into such sore misfortune. But much as he longed to warn him once more
against treason and perjury, he refrained, fearing to imperil his
success. Any noise might attract the attention of the guards, and he took
as keen an interest in the attempt at liberation, as if Ephraim had made
it at his suggestion.

So instead of annoying the youth with fruitless warnings, he kept watch
for him; life had taught him that good advice is more frequently unheeded
than followed, and only personal experiences possess resistless power of
instruction.

The chief's practiced eye soon showed him the way by which Ephraim, if
fortune favored him, could escape.

He called softly, and directly after his nephew whispered:

"I'll loose your ropes, if you will hold up your hands to me. Mine are
free!"

Joshua's tense features brightened.

The defiant lad was a noble fellow, after all, and risked his own chance
in behalf of one who, if he escaped with him, threatened to bar the way
in which, in youthful blindness, he hoped to find happiness.




CHAPTER XIX.

Joshua gazed intently around him. The sky was still bright, but if the
north wind continued to blow, the clouds which seemed to be rising from
the sea must soon cover it.

The air had grown sultry, but the guards kept awake and regularly
relieved one another. It was difficult to elude their attention; yet
close by Ephraim's couch, which his uncle, for greater comfort, had
helped him make on the side of a gently sloping hill, a narrow ravine ran
down to the valley. White veins of gypsum and glittering mica sparkled in
the moonlight along its bare edges. If the agile youth could reach this
cleft unseen, and crawl through as far as the pool of saltwater,
overgrown with tall grass and tangled desert shrubs, at which it ended,
he might, aided by the clouds, succeed.

After arriving at this conviction Joshua considered, as deliberately as
if the matter concerned directing one of his soldiers on his way, whether
he himself, in case he regained the use of his hands, could succeed in
following Ephraim without endangering his project. And he was forced to
answer this question in the negative; for the guard who sometimes sat,
sometimes paced to and fro on a higher part of the crest of the hill a
few paces away, could but too easily perceive, by the moonlight, the
youth's efforts to loose the firmly-knotted bonds. The cloud approaching
the moon might perhaps darken it, ere the work was completed. Thus
Ephraim might, on his account, incur the peril of losing the one
fortunate moment which promised escape. Would it not be the basest of
crimes, merely for the sake of the uncertain chance of flight, to bar the
path to liberty of the youth whose natural protector he was? So he
whispered to Ephraim:

"I cannot go with you. Creep through the chasm at your right to the
salt-pool. I will watch the guards. As soon as the cloud passes over the
moon and I clear my throat, start off. If you escape, join our people.
Greet my old father, assure him of my love and fidelity, and tell him
where I am being taken. Listen to his advice and Miriam's; theirs is the
best counsel. The cloud is approaching the moon,--not another word now!"

As Ephraim still continued to urge him in a whisper to hold up his
pinioned arms, he ordered him to keep silence and, as soon as the moon
was obscured and the guard, who was pacing to and fro above their heads
began a conversation with the man who came to relieve him, Joshua cleared
his throat and, holding his breath, listened with a throbbing heart for
some sound in the direction of the chasm.

He first heard a faint scraping and, by the light of the fire which the
guards kept on the hill-top as a protection against wild beasts, he saw
Ephraim's empty couch.

He uttered a sigh of relief; for the youth must have entered the ravine.
But though he strained his ears to follow the crawling or sliding of the
fugitive he heard nothing save the footsteps and voices of the warders.

Yet he caught only the sound, not the meaning of their words, so intently
did he fix his powers of hearing upon the course taken by the fugitive.
How nimbly and cautiously the agile fellow must move! He was still in the
chasm, yet meanwhile the moon struggled victoriously with the clouds and
suddenly her silver disk pierced the heavy black curtain that concealed
her from the gaze of men, and her light was reflected like a slender,
glittering pillar from the motionless pool of salt-water, enabling the
watching Joshua to see what was passing below; but he perceived nothing
that resembled a human form.

Had the fugitive encountered any obstacle in the chasm? Did some
precipice or abyss hold him in its gloomy depths? Had--and at the thought
he fancied that his heart had stopped beating--Had some gulf swallowed
the lad when he was groping his way through the night?

