rattle of drums and blare of trumpets began to mingle with the sound.
She rushed to the window in mortal fear, and looked down into the palace-
yard; at that same instant the door of the great banqueting-hall was
flung open, and a flying crowd streamed out in distracted confusion--then
another, and a third--all troops in King Philometor's uniform.  She ran
to the door of the room into which she had thrust her children; that too
was locked.  In her desperation she once more sprang to the window,
shouted to the flying Macedonians to halt and make a stand--threatening
and entreating; but no one heard her, and their number constantly
increased, till at length she saw her husband standing on the threshold
of the great hall with a gaping wound on his forehead, and defending
himself bravely and stoutly with buckler and sword against the body-guard
of his own brother, who were pressing him sorely.  In agonized excitement
she shouted encouraging words to him, and he seemed to hear her, for with
a strong sweep of his shield he struck his nearest antagonist to the
earth, sprang with a mighty leap into the midst of his flying adherents,
and vanished with them through the passage which led to the palace-
stables.

The queen sank fainting on her knees by the window, and, through the
gathering shades of her swoon her dulled senses still were conscious of
the trampling of horses, of a shrill trumpet-blast, and at last of a
swelling and echoing shout of triumph with cries of, "Hail: hail to the
son of the Sun--Hail to the uniter of the two kingdoms; Hail to the King
of Upper and Lower Egypt, to Euergetes the god."

But at the last words she recovered consciousness entirely and started
up.  She looked down into the court again, and there saw her brother
borne along on her husband's throne-litter by dignitaries and nobles.
Side by side with the traitor's body-guard marched her own and
Philometor's Philobasilistes and Diadoches.

The magnificent train went out of the great court of the palace, and
then--as she heard the chanting of priests--she realized that she had
lost her crown, and knew whither her faithless brother was proceeding.

She ground her teeth as her fancy painted all that was now about to
happen.  Euergetes was being borne to the temple of Ptah, and proclaimed
by its astonished chief-priests, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, and
successor to Philometor.  Four pigeons would be let fly in his presence
to announce to the four quarters of the heavens that a new sovereign had
mounted the throne of his fathers, and amid prayer and sacrifice a golden
sickle would be presented to him with which, according to ancient custom,
he would cut an ear of corn.

Betrayed by her brother, abandoned by her husband, parted from her
children, scorned by the man she had loved, dethroned and powerless,
too weak and too utterly crushed to dream of revenge--she spent two
interminably long hours in the keenest anguish of mind, shut up in her
prison which was overloaded with splendor and with gifts.  If poison had
been within her reach, in that hour she would unhesitatingly have put an
end to her ruined life.  Now she walked restlessly up and down, asking
herself what her fate would be, and now she flung herself on the couch
and gave herself up to dull despair.

There lay the lyre she had given to her brother; her eye fell on the
relievo of the marriage of Cadmus and Harmonia, and on the figure of a
woman who was offering a jewel to the bride.  The bearer of the gift was
the goddess of love, and the ornament she gave--so ran the legend--
brought misfortune on those who inherited it.  All the darkest hours of
her life revived in her memory, and the blackest of them all had come
upon her as the outcome of Aphrodite's gifts.  She thought with a shudder
of the murdered Roman, and remembered the moment when Eulaeus had told
her that her Bithynian lover had been killed by wild beasts.  She rushed
from one door to another--the victim of the avenging Eumenides--shrieked
from the window for rescue and help, and in that one hour lived through a
whole year of agonies and terrors.

At last--at last, the door of the room was opened, and Euergetes came
towards her, clad in the purple, with the crown of the two countries on
his grand head, radiant with triumph and delight.

"All hail to you, sister!"  he exclaimed in a cheerful tone, and lifting
the heavy crown from his curling hair.  "You ought to be proud to-day,
for your own brother has risen to high estate, and is now King of Upper
and Lower Egypt."

Cleopatra turned from him, but he followed her and tried to take her
hand.  She however snatched it away, exclaiming:

"Fill up the measure of your deeds, and insult the woman whom you have
robbed and made a widow.  It was with a prophecy on your lips that you
went forth just now to perpetrate your greatest crime; but it falls on
your own head, for you laugh over our misfortune--and it cannot regard
me, for my blood does not run cold; I am not overwhelmed nor hopeless,
and I shall--"

