make great sacrifices in leaving the place where his work was so much
praised and his own house in Memphis. The blessing of the Most High will
not fail him. But for the very reason that he has hitherto obeyed the
command, he must not now seek to destroy what we have commenced under the
guidance of the Most High. To you, Gabriel, I answer that my son probably
will not tarry among our foes, but obedient to my summons, will join us,
like Uri, the first-born of Hur. What still detains him is doubtless some
important matter of which Hosea will have as little cause to be ashamed
as I, his father. I know and trust him, and whoever expects aught else
will sooner or later, by my son's course of action, be proved a liar."

Here he paused to push his white hair back from his burning brow and, as
no one contradicted him, he turned to the worker in metals, and added
with cordial friendliness:

"What angered me, Uri, was certainly not your purpose. That is a good
one; but you have measured the greatness and majesty of the God of our
fathers by the standard of the false gods of the Egyptians, who die and
rise again and, as Aaron has just said, represent only minor attributes
of Him who is in all and transcends everything. To serve God, until Moses
taught me a better counsel, I deemed meant to sacrifice an ox, a lamb, or
a goose upon the altar like the Egyptians; but your eyes, as befell me
through Moses, will not be opened to Him who rules the world and has made
us His people, until, like me, you, and all of us, and probably my son
also, shall each have kindled in his own breast the sacrificial fire
which never goes out and consumes everything that does not relate to Him
in love and loyalty, faith and reverence. Through Moses, His servant, God
has promised us the greatest blessings--deliverance from bondage, the
privilege of ruling on our own land as free men in a beautiful country,
our own possession and the heritage of our children. We are going forth
to receive His gift, and whoever seeks to stop us on our way, whoever
urges us to turn and creep back into the net whose brazen meshes we have
burst, advises his people to run once more like sheep into the fire from
which they have escaped. I am not angry with you; your face shows that
you perceive how foolishly you have erred; but all ye who are here must
know that I heard only a few hours ago from Moses' own lips these words:
'Whoever counsels return and the making of covenants with the Egyptians,
I will denounce as a scorner of Jehovah our God, and the destroyer and
worst foe of his people!'"

Uri went to the old man, gave him his hand, and deeply convinced of the
justice of his reproaches, exclaimed: "No treaty, no covenant with the
Egyptians! I am grateful to you, Nun, for opening my eyes. To me, also,
the hour will doubtless come in which you, or some one who stands nearer
to Him than I, will teach me to know your God, who is also mine."

As he ceased speaking, he went away with Nun, who put his arm around his
shoulders; but Miriam had listened breathlessly to Uri's last words, and
as he expressed a desire to know the God of his people, her eyes had
sparkled with the light of enthusiasm. She felt that her soul was filled
with the greatness of the Most High and that she had the gift of speech
to make another familiar with the knowledge she herself possessed. But
this time also custom required her to keep silence. Her heart ached, and
as she again moved among the multitude and convinced herself that Hosea
had not yet come, she went home, as twilight was beginning to gather, and
joined the others on the roof.

No one there appeared to have missed her, not even poor melancholy
Milcah, and she felt unutterably lonely in this house.

If Hosea would only come, if she might have a strong breast on which to
lean, if this sense of being a stranger in her own home, this useless
life beneath the roof she was obliged to call hers, though she never felt
thoroughly at home under it, would but cease. Moses and Aaron, too, had
gone away, taking Hur's grandson with them; but no one had deemed her,
who lived and breathed solely for her people and their welfare, worthy to
learn whither their journey led or what was its purpose.

Why had the God to whom she devoted her whole life and being made her a
woman, yet given her the mind and soul of a man?

She waited, as if to test whether any of the circle of kindly-natured
people to which she belonged really loved her, for some one of the elders
or the children to accost her; but Eleasar's little ones were pressing
around their grandparents, and she had never understood how to make
herself agreeable to children. Elisheba was directing the slaves who were
putting the finishing touches to the packing; Milcah sat with her cat in
her lap, gazing into vacancy. No one heeded or spoke to her.

Bitter pain overpowered Miriam, and after she had shared the evening meal
with the others, and forced herself not to disturb by her own sorrowful
mood, the joyous excitement of the children, who looked forward to the
pilgrimage as a great pleasure, she longed to go out of doors.