How he longed for some noise, even the faintest, from the ravine! The
silence was terrible. But now! Oh, would that it had continued! Now the
sound of falling stones and the crash of earth sliding after echoed
loudly through the still night air. Again the moonlight burst through the
cloud-curtain, and Joshua perceived near the pool a living creature which
resembled an animal more than a human being, for it seemed to be crawling
on four feet. Now the water sent up a shower of glittering spray. The
figure below had leaped into the pool. Then the clouds again swallowed
the lamp of night, and darkness covered everything.

With a sigh of relief Joshua told himself that he had seen the flying
Ephraim and that, come what might, the escaping youth had gained a
considerable start of his pursuers.

But the latter neither remained inert nor allowed themselves to be
deceived; for though, to mislead them, he had shouted loudly: "A jackal!"
they uttered a long, shrill whistle, which roused their sleeping
comrades. A few seconds later the chief warder stood before him with a
burning torch, threw its light on his face, and sighed with relief when
he saw him. Not in vain had he bound him with double ropes; for he would
have been called to a severe reckoning at home had this particular man
escaped.

But while he was feeling the ropes on the prisoner's arms, the glare of
the burning torch, which lighted him, fell on the fugitive's rude,
deserted couch. There, as if in mockery, lay the gnawed rope. Taking it
up, he flung it at Joshua's feet, blew his whistle again and again, and
shouted: "Escaped! The Hebrew! Young Curly-head!"

Paying no farther heed to Joshua, he began the pursuit. Hoarse with fury,
he issued order after order, each one sensible and eagerly obeyed.

While some of the guards dragged the prisoners together, counted them,
and tied them with ropes, their commander, with the others and his dogs,
set off on the track of the fugitive.

Joshua saw him make the intelligent animals smell Ephraim's gnawed bonds
and resting-place, and beheld them instantly rush to the ravine. Gasping
for breath, he also noted that they remained in it quite a long time, and
at last--the moon meanwhile scattered the clouds more and more--darted
out of the ravine, and dashed to the water. He felt that it was fortunate
Ephraim had waded through instead of passing round it; for at its edge
the dogs lost the scent, and minute after minute elapsed while the
commander of the guards walked along the shore with the eager animals,
which fairly thrust their noses into the fugitive's steps, in order to
again get on the right trail. Their loud, joyous barking at last
announced that they had found it. Yet, even if they persisted in
following the runaway, the captive warrior no longer feared the worst,
for Ephraim had gained a long advance of his pursuers. Still, his heart
beat loudly enough and time seemed to stand still until the chief-warder
returned exhausted and unsuccessful.

The older man, it is true, could never have overtaken the swift-footed
youth, but the youngest and most active guards had been sent after the
fugitive. This statement the captain of the guards himself made with an
angry jeer.

The kindly-natured man seemed completely transformed,--for he felt what
had occurred as a disgrace which could scarcely be overcome, nay, a
positive misfortune.

The prisoner who had tried to deceive him by the shout of 'jackal!' was
doubtless the fugitive's accomplice. Prince Siptah, too, who had
interfered with the duties of his office, he loudly cursed. But nothing
of the sort should happen again; and he would make the whole band feel
what had fallen to his lot through Ephraim. Therefore he ordered the
prisoners to be again loaded with chains, the ex-chief fastened to a
coughing old man, and all made to stand in rank and file before the fire
till morning dawned.

Joshua gave no answer to the questions his new companion-in-chains
addressed to him; he was waiting with an anxious heart for the return of
the pursuers. At times he strove to collect his thoughts to pray, and
commended to the God who had promised His aid, his own destiny and that
of the fugitive boy. True, he was often rudely interrupted by the captain
of the guards, who vented his rage upon him.

Yet the man who had once commanded thousands of soldiers quietly
submitted to everything, forcing himself to accept it like the
unavoidable discomfort of hail or rain; nay, it cost him an effort to
conceal his joyful emotion when, toward sunrise, the young warders sent
in pursuit returned with tangled hair, panting for breath, and bringing
nothing save one of the dogs with a broken skull.

The only thing left for the captain of the guards to do was to report
what had occurred at the first fortress on the Etham border, which the
prisoners were obliged in any case to pass, and toward this they were now
driven.

Since Ephraim's flight a new and more cruel spirit had taken possession
of the warders. While yesterday they had permitted the unfortunate men to
move forward at an easy pace, they now forced them to the utmost possible
speed. Besides, the atmosphere was sultry, and the scorching sun
struggled with the thunderclouds gathering in heavy masses at the north.