"You," interrupted Euergetes, at first with a loud voice, which presently
became as gentle as though he were revealing to her the prospect of a
future replete with enjoyment, "You shall retire to your roof-tent with
your children, and there you shall be read to as much as you like, eat as
many dainties as you can, wear as many splendid dresses as you can
desire, receive my visits and gossip with me as often as my society may
seem agreeable to you--as yours is to me now and at all times.  Besides
all this you may display your sparkling wit before as many Greek and
Jewish men of letters or learning as you can command, till each and all
are dazzled to blindness.  Perhaps even before that you may win back your
freedom, and with it a full treasury, a stable full of noble horses, and
a magnificent residence in the royal palace on the Bruchion in gay
Alexandria.  It depends only on how soon our brother Philometor--who
fought like a lion this morning--perceives that he is more fit to be a
commander of horse, a lute-player, an attentive host of word-splitting
guests--than the ruler of a kingdom.  Now, is it not worthy of note to
those who, like you and me, sister, love to investigate the phenomena of
our spiritual life, that this man--who in peace is as yielding as wax,
as week as a reed--is as tough and as keen in battle as a finely tempered
sword?  We hacked bravely at each other's shields, and I owe this slash
here on my shoulder to him.  If Hierax--who is in pursuit of him with his
horsemen--is lucky and catches him in time, he will no doubt give up the
crown of his own free will."

"Then he is not yet in your power, and he had time to mount a horse!"
cried Cleopatra, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction; "then all is not
yet lost for us.  If Philometor can but reach Rome, and lay our case
before the Senate--"

"Then he might certainly have some prospect of help from the Republic,
for Rome does not love to see a strong king on the throne of Egypt," said
Euergetes.  "But you have lost your mainstay by the Tiber, and I am about
to make all the Scipios and the whole gens Cornelia my stanch allies, for
I mean to have the deceased Roman burnt with the finest cedar-wood and
Arabian spices; sacrifices shall be slaughtered at the same time as if he
had been a reigning king, and his ashes shall be sent to Ostia and Rome
in the costliest specimen of Vasa murrina that graces my treasure-house,
and on a ship specially fitted, and escorted by the noblest of my
friends.  The road to the rampart of a hostile city lies over corpses,
and I, as general and king--"

Euergetes suddenly broke off in his sentence, for a loud noise and
vehement talking were heard outside the door.  Cleopatra too had not
failed to observe it, and listened with alert attention; for on such a
day and in these apartments every dialogue, every noise in the king's
antechamber might be of grave purport.

Euergetes did not deceive himself in this matter any more than his
sister, and he went towards the door holding the sacrificial sickle,
which formed part of his regalia, in his right hand.  But he had not
crossed the room when Eulaeus rushed in, as pale as death, and calling
out to his sovereign:

"The murderers have betrayed us; Publius Scipio is alive, and insists on
being admitted to speak with you."

The king's armed hand fell by his side, and for a moment he gazed blankly
into vacancy, but the next instant he had recovered himself, and roared
in a voice which filled the room like rolling thunder:

"Who dares to hinder the entrance of my friend Publius Cornelius Scipio?
And are you still here, Eulaeus--you scoundrel and you villain!  The
first case that I, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, shall open for trial
will be that which this man--who is your foe and my friend--proposes to
bring against you.  Welcome! most welcome on my birthday, my noble
friend!"

The last words were addressed to Publius, who now entered the room with
stately dignity, and clad in the ample folds of the white toga worn by
Romans of high birth.  He held a sealed roll or despatch in his right
hand, and, while he bowed respectfully to Cleopatra, he seemed entirely
to overlook the hands King Euergetes held out in welcome.  After his
first greeting had been disdained by the Roman, Euergetes would not have
offered him a second if his life had depended on it.  He crossed his arms
with royal dignity, and said:

"I am grieved to receive your good wishes the last of all that have been
offered me on this happy day."

"Then you must have changed your mind," replied Publius, drawing up his
slight figure, which was taller than the king's, "You have no lack of
docile instruments, and last night you were fully determined to receive
my first congratulations in the realm of shades."

"My sister," answered Euergetes, shrugging his shoulders, "was only
yesterday singing the praises of your uncultured plainness of speech; but
to-day it is your pleasure to speak in riddles like an Egyptian oracle."

"They cannot, however, be difficult to solve by you and your minions,"
replied Publius coldly, as he pointed to Eulaeus.  "The serpents which
you command have powerful poisons and sharp fangs at their disposal; this
time, however, they mistook their victim, and have sent a poor recluse of
Serapis to Hades instead of one of their king's guests."

"Your enigma is harder than ever," cried the king.  "My intelligence at
least is unequal to solve it, and I must request you to speak in less
dark language or else to explain your meaning."

"Later, I will," said Publius emphatically, "but these things concern
myself alone, and I stand here now commissioned by the State of Rome
which I serve.  To-day Juventius Thalna will arrive here as ambassador
from the Republic, and this document from the Senate accredits me as its
representative until his arrival."