Closely veiled, she passed alone through the camp and what she beheld
there was certainly ill-suited to dispel the mood that oppressed her.
There was plenty of noise, and though sometimes devout hymns, full of joy
and hope, echoed on the air, she heard far more frequently savage
quarrelling and rebellious words. When her ear caught threats or
reproaches levelled against her noble brother, she quickened her pace,
but she could not escape her anxiety concerning what would happen at the
departure after sunrise on the morrow, should the malcontents obtain
supremacy.

She knew that the people would be forced to press forward; but her dread
of Pharaoh's military power had never permitted her to be at peace--to
her it was as it were embodied in Hosea's heroic figure. If the Lord
Himself did not fight in the ranks of the wretched bondmen and shepherds
who were quarrelling and disputing around her, how were they to withstand
the well-trained and equipped hosts of the Egyptians, with their horses
and chariots?

She had heard that guards had been posted in all parts of the camp, with
orders to sound the horn or strike the cymbal at the approach of the foe,
until the men had flocked to the spot whence the warning first echoed.

She had long listened for such an alarm, yet how much more intently for
the hoof-beats of a single steed, the firm step and deep voice of the
warrior for whom she yearned. On his account she constantly returned to
the northern part of the camp which adjoined the road coming from Tanis
and where now, at Moses' bidding, the tents of most of the men capable of
bearing arms were pitched. Here she had hoped to find true confidence;
but as she listened to the talk of the armed soldiers who surrounded the
camp-fires in dense circles, she heard that Uri's proposal had reached
them also. Most of them were husbands and fathers, had left behind a
house, a bit of land, a business, or an office, and though many spoke of
the command of the Most High and the beautiful new home God had promised,
not a few were disposed to return. How gladly she would have gone among
these blinded mortals and exhorted them to obey with fresh faith and
confidence the command of the Lord and of her brother. But here, too, she
was forced to keep silence. She was permitted to listen only, and she was
most strongly attracted to the very places where she might expect to hear
rebellious words and proposals.

There was a mysterious charm in this cruel excitement and she felt as if
she were deprived of something desirable when many a fire was
extinguished, the soldiers went to sleep, and conversation ceased.

She now turned for the last time toward the road leading from Tanis; but
nothing was stirring there save the sentries pacing to and fro.

She had not yet doubted Hosea's coming; for the summons she had sent to
him in the name of the Lord had undoubtedly reached him; but now that the
stars showed her it was past midnight, the thought came vividly before
her mind of the many years he had spent among the Egyptians, and that he
might perhaps deem it unworthy of a man to obey the call of a woman, even
if she uplifted her voice in the name of the Most High. She had
experienced humiliations enough that day, why should not this be decreed
also?




CHAPTER XIV

Deeply disturbed and tortured by such thoughts, Miriam walked toward
Amminadab's house to seek repose; but just as she was in the act of
crossing the threshold, she paused and again listened for sounds coming
from the north.

Hosea must arrive from that direction.

But she heard nothing save the footsteps of a sentinel and the voice of
Hur, who was patrolling the camp with a body of armed men.

He, too, had been unable to stay in the house.

The night was mild and starry, the time seemed just suited for dreams
under the sycamore. Her bench beneath the venerable tree was empty, and
with drooping head she approached the beloved resting-place, which she
must leave forever on the morrow.

But ere she had reached the spot so close at hand, she paused with her
figure drawn up to its full height and her hand pressed upon her
throbbing bosom. This time she was not mistaken, the beat of hoofs echoed
on the air, and it came from the north.

Were Pharaoh's chariots approaching to attack the camp? Should she shout
to wake the warriors? Or could it be he whom she so longingly expected?
Yes, yes, yes! It was the tramp of a single steed, and must be a new
arrival; for there were loud voices in the tents, the dogs barked, and
shouts, questions, and answers came nearer and nearer with the rider.

It was Hosea, she felt sure. His riding alone through the night, released
from the bonds that united him to Pharaoh and his comrades in arms, was a
sign of his obedience! Love had steeled his will and quickened the pace
of his steed, and the gratitude of answering affection, the reward she
could bestow, should be withheld no longer. In her arms he should
blissfully perceive that he had resigned great possessions to obtain
something still fairer and sweeter! She felt as though the darkness
around had suddenly brightened into broad day, as her ear told her that
the approaching horseman was riding straight toward the house of her host
Amminadab. She now knew that he was obeying her summons, that he had come
to find her. Hosea was seeking her ere he went to his own father, who had
found shelter in the big empty house of his grandson, Ephraim.