Joshua's frame, inured to fatigues of every kind, resisted the tortures
of this hurried march; but his weaker companion, who had grown grey in a
scribe's duties, often gave way and at last lay prostrate beside him.

The captain was obliged to have the hapless man placed on an ass and
chain another prisoner to Joshua. He was his former yoke-mate's brother,
an inspector of the king's stables, a stalwart Egyptian, condemned to the
mines solely on account of the unfortunate circumstance of being the
nearest blood relative of a state criminal.

It was easier to walk with this vigorous companion, and Joshua listened
with deep sympathy and tried to comfort him when, in a low voice, he made
him the confidant of his yearning, and lamented the heaviness of heart
with which he had left wife and child in want and suffering. Two sons had
died of the pestilence, and it sorely oppressed his soul that he had been
unable to provide for their burial--now his darlings would be lost to him
in the other world also and forever.

At the second halt the troubled father became franker still. An ardent
thirst for vengeance filled his soul, and he attributed the same feeling
to his stern-eyed companion, whom he saw had plunged into misfortune from
a high station in life. The ex-inspector of the stables had a
sister-in-law, who was one of Pharaoh's concubines, and through her and
his wife, her sister, he had learned that a conspiracy was brewing
against the king in the House of the Separated.--[Harem]. He even knew
whom the women desired to place in Menephtah's place.

As Joshua looked at him, half questioning, half doubting, his companion
whispered. "Siptah, the king's nephew, and his noble mother, are at the
head of the plot. When I am once more free, I will remember you, for my
sister-in-law certainly will not forget me." Then he asked what was
taking his companion to the mines, and Joshua frankly told his name. But
when the Egyptian learned that he was fettered to a Hebrew, he tore
wildly at his chain and cursed his fate. His rage, however, soon subsided
in the presence of the strange composure with which his companion in
misfortune bore the rudest insults, and Joshua was glad to have the other
beset him less frequently with complaints and questions.

He now walked on for hours undisturbed, free to yield to his longing to
collect his thoughts, analyze the new and lofty emotions which had ruled
his soul during the past few days, and accommodate himself to his novel
and terrible position.

This quiet reflection and self-examination relieved him and, during the
following night, he was invigorated by a deep, refreshing sleep.

When he awoke the setting stars were still in the sky and reminded him of
the sycamore in Succoth, and the momentous morning when his lost love had
won him for his God and his people. The glittering firmament arched over
his head, and he had never so distinctly felt the presence of the Most
High. He believed in His limitless power and, for the first time, felt a
dawning hope that the Mighty Lord who had created heaven and earth would
find ways and means to save His chosen people from the thousands of the
Egyptian hosts.

After fervently imploring God to extend His protecting hand over the
feeble bands who, obedient to His command, had left so much behind them
and marched so confidently through an unknown and distant land, and
commended to His special charge the aged father whom he himself could not
defend, a wonderful sense of peace filled his soul.

The shouts of the guards, the rattling of the chain, his wretched
companions in misfortune, nay, all that surrounded him, could not fail to
recall the fate awaiting him. He was to grow grey in slavish toil within
a close, hot pit, whose atmosphere choked the lungs, deprived of the
bliss of breathing the fresh air and beholding the sunlight; loaded with
chains, beaten and insulted, starving and thirsting, spending days and
nights in a monotony destructive alike to soul and body,--yet not for one
moment did he lose the confident belief that this horrible lot might
befall any one rather than himself, and something must interpose to save
him.

On the march farther eastward, which began with the first grey dawn of
morning, he called this resolute confidence folly, yet strove to retain
it and succeeded.

The road led through the desert, and at the end of a few hours' rapid
march they reached the first fort, called the Fortress of Seti. Long
before, they had seen it through the clear desert air, apparently within
a bowshot.

Unrelieved by the green foliage of bush or palmtree, it rose from the
bare, stony, sandy soil, with its wooden palisades, its rampart, its
escarped walls, and its lookout, with broad, flat roof, swarming with
armed warriors. The latter had heard from Pithom that the Hebrews were
preparing to break through the chain of fortresses on the isthmus and had
at first mistaken the approaching band of prisoners for the vanguard of
the wandering Israelites.

From the summits of the strong projections, which jutted like galleries
from every direction along the entire height of the escarped walls to
prevent the planting of scaling-ladders, soldiers looked through the
embrasures at the advancing convicts; yet the archers had replaced their
arrows in the quivers, for the watchmen in the towers perceived how few
were the numbers of the approaching troop, and a messenger had already
delivered to the commander of the garrison an order from his superior
authorizing him to permit the passage of the prisoners.

The gate of the palisade was now opened, and the captain of the guards
allowed the prisoners to lie down on the glowing pavement within.

No one could escape hence, even if the guards withdrew; for the high
fence was almost insurmountable, and from the battlements on the top of
the jutting walls darts could easily reach a fugitive.

The ex-chief did not fail to note that everything was ready, as if in the
midst of war, for defence against a foe. Every man was at his post, and
beside the huge brazen disk on the tower stood sentinels, each holding in
his hand a heavy club to deal a blow at the approach of the expected
enemy; for though as far as the eye could reach, neither tree nor house
was visible, the sound of the metal plate would be heard at the next
fortress in the Etham line, and warn or summon its garrison.

To be stationed in the solitude of this wilderness was not a punishment,
but a misfortune; and the commander of the army therefore provided that
the same troops should never remain long in the desert.

Joshua himself, in former days, had been in command of the most southerly
of these fortresses, called the Migdol of the South; for each one of the
fortifications bore the name of Migdol, which in the Semitic tongue means
the tower of a fortress.

His people were evidently expected here; and it was not to be supposed
that Moses had led the tribes back to Egypt. So they must have remained
in Succoth or have turned southward. But in that direction rolled the
waters of the Bitter Lakes and the Red Sea, and how could the Hebrew
hosts pass through the deep waters?

Hosea's heart throbbed anxiously at this thought, and all his fears were
to find speedy confirmation; for he heard the commander of the fortress
tell the captain of the prisoners' guards, that the Hebrews had
approached the line of fortifications several days before, but soon
after, without assaulting the garrison, had turned southward. Since then
they seemed to have been wandering in the desert between Pithom and the
Red Sea.

All this had been instantly reported at Tanis, but the king was forced to
delay the departure of the army for several days until the week of
general mourning for the heir to the throne had expired. The fugitives
might have turned this to account, but news had come by a carrier dove
that the blinded multitude had encamped at Pihahiroth, not far from the
Red Sea. So it would be easy for the army to drive them into the water
like a herd of cattle; there was no escape for them in any other
direction.

The captain listened to these tidings with satisfaction; then he
whispered a few words to the commander of the fortress and pointed with
his finger to Joshua, who had long recognized him as a brother-in-arms
who had commanded a hundred men in his own cohorts and to whom he had
done many a kindness. He was reluctant to reveal his identity in this
wretched plight to his former subordinate, who was also his debtor; but
the commander flushed as he saw him, shrugged his shoulders as though he
desired to express to Joshua regret for his fate and the impossibility of
doing anything for him, and then exclaimed so loudly that he could not
fail to hear:

"The regulations forbid any conversation with prisoners of state, but I
knew this man in better days, and will send you some wine which I beg you
to share with him."

As he walked with the other to the gate, and the latter remarked that
Hosea deserved such favor less than the meanest of the band, because he
had connived at the escape of the fugitive of whom he had just spoken,
the commander ran his hand through his hair, and answered:

"I would gladly have shown him some kindness, though he is much indebted
to me; but if that is the case, we will omit the wine; you have rested
long enough at any rate."

The captain angrily gave the order for departure, and drove the hapless
band deeper into the desert toward the mines.

This time Joshua walked with drooping head. Every fibre of his being
rebelled against the misfortune of being dragged through the wilderness
at this decisive hour, far from his people and the father whom he knew to
be in such imminent danger. Under his guidance the wanderers might
perchance have found some means of escape. His fist clenched when he
thought of the fettered limbs which forbade him to utilize the plans his
brain devised for the welfare of his people; yet he would not lose
courage, and whenever he said to himself that the Hebrews were lost and
must succumb in this struggle, he heard the new name God Himself had
bestowed upon him ring in his ears and at the same moment the flames of
hate and vengeance on all Egyptians, which had been fanned anew by the
fortress commander's base conduct, blazed up still more brightly. His
whole nature was in the most violent tumult and as the captain noted his
flushed cheeks and the gloomy light in his eyes he thought that this
strong man, too, had been seized by the fever to which so many convicts
fell victims on the march.