Euergetes took the sealed roll which Publius offered to him.  While he
tore it open, and hastily looked through its contents, the door was again
thrown open and Hierax, the king's trusted friend, appeared on the
threshold with a flushed face and hair in disorder.

"We have him!"  he cried before he came in.  "He fell from his horse near
Heliopolis."

"Philometor?"  screamed Cleopatra, flinging herself upon Hierax.  "He
fell from his horse--you have murdered him?"

The tone in which the words were said, so full of grief and horror that
the general said compassionately:

"Calm yourself, noble lady; your husband's wound in the forehead is not
dangerous.  The physicians in the great hall of the temple of the Sun
bound it up, and allowed me to bring him hither on a litter."

Without hearing Hierax to the end Cleopatra flew towards the door, but
Euergetes barred her way and gave his orders with that decision which
characterized him, and which forbade all contradiction:

"You will remain here till I myself conduct you to him.  I wish to have
you both near me."

"So that you may force us by every torment to resign the throne!"  cried
Cleopatra.  "You are in luck to-day, and we are your prisoners."

"You are free, noble queen," said the Roman to the poor woman, who was
trembling in every limb.  "And on the strength of my plenipotentiary
powers I here demand the liberty of King Philometor, in the name of the
Senate of Rome."

At these words the blood mounted to King Euergetes' face and eyes, and,
hardly master of himself, he stammered out rather than said:

"Popilius Laenas drew a circle round my uncle Antiochus, and threatened
him with the enmity of Rome if he dared to overstep it.  You might excel
the example set you by your bold countryman--whose family indeed was far
less illustrious than yours--but I--I--"

"You are at liberty to oppose the will of Rome," interrupted Publius with
dry formality, "but, if you venture on it, Rome, by me, will withdraw her
friendship.  I stand here in the name of the Senate, whose purpose it is
to uphold the treaty which snatched this country from the Syrians, and by
which you and your brother pledged yourselves to divide the realm of
Egypt between you.  It is not in my power to alter what has happened
here; but it is incumbent on me so to act as to enable Rome to distribute
to each of you that which is your due, according to the treaty ratified
by the Republic.

"In all questions which bear upon that compact Rome alone must decide,
and it is my duty to take care that the plaintiff is not prevented from
appearing alive and free before his protectors.  So, in the name of the
Senate, King Euergetes, I require you to permit King Philometor your
brother, and Queen Cleopatra your sister, to proceed hence, whithersoever
they will."  Euergetes, breathing hard in impotent fury, alternately
doubling his fists, and extending his quivering fingers, stood opposite
the Roman who looked enquiringly in his face with cool composure; for a
short space both were silent.  Then Euergetes, pushing his hands through
his hair, shook his head violently from side to side, and exclaimed:

"Thank the Senate from me, and say that I know what we owe to it, and
admire the wisdom which prefers to see Egypt divided rather than united
in one strong hand--Philometor is free, and you also Cleopatra."

For a moment he was again silent, then he laughed loudly, and cried to
the queen:

"As for you sister--your tender heart will of course bear you on the
wings of love to the side of your wounded husband."

Cleopatra's pale cheeks had flushed scarlet at the Roman's speech; she
vouchsafed no answer to her brother's ironical address, but advanced
proudly to the door.  As she passed Publius she said with a farewell wave
of her pretty hand.

"We are much indebted to the Senate."

Publius bowed low, and she, turning away from him, quitted the room.

"You have forgotten your fan, and your children!" the king called after
her; but Cleopatra did not hear his words, for, once outside her
brother's apartment, all her forced and assumed composure flew to the
winds; she clasped her hands on her temples, and rushed down the broad
stairs of the palace as if she were pursued by fiends.

When the sound of her steps had died away, Euergetes turned to the Roman
and said:

"Now, as you have fulfilled what you deem to be your duty, I beg of you
to explain the meaning of your dark speeches just now, for they were
addresed to Euergetes the man, and not the king.  If I understood you
rightly you meant to imply that your life had been attempted, and that
one of those extraordinary old men devoted to Serapis had been murdered
instead of you."

"By your orders and those of your accomplice Eulaeus," answered Publius
coolly.

"Eulaeus, come here!" thundered the king to the trembling courtier, with
a fearful and threatening glare in his eyes.  "Have you hired murderers
to kill my friend--this noble guest of our royal house--because he
threatened to bring your crimes to light?"

"Mercy!" whimpered Eulaeus sinking on his knees before the king.

"He confesses his crime!" cried Euergetes; he laid his hand on the girdle
of his weeping subