initiated the Israelite into all the highest mysteries,
anticipating the greatest results for Egypt and the priesthood, and when
the Hebrew one day slew an overseer who had mercilessly beaten one of his
race, and then fled into the desert, Rui had secretly mourned the evil
deed as if his own son had committed it and must suffer the consequences.
His intercession had secured Mesu's pardon; but when the latter returned
to Egypt and the change had occurred which other priests termed his
"apostasy," the old man had grieved even more keenly than over his
flight. Had he, Rui, been younger, he would have hated the man who had
thus robbed him of his fairest hopes; but the aged priest, who read men's
hearts like an open book and could judge the souls of his fellow-mortals
with the calm impartiality of an unclouded mind, confessed that he had
been to blame in failing to foresee his pupil's change of thought.

Education and precept had made Mesu an Egyptian priest according to his
own heart and that of the divinity; but after having once raised his hand
in the defence of his own people against those to whom he had been bound
only by human craft and human will, he was lost to the Egyptians and
became once more a true son of his race. And where this man of the strong
will and lofty soul led the way, others could not fail to follow.

Rui knew likewise full well what the renegade meant to give to his race;
he had confessed it himself to the priest-faith in the one God. Mesu had
rejected the accusation of perjury, declaring that he would never betray
the mysteries to the Hebrews, his sole desire was to lead them back to
the God whom they had worshipped ere Joseph and his family came to Egypt.
True, the "One" of the initiated resembled the God of the Hebrews in many
things, but this very fact had soothed the old sage; for experience had
taught him that the masses are not content with a single invisible God,
an idea which many, even among the more advanced of his own pupils found
difficult to comprehend. The men and women of the lower classes needed
visible symbols of every important thing whose influence they perceived
in and around them, and the Egyptian religion supplied these images. What
could an invisible creative power guiding the course of the universe be
to a love-sick girl? She sought the friendly Hathor, whose gentle hands
held the cords that bound heart to heart, the beautiful mighty
representative of her sex--to her she could trustingly pour forth all the
sorrows that burdened her bosom. What was the petty grief of a mother who
sought to snatch her darling child from death, to the mighty and
incomprehensible Deity who governed the entire universe? But the good
Isis, who herself had wept her eyes red in bitter anguish, could
understand her woe. And how often in Egypt it was the wife who determined
her husband's relations to the gods!

Rui had frequently seen Hebrew men and women praying fervently in
Egyptian temples. Even if Mesu should induce them to acknowledge his God,
the experienced sage clearly foresaw that they would speedily turn from
the invisible Spirit, who must ever remain aloof and incomprehensible,
and return by hundreds to the gods they understood.

Now Egypt was threatened with the loss of the laborers and builders she
so greatly needed, but Rui believed that they might be won back.

"When fair words will answer our purpose, put aside sword and bow," he
had replied to Bai, who demanded that the fugitives should be pursued and
slain. "We have already too many corpses in our country; what we want is
workers. Let us hold fast what we seem on the verge of losing."

These mild words were in full harmony with the mood of Pharaoh, who had
had sufficient sorrow, and would have thought it wiser to venture unarmed
into a lion's cage than to again defy the wrath of the terrible Hebrew.

So he had closed his ears to the exhortations of the second prophet,
whose steadfast, energetic will usually exercised all the greater
influence upon him on account of his own irresolution, and upheld old
Rui's suggestion that the warrior, Hosea, should be sent after his people
to deal with them in Pharaoh's name--a plan that soothed his mind and
renewed his hopes.

The second prophet, Bai, had finally assented to the plan; for it
afforded a new chance of undermining the throne he intended to overthrow.
If the Hebrews were once more settled in the land, Prince Siptah, who
regarded no punishment too severe for the race he hated, might perhaps
seize the sceptre of the cowardly king Menephtah.

But the fugitives must first be stopped, and Hosea was the right man to
do this. But in Bai's eyes no one would be more able to gain the
confidence of an unsuspicious soldier than Pharaoh and his royal consort.
The venerable high-priest Rui, though wholly unaware of the conspiracy,
shared this opinion, and thus the sovereigns had been persuaded to
interrupt the mourning for the dead and speak in person to the Hebrew.

Hosea had prostrated himself before the throne and, when he rose, the
king's weary face was bent toward him, sadly, it is true, yet graciously.

According to custom, the hair and beard of the father who had lost his
first-born son had been shaven. Formerly they had encircled his face in a
frame of glossy black, but twenty years of anxious government had made
them grey, and his figure, too, had lost its erect carriage and seemed
bent and feeble, though he had scarcely passed his fifth decade. His
regular features were still beautiful in their symmetry, and there was a
touch of pathos in their mournful gentleness, so evidently incapable of
any firm resolve, especially when a smile lent his mouth a bewitching
charm.

The languid indolence of his movements scarcely impaired the natural
dignity of his presence, yet his musical voice was wont to have a feeble,
beseeching tone. He was no born ruler; thirteen older brothers had died
ere the throne of Pharaoh had become his heritage, and up to early
manhood he had led a careless, joyous existence--as the handsomest youth
in the whole land, the darling of women, the light-hearted favorite of
fortune. Then he succeeded his father the great Rameses, but he had
scarcely grasped the sceptre ere the Libyans, with numerous allies,
rebelled against Egypt. The trained troops and their leaders, who had
fought in his predecessor's wars, gained him victory, but during the
twenty years which had now passed since Rameses' death, the soldiers had
rarely had any rest. Insurrections constantly occurred, sometimes in the
East, anon in the West and, instead of living in Thebes, where he had
spent many years of happiness, and following the bent of his inclination
by enjoying in the splendid palace the blessing of peace and the society
of the famous scholars and poets who then made that city their home, he
was compelled sometimes to lead his armies in the field, sometimes to
live in Tanis, the capital of Lower Egypt, to settle the disturbances of
the border land.

This was the desire of the venerable Rui, and the king willingly followed
his guidance. During the latter years of Rameses' reign, the temple at
Thebes, and with it the chief priest, had risen to power and wealth
greater than that possessed by royalty itself, and Menephtah's indolent
nature was better suited to be a tool than a guiding hand, so long as he
received all the external honors due to Pharaoh. These he guarded with a
determination which he never roused himself to display in matters of
graver import.

The condescending graciousness of Pharaoh's reception awakened feelings
of mingled pleasure and distrust in Hosea's mind, but he summoned courage
to frankly express his desire to be relieved from his office and the oath
he had sworn to his sovereign.

Pharaoh listened quietly. Not until Hosea confessed that he was induced
to take this step by his father's command did he beckon to the
high-priest, who began in low, almost inaudible tones:

"The son who resigns great things to remain obedient to his father will
be the most loyal of the 'good god's' servants. Go, obey the summons of
Nun. The son of the sun, the Lord of Upper and Lower Egypt, sets you
free; but through me, the slave of his master, he imposes one condition."

"What is that?" asked Hosea.

Pharaoh signed to Rui a second time and, as the monarch sank back upon
his throne, the old man, fixing his keen eyes on Hosea, replied:

"The demand which the lord of both worlds makes upon you by my lips is
easy to fulfil. You must return to be once more his servant and one of
us, as soon as your people and their leader, who have brought such
terrible woe upon this land, shall have clasped the divine hand which the
son of the sun extends to them in reconciliation, and shall have returned
to the beneficent shadow of his throne. He intends to attach them to his
person and his realm by rich tokens of his favor, as soon as they return
from the desert to which they have gone forth to sacrifice to their God.
Understand me fully! All the burdens which have oppressed the people of
your race shall be removed. The 'great god' will secure to them, by a new
law, privileges and great freedom, and whatever we promise shall be
written down and witnessed on our part and yours as a new and valid
covenant binding on our children and our children's children. When such a
compact has been made with an honest purpose on our part to keep it for
all time, and your tribes have consented to accept it, will you promise
that you will then be one of us again?"

"Accept the office of mediator, Hosea," the queen here interrupted in a
low tone, with her sorrowful eyes fixed imploringly on Hosea's face. "I
dread the fury of Mesu, and everything in our power shall be done to