He would gladly have dashed toward her at the swiftest pace of his steed,
but it would not do to ride rapidly through the camp. Ah, how long the
time seemed ere she at last saw the horseman, ere he swung himself to the
ground, and his companion flung the reins of the horse to a man who
followed him.

It was he, it was Hosea!

But his companion--she had recognized him distinctly and shrank a
little--his companion was Hur, the man who a few hours before had sought
her for his wife.

There stood her two suitors side by side in the starlight, illumined by
the glare of the pitch torches blazing beside the carts and household
utensils which had been packed for the morrow's journey.

The tall figure of the elder Hebrew towered over the sinewy form of the
warrior, and the shepherd prince bore himself no whit less erect than the
Egyptian hero. Both voices sounded earnest and manly, yet her lover's
seemed to Miriam stronger and deeper. They had now advanced so near that
she could understand their conversation.

Hur was telling the newcomer that Moses had gone on a reconnoitring
expedition, and Hosea was expressing his regret, because he had important
matters to discuss with him.

Then he must set out with the tribes the next morning, Hur replied, for
Moses intended to join them on the way.

Then he pointed to Amminadab's house, from which no ray of light gleamed
through the darkness, and asked Hosea to spend the remainder of the night
beneath his roof, as he probably would not wish yo disturb his aged
father at so late an hour.

Miriam saw her friend hesitate and gaze intently up to the women's
apartments and the roof of her host's house. Knowing what he sought, she
could no longer resist the impulse of her heart, but stepped forth from
the shadow of the sycamore and gave Hosea a cordial and tender welcome.

He, too, disdained to conceal the joy of his heart, and Hur stood beside
the reunited lovers, as they clasped each other's hands, and exchanged
greetings, at first mutely, then with warm words.

"I knew you would come!" cried the maiden, and Hosea answered with joyful
emotion.

"You might easily suppose so, oh Prophetess; for your own voice was among
those that summoned me here."

Then in a calmer tone, he added: "I hoped to find your brother also; I am
the bearer of a message of grave import to him, to us, and to the people.
I see that you, too, are ready to depart and should grieve to behold the
comfort of your aged hosts destroyed by hasty acts that may yet be
needless."

"What do you mean?" asked Hur, advancing a step nearer to the other. "I
mean," replied Hosea, "that if Moses persists in leading the tribes
eastward, much blood will flow uselessly to-morrow; for I learned at
Tanis that the garrison of Etham has been ordered to let no man pass,
still less the countless throng, whose magnitude surprised me as I rode
through the camp. I know Apu, who commands the fortifications and the
legions whom he leads. There would be a terrible, fruitless massacre of
our half-armed, untrained people, there would be--in short, I have urgent
business to discuss with Moses, urgent and immediate, to avert the
heaviest misfortune ere it is too late."

"What you fear has not escaped our notice," replied Hur, "and it is in
order to guard against this peril that Moses has set forth on a dangerous
quest."

"Whither?" asked Hosea.

"That is the secret of the leaders of the tribes."

"Of which my father is one."

"Certainly; and I have already offered to take you to him. If he assumes
the responsibility of informing you. . . ."

"Should he deem it a breach of duty, he will keep silence. Who is to
command the wandering hosts tomorrow?"

"I."

"You?" asked Hosea in astonishment, and Hur answered calmly:

"You marvel at the audacity of the shepherd who ventures to lead an army;
but the Lord of all armies, to whom we trust our cause, is our leader; I
rely solely on His guidance."

"And so do I," replied Hosea. "No one save the God through whom Miriam
summoned me to this spot, entrusted me--of that I am confident--with the
important message which brings me here. I must find Moses ere it is too
late."

"You have already heard that he will be beyond the reach of any one,
myself included, until to-morrow, perhaps the day after. Will you speak
to Aaron?"

"Is he in the camp?"

"No; but we expect his return before the departure of the people, that is
in a few hours."

"Has he the power to decide important matters in Moses' absence?"

"No, he merely announces to the people in eloquent language what his
illustrious brother commands."

The warrior bent his eyes with a disappointed expression on the ground,
and after a brief pause for reflection eagerly added, fixing his gaze on
Miriam:

"It is Moses to whom the Lord our God announces his will; but to you, his
august maiden sister, the Most High also reveals himself, to you . . ."

"Oh, Hosea!" interrupted the prophetess, extending her hands toward him
with a gesture of mingled entreaty and warning; but the chief, instead of
heeding her monition, went on:

"The Lord our God hath commanded you to summon me, His servant, back to
the people; He hath commanded you to give me the name for which I am to
exchange the one my father and mother bestowed upon me, and which I have
borne in honor for thirty years. Obedient to your summons, I have cast
aside all that could make me great among men; but on my way through
Egypt,--bearing in my heart the image of my God and of you,--braving
death, the message I now have to deliver was entrusted to me, and I
believe that it came from the Most High Himself. It is my duty to convey
it to the leaders of the people; but as I am unable to find Moses, I can
confide it to no better one than you who, though only a woman,
stand,--next to your brother--nearest to the Most High, so I implore you
to listen to me. The tidings I bring are not yet ripe for the ears of a
third person."

Hur drew his figure to a still greater height and, interrupting Hosea,
asked Miriam whether she desired to hear the son of Nun without
witnesses; she answered with a quiet "yes."

Then Hur turned haughtily and coldly to the warrior:

"I think that Miriam knows the Lord's will, as well as her brother's, and
is aware of what beseems the women of Israel. If I am not mistaken, it
was under this tree that your own father, the worthy Nun, gave to my son
Uri the sole answer which Moses must also make to every bearer of a
message akin to yours."

"Do you know it?" asked Hosea in a tone of curt reproof.

"No," replied the other, "but I suspect its purport, and look here."

While speaking he stooped with youthful agility and, raising two large
stones with his powerful arms, propped them against each other, rolled
several smaller ones to their sides, and then, with panting breath,
exclaimed:

"Let this heap be a witness between me and thee, like the stones named
Mizpah which Jacob and Laban erected. And as the latter called upon the
Lord to watch between him and the other, so do I likewise. I point to
this heap that you may remember it, when we are parted one from the
other. I lay my hand upon these stones and bear witness that I, Hur, son
of Caleb and Ephrath, put my trust in no other than the Lord, the God of
our fathers, and am ready to obey His command, which calls us forth from
the kingdom of Pharaoh into a land which He promised to us. But of thee,
Hosea, son of Nun, I ask and the Lord our God hears thee: Dost thou, too,
expect no other help save from the God of Abraham, who has made thy race
His chosen people? And wilt thou also testify whether thou wilt ever
regard the Egyptians who oppressed us, and from whose bondage the Lord
our God delivered us, as the mortal foes of thy God and of thy race?"

The warrior's bearded features quivered, and he longed to overthrow the
heap and answer the troublesome questioner with wrathful words, but
Miriam had laid her hand on the top of the pile of stones, and clasping
his right hand, exclaimed:

"He is questioning you in the presence of our God and Lord, who is your
witness."

Hosea succeeded in controlling his wrath, and pressing the maiden's hand
more closely, he answered earnestly:

"He questions, but I may not answer; 'yea' or 'nay' will be of little
service here; but I, too, call God to witness, and before this heap you,
Miriam, but you alone, shall hear what I propose and for what purpose I
have come. Look, Hur! Like you I lay my hand upon this heap and bear
witness that I, Hosea, son of Nun, put my sole trust in the Lord and God
of our fathers. He stands as a witness between me and thee, and shall
decide whether my way is His, or that of an erring mortal. I will obey
His will, which He has made known to Moses and to this noble maiden. This
I swear by an oath whose witness is the Lord our God."

Hur had listened intently and, impressed by the earnestness of the words,
now exclaimed:

"The Lord our God has heard your vow and against your oath I, in the
presence of this heap, take another: If the hour comes when, mindful of
this heap of stones, you give the testimony you have refused me, there
shall henceforward be no ill-will between us, and if it is in accordance
with the will of the Most High, I will cheerfully resign to you the
office of commander, which you, trained in many wars, would be better
suited to fill than I, who hitherto have ruled only my flocks and
shepherds. But you, Miriam, I charge to remember that this heap of stones
will also be a witness of the colloquy you are to hold with this man in
the presence of God. I remind you of the reproving words you heard
beneath this tree from the lips of his father, and call God to witness
that I would have darkened the life of my son Uri, who is the joy of my
heart, with a father's curse if he had gone among the people to induce
them to favor the message he brought; for it would have turned those of
little faith from their God. Remember this, maiden, and let me say again:

"If you seek me you will find me, and the door I opened will remain open
to you, whatever may happen!"