When, at the approach of darkness, the wretched band sought a night's
rest in the midst of the wilderness, a terrible conflict of emotions was
seething in Joshua's soul, and the scene around him fitly harmonized with
his mood; for black clouds had again risen in the north from the sea and,
before the thunder and lightning burst forth and the rain poured in
torrents, howling, whistling winds swept masses of scorching sand upon
the recumbent prisoners.

After these dense clouds had been their coverlet, pools and ponds were
their beds. The guards had bound them together hand and foot and,
dripping and shivering, held the ends of the ropes in their hands; for
the night was as black as the embers of their fire which the rain had
extinguished, and who could have pursued a fugitive through such darkness
and tempest.

But Joshua had no thought of secret flight. While the Egyptians were
trembling and moaning, when they fancied they heard the wrathful voice of
Seth, and the blinding sheets of fire flamed from the clouds, he only
felt the approach of the angry God, whose fury he shared, whose hatred
was also his own. He felt himself a witness of His all-destroying
omnipotence, and his breast swelled more proudly as he told himself that
he was summoned to wield the sword in the service of this Mightiest of
the Mighty.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A school where people learned modesty
But what do you men care for the suffering you inflict on others
Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow
Good advice is more frequently unheeded than followed
Precepts and lessons which only a mother can give
Should I be a man, if I forgot vengeance?
To the mines meant to be doomed to a slow, torturing death
What had formerly afforded me pleasure now seemed shallow




JOSHUA

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.




CHAPTER XX.

The storm which had risen as night closed in swept over the isthmus. The
waves in its lakes dashed high, and the Red Sea, which thrust a bay
shaped like the horn of a snail into it from the south, was lashed to the
wildest fury.

Farther northward, where Pharaoh's army, protected by the Migdol of the
South, the strongest fort of the Etham line, had encamped a short time
before, the sand lashed by the storm whirled through the air and, in the
quarter occupied by the king and his great officials, hammers were
constantly busy driving the tent-pins deeper into the earth; for the
brocades, cloths, and linen materials which formed the portable houses of
Pharaoh and his court, struck by the gale, threatened to break from the
poles by which they were supported.

Black clouds hung in the north, but the moon and stars were often
visible, and flashes of distant lightning frequently brightened the
horizon. Even now the moisture of heaven seemed to avoid this rainless
region and in all directions fires were burning, which the soldiers
surrounded in double rows, like a living shield, to keep the storm from
scattering the fuel.

The sentries had a hard duty; for the atmosphere was sultry, in spite of
the north wind, which still blew violently, driving fresh clouds of sand
into their faces.

Only two sentinels were pacing watchfully to and fro at the most northern
gate of the camp, but they were enough; for, on account of the storm, no
one had appeared for a long time to demand entrance or egress. At last,
three hours after sunset, a slender figure, scarcely beyond boyhood,
approached the guards with a firm step and, showing a messenger's pass,
asked the way to Prince Siptah's tent.

He seemed to have had a toilsome journey; for his thick black locks were
tangled and his feet were covered with dust and dried clay. Yet he
excited no suspicion; for his bearing was that of a self-reliant freeman,
his messenger's pass was perfectly correct, and the letter he produced
was really directed to Prince Siptah; a scribe of the corn storehouses,
who was sitting at the nearest fire with other officials and subordinate
officers, examined it.

As the youth's appearance pleased most of those present, and he came from
Tanis and perhaps brought news, a seat at the fire and a share in the
meal were offered; but he was in haste.

Declining the invitation with thanks, he answered the questions curtly
and hurriedly and begged the resting soldiers for a guide. One was placed
at his disposal without delay. But he was soon to learn that it would not
be an easy matter to reach a member of the royal family; for the tents of
Pharaoh, his relatives, and dignitaries stood in a special spot in the
heart of the camp, hedged in by the shields of the heavily-armed troops.

When he entered he was challenged again and again, and his messenger's
pass and the prince's letter were frequently inspected. The guide, too,
was sent back, and his place was filled by an aristocratic lord, called I
the 'eye and ear of the king,' who busied himself with the seal of the
letter. But the messenger resolutely demanded it, and as soon as it was
again in his hand, and two tents standing side by side rocking in the
tempest had been pointed out to him, one as Prince Siptah's, the other as
the shelter of Masana, the daughter of Hornecht, for whom he asked, he
turned to the chamberlain who came out of the former one, showed him the
letter, and asked to be taken to the prince; but the former offered to
deliver the letter to his master--whose steward he was--and Ephraim--for
he was the messenger--agreed, if he would obtain him immediate admission
to the young widow.

The steward seemed to lay much stress upon getting possession of the
letter and, after scanning Ephraim from top to toe, he asked if Kasana
knew him, and when the other assented, adding that he brought her a
verbal message, the Egyptian said smiling:

"Well then; but we must protect our carpets from such feet, and you seem
weary and in need of refreshment. Follow me."

With these words he took him to a small tent, before which an old slave
and one scarcely beyond childhood were sitting by the fire, finishing
their late meal with a bunch of garlic.

They started up as they saw their master; but he ordered the old man to
wash the messenger's feet, and bade the younger ask the prince's cook in
his name for meat, bread, and wine. Then he led Ephraim to his tent,
which was lighted by a lantern, and asked how he, who from his appearance
was neither a slave nor a person of mean degree, had come into such a
pitiable plight. The messenger replied that on his way he had bandaged
the wounds of a severely injured man with the upper part of his apron,
and the chamberlain instantly went to his baggage and gave him a piece of
finely plaited linen.

Ephraim's reply, which was really very near the truth, had cost him so
little thought and sounded so sincere, that it won credence, and the
steward's kindness seemed to him so worthy of gratitude that he made no
objection when the courtier, without injuring the seal, pressed the roll
of papyrus with a skilful hand, separating the layers and peering into
the openings to decipher the contents. While thus engaged, the corpulent
courtier's round eyes sparkled brightly and it seemed to the youth as if
the countenance of the man, whose comfortable plumpness and smooth
rotundity at first appeared like a mirror of the utmost kindness of
heart, now had the semblance of a cat's.

As soon as the steward had completed his task, he begged the youth to
refresh himself in all comfort, and did not return until Ephraim had
bathed, wrapped a fresh linen upper-garment around his hips, perfumed and
anointed his hair, and, glancing into the mirror, was in the act of
slipping a broad gold circlet upon his arm.

He had hesitated some time ere doing this; for he was aware that he would
encounter great perils; but this circlet was his one costly possession
and, during his captivity, it had been very difficult for him to hide it
under his apron. It might be of much service to him but, if he put it on,
it would attract attention and increase the danger of being recognized.

Yet the reflection he beheld in the mirror, vanity, and the desire to
appear well in Kasana's eyes, conquered caution and prudent
consideration, and the broad costly ornament soon glittered on his arm.

The steward stood in astonishment before the handsome, aristocratic
youth, so haughty in his bearing, who had taken the place of the
unassuming messenger. The question whether he was a relative of Kasana
sprang to his lips, and receiving an answer in the negative, he asked to
what family he belonged.

Ephraim bent his eyes on the ground for some time in embarrassment, and
then requested the Egyptian to spare him an answer until he had talked
with Hornecht's daughter.

The other, shaking his head, looked at him again, but pressed him no
farther; for what he had read in the letter was a secret which might
bring death to whoever was privy to it, and the aristocratic young
messenger was doubtless the son of a dignitary who belonged to the circle
of the fellow-conspirators of Prince Siptah, his master.

A chill ran through the courtier's strong, corpulent body, and he gazed
with mingled sympathy and dread at the blooming human flower associated
thus early in plans fraught with danger.

His master had hitherto only hinted at the secret, and it would still be
possible for him to keep his own fate separate from his. Should he do so,
an old age free from care lay before him; but, if he joined the prince
and his plan succeeded, how high he might rise! Terribly momentous was
the choice confronting him, the father of many children, and beads of
perspiration stood on his brow as, incapable of any coherent thought, he
led Ephraim to Kasana's tent, and then hastened to his master.

Silence reigned within the light structure, which was composed of poles
and gay heavy stuffs, tenanted by the beautiful widow.

With a throbbing heart Ephraim approached the entrance, and when he at
last summoned courage and drew aside the curtain fastened firmly to the
earth, which the wind puffed out like a sail, he beheld a dark room, from
which a similar one opened on the right and left. The one on the left was
as dark as the central one; but a flickering light stole through numerous
chinks of the one on the right. The tent was one of those with a flat
roof, divided into three apartments, which he had often seen, and the
woman who irresistibly attracted him was doubtless in the lighted one.

To avoid exposing himself to fresh suspicion, he must conquer his timid
delay, and he had already stooped and loosed the loop which fastened the
curtain to the hook in the floor, when the door of the lighted room
opened and a woman's figure entered the dark central chamber.

Was it she?

Should he venture to speak to her? Yes, it must be done.

Panting for breath and clenching his hands, he summoned up his courage as
if he were about to steal unbidden into the most sacred sanctuary of a
temple. Then he pushed the curtain aside, and the woman whom he had just
noticed greeted him with a low cry.

But he speedily regained his composure, for a ray of light had fallen on
her face, revealing that the person who stood before him was not Kasana,
but her nurse, who had accompanied her to the prisoners and then to the
camp. She, too, recognized him and stared at him as though he had risen
from the grave.

They were old acquaintances; for when he was first brought to the
archer's house she had prepared his bath and moistened his wound with
balsam, and during his second stay beneath the same roof, she had joined
her mistress in nursing him. They had chatted away many an hour together,
and he knew that she was kindly disposed toward him; for when midway
between waking and sleeping, in his burning fever, her hand had stroked
him with maternal tenderness, and afterwards she had never wearied of
questioning him about his people and at last had acknowledged that she
was descended from the Syrians, who were allied to the Hebrews. Nay, even
his language was not wholly strange to her; for she had been a woman of
twenty when dragged to Egypt with other prisoners of Rameses the Great.
Ephraim, she was fond of saying, reminded her of her own son when he was
still younger.

The youth had no ill to fear from her, so grasping her hand, he whispered
that he had escaped from his guards and come to ask counsel from her
mistress and herself.

The word "escaped" was sufficient to satisfy the old woman; for her idea
of ghosts was that they put others to flight, but did not fly themselves.
Relieved, she stroked the youth's curls and, ere his whispered
explanation was ended, turned her back upon him and hurried into the
lighted room to tell her mistress whom she had found outside.

A few minutes after Ephraim was standing before the woman who had become
the guiding star of his life. With glowing cheeks he gazed into the
beautiful face, still flushed by weeping, and though it gave his heart a
pang when, before vouchsafing him a greeting, she enquired whether Hosea
had accompanied him, he forgot the foolish pain when he saw her gaze
warmly at him. Yet when the nurse asked whether she did not think he
looked well and vigorous, and withal more manly in appearance, it seemed
as though he had really grown taller, and his heart beat faster and
faster.

Kasana desired to learn the minutest details of his uncle's experiences;
but after he had done her bidding and finally yielded to the wish to
speak of his own fate, she interrupted him to consult the nurse
concerning the means of saving him from unbidden looks and fresh
dangers--and the right expedient was soon found.

First, with Ephraim's help, the old woman closed the main entrance of the
tent as firmly as possible, and then pointed to the dark room into which
he must speedily and softly retire as soon as she beckoned to him.

Meanwhile Kasana had poured some wine into a goblet, and when he came
back with the nurse she made him sit down on the giraffe skin at her feet
and asked how he had succeeded in evading the guards, and what he
expected from the future. She would tell him in advance that her father
had remained in Tanis, so he need not fear recognition and betrayal.

Her pleasure in this meeting was evident to both eyes and ears; nay, when
Ephraim commenced his story by saying that Prince Siptah's command to
remove the prisoners' chains, for which they were indebted solely to her,
had rendered his escape possible, she clapped her hands like a child.
Then her face clouded and, with a deep sigh, she added that ere his
arrival her heart had almost broken with grief and tears; but Hosea
should learn what a woman would sacrifice for the most ardent desire of
her heart.

She repaid with grateful words Ephraim's assurance that, before his
flight, he had offered to release his uncle from his bonds and, when she
learned that Joshua had refused to accept his nephew's aid, lest it might
endanger the success of the plan he had cleverly devised for him, she
cried out to her nurse, with tearful eyes, that Hosea alone would have
been capable of such a deed.

To the remainder of the fugitive's tale she listened intently, often
interrupting him with sympathizing questions.

The torturing days and nights of the past, which had reached such a happy
termination, seemed now like a blissful dream, a bewildering fairy-tale,
and the goblet she constantly replenished was not needed to lend fire to
his narrative.

Never before had he been so eloquent as while describing how, in the
ravine, he had stepped on some loose stones and rolled head foremost down