With these words Hur turned his back upon Miriam and the warrior.

Neither knew what had befallen them, but he who during the long ride
beset by many a peril had yearned with ardent anticipations for the hour
which was to once more unite him to the object of his love, gazed on the
ground full of bewilderment and profound anxiety, while Miriam who, at
his approach, had been ready to bestow upon him the highest, sweetest
gifts with which a loving woman rewards fidelity and love, had sunk to
the earth before the ominous pile of stones close beside the tree and
pressed her forehead against its gnarled, hollow trunk.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Brief "eternity" of national covenants
Choose between too great or too small a recompense
Regard the utterances and mandates of age as wisdom
There is no 'never,' no surely
Voice of the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute




JOSHUA

By Georg Ebers

Volume 3.




CHAPTER XV.

For a long time nothing was heard beneath the sycamore save Miriam's low
moans and the impatient footsteps of the warrior who, while struggling
for composure, did not venture to disturb her.

He could not yet understand what had suddenly towered like a mountain
between him and the object of his love.

He had learned from Hur's words that his father and Moses rejected all
mediation, yet the promises he was bearing to the people seemed to him a
merciful gift from the Most High. None of his race yet knew it and, if
Moses was the man whom he believed him to be, the Lord must open his eyes
and show him that he had chosen him, Hosea, to lead the people through
his mediation to a fairer future; nor did he doubt that He could easily
win his father over to his side. He would even have declared a second
time, with the firmest faith, that it was the Most High who had pointed
out his path, and after reflecting upon all this he approached Miriam,
who had at last risen, with fresh confidence. His loving heart prompted
him to clasp her in his arms, but she thrust him back and her voice,
usually so pure and clear, sounded harsh and muffled as she asked why he
had lingered so long and what he intended to confide to her.

While cowering under the sycamore, she had not only struggled and prayed
for composure, but also gazed into her own soul. She loved Hosea, but she
suspected that he came with proposals similar to those of Uri, and the
wrathful words of hoary Nun rang in her ears more loudly than ever. The
fear that the man she loved was walking in mistaken paths, and the
startling act of Hur had made the towering waves of her passion subside
and her mind, now capable of calmer reflection, desired first of all to
know what had so long detained him whom she had summoned in the name of
her God, and why he came alone, without Ephraim.

The clear sky was full of stars, and these heavenly bodies, which seem to
have been appointed to look down upon the bliss of united human lovers,
now witnessed the anxious questions of a tortured girl and the impatient
answers of a fiery, bitterly disappointed man.

He began with the assurance of his love and that he had come to make her
his wife; but, though she permitted him to hold her hand in his clasp,
she entreated him to cease pleading his suit and first tell her what she
desired to know.

On his way he had received various reports concerning Ephraim through a
brother-in-arms from Tanis, so he could tell her that the lad had been
disobedient and, probably from foolish curiosity, had gone, ill and
wounded, to the city, where he had found shelter and care in the house of
a friend. But this troubled Miriam, who seemed to regard it as a reproach
to know that the orphaned, inexperienced lad, who had grown up under her
own eyes and whom she herself had sent forth among strangers, was beneath
an Egyptian roof.

But Hosea declared that he would undertake the task of bringing him back
to his people and as, nevertheless she continued to show her anxiety,
asked whether he had forfeited her confidence and love. Instead of giving
him a consoling answer, she began to put more questions, desiring to know
what had delayed his coming, and so, with a sorely troubled and wounded
heart, he was forced to make his report and, in truth, begin at the end
of his story.

While she listened, leaning against the trunk of the sycamore, he paced
to and fro, urged by longing and impatience, sometimes pausing directly
in front of her. Naught in this hour seemed to him worthy of being
clothed in words, save the hope and passion which filled his heart. Had
he been sure that hers was estranged he would have dashed away again,
after having revealed his whole soul to his father, and risked the ride
into unknown regions to seek Moses. To win Miriam and save himself from
perjury were his only desires, and momentous as had been his experiences
and expectations, during the last few days, he answered her questions
hastily, as if they concerned the most trivial things.

He began his narrative in hurried words, and the more frequently she
interrupted him, the more impatiently he bore it, the deeper grew the
lines in his forehead.

Hosea, accompanied by his attendant, had ridden southward several hours
full of gladsome courage and rich in budding hopes, when just before dusk
he saw a vast multitude moving in advance of him. At first he supposed he
had encountered the rear-guard of the migrating Hebrews, and had urged
his horse to greater speed. But, ere he overtook the wayfarers, some
peasants and carters who had abandoned their wains and beasts of burden
rushed past him with loud outcries and shouts of warning which told him
that the people moving in front were lepers. And the fugitives' warning
had been but too well founded; for the first, who turned with the
heart-rending cry: "Unclean! Unclean!" bore the signs of those attacked
by the fell disease, and from their distorted faces covered with white
dust and scurf, lustreless eyes, destitute of brows, gazed at him.

Hosea soon recognized individuals, here Egyptian priests with shaven
heads, yonder Hebrew men and women. With the stern composure of a
soldier, he questioned both and learned that they were marching from the
stone quarries opposite Memphis to their place of isolation on the
eastern shore of the Nile. Several of the Hebrews among them had heard
from their relatives that their people had left Egypt and gone to seek a
land which the Lord had promised them. Many had therefore resolved to put
their trust also in the mighty God of their fathers and follow the
wanderers; the Egyptian priests, bound to the Hebrews by the tie of a
common misfortune, had accompanied them, and fixed upon Succoth as the
goal of their journey, knowing that Moses intended to lead his people
there first. But every one who could have directed them on their way had
fled before them, so they had kept too far northward and wandered near
the fortress of Thabne. Hosea had met them a mile from this spot and
advised them to turn back, that they might not bring their misfortune
upon their fugitive brethren.

During this conversation, a body of Egyptian soldiers had marched from
the fortress toward the lepers to drive them from the road; but their
commander, who knew Hosea, used no violence, and both men persuaded the
leaders of the lepers to accept the proposal to be guided to the
peninsula of Sinai, where in the midst of the mountains, not far from the
mines, a colony of lepers had settled. They had agreed to this plan
because Hosea promised them that, if the tribes went eastward, they would
meet them and receive everyone who was healed; but if the Hebrews
remained in Egypt, nevertheless the pure air of the desert would bring
health to many a sufferer, and every one who recovered would be free to
return home.

These negotiations had consumed much time, and the first delay was
followed by many others; for as Hosea had been in such close contact with
the lepers, he was obliged to ride to Thabne, there with the commander of
the garrison, who had stood by his side, to be sprinkled with bird's
blood, put on new garments, and submit to certain ceremonies which he
himself considered necessary and which could be performed only in the
bright sunlight. His servant had been kept in the fortress because the
kind-hearted man had shaken hands with a relative whom he met among the
hapless wretches.

The cause of the delay had been both sorrowful and repulsive, and not
until after Hosea had left Thabne in the afternoon and proceeded on his
way to Succoth, did hope and joy again revive at the thought of seeing
Miriam once more and bringing to his people a message that promised so
much good.

His heart had never throbbed faster or with more joyous anticipation than
on the nocturnal ride which led him to his father and the woman he loved,
and on reaching his goal, instead of the utmost happiness, he now found
only bitter disappointment.

He had reluctantly described in brief, disconnected sentences his meeting
with the lepers, though he believed he had done his best for the welfare
of these unfortunates. All of his warrior comrades had uttered a word of
praise; but when he paused she whose approval he valued above aught else,
pointed to a portion of the camp and said sadly: "They are of our blood,
and our God is theirs. The lepers in Zoan, Pha-kos and Phibeseth followed
the others at a certain distance, and their tents are pitched outside the
camp. Those in Succoth--there are not many--will also be permitted to go
forth with us; for when the Lord promised the people the Land for which
they long, He meant lofty and lowly, poor and humble, and surely also the
hapless ones who must now remain in the hands of the foe. Would you not
have done better to separate the Hebrews from the Egyptians, and guide
those of our own blood to us?"

The warrior's manly pride rebelled and his answer sounded grave and
stern: "In war we must resolve to sacrifice hundreds in order to save
thousands. The shepherds separate the scabby sheep to protect the flock."

"True," replied Miriam eagerly; "for the shepherd is a feeble man, who
knows no remedy against contagion; but the Lord, who calls all His
people, will suffer no harm to arise from rigid obedience."

"That is a woman's mode of thought," replied Hosea; "but what pity
dictates to her must not weigh too heavily in the balance in the councils
of men. You willingly obey the voice of the heart, which is most proper,
but you should not forget what befits you and your sex."

A deep flush crimsoned Miriam's cheeks; for she felt the sting contained
in this speech with two-fold pain because it was Hosea who dealt the
thrust. How many pangs she had been compelled to endure that day on
account of her sex, and now he, too, made her feel that she was not his
peer because she was a woman. In the presence of the stones Hur had
gathered, and on which her hand now rested, he had appealed to her
verdict, as though she were one of the leaders of the people, and now he
abruptly thrust her, who felt herself inferior to no man in intellect and
talent, back into a woman's narrow sphere.

But he, too, felt his dignity wounded, and her bearing showed him that
this hour would decide whether he or she would have the mastery in their
future union. He stood proudly before her, his mien stern in its
majesty--never before had he seemed so manly, so worthy of admiration.
Yet the desire to battle for her insulted womanly dignity gained
supremacy over every other feeling, and it was she who at last broke the
brief, painful silence that had followed his last words, and with a
composure won only by the exertion of all her strength of will, she
began:

"We have both forgotten what detains us here so late at night. You wished
to confide to me what brings you to your people and to hear, not what
Miriam, the weak woman, but the confidante of the Lord decides."

"I hoped also to hear the voice of the maiden on whose love I rely," he
answered gloomily.

"You shall hear it," she replied quickly, taking her hand from the
stones. "Yet it may be that I cannot agree with the opinion of the man
whose strength and wisdom are so far superior to mine, yet you have just
shown that you cannot tolerate the opposition of a woman, not even mine."

"Miriam," he interrupted reproachfully, but she continued still more
eagerly: "I have felt it, and because it would be the greatest grief of
my life to lose your heart, you must learn to understand me, ere you call
upon me to express my opinion."

"First hear my message."

"No, no!" she answered quickly. "The reply would die upon my lips. Let me
first tell you of the woman who has a loving heart, and yet knows
something else that stands higher than love. Do you smile? You have a
right to do so, you have so long been a stranger to the secret I mean to
confide. . . ."

"Speak then!" he interrupted, in a tone which betrayed how difficult it
was for him to control his impatience.

"I thank you," she answered warmly. Then leaning against the trunk of the
ancient tree, while he sank down on the bench, gazing alternately at the
ground and into her face, she began:

"Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow. When I was
a little girl, there was not much to distinguish me from others. I played
like them and, though my mother had taught me to pray to the God of our
fathers, I was well pleased to listen to the other children's tales of
the goddess Isis. Nay, I stole into her temple, bought spices, plundered
our little garden for her, anointed her altar, and brought flowers for
offerings. I was taller and stronger than many of my companions, and was
also the daughter of Amram, so they followed me and readily did what I
suggested. When I was eight years old, we moved hither from Zoan. Ere I
again found a girl-playfellow, you came to Gamaliel, your sister's
husband, to be cured of the wound dealt by a Libyan's lance. Do you
remember that time when you, a youth, made the little girl a companion? I
brought you what you needed and prattled to you of the things I knew, but
you told me of bloody battles and victories, of flashing armor, and the
steeds and chariots of the warrior, You showed me the ring your daring
had won, and when the wound in your breast was cured, we roved over the
pastures. Isis, whom you also loved, had a temple here, and how often I
secretly slipped into the forecourt to pray for you and offer her my
holiday-cakes. I had heard so much from you of Pharaoh and his splendor,
of the Egyptians, and their wisdom, their art, and luxurious life, that
my little heart longed to live among them in the capital; besides, it had
reached my ears that my brother Moses had received great favors in
Pharaoh's palace and risen to distinction in the priesthood. I no longer
cared for our own people; they seemed to me inferior to the Egyptians in
all respects.

"Then came the parting from you and, as my little heart was devout and
expected all good gifts from the divine power, no matter what name it
bore, I prayed for Pharaoh and his army, in whose ranks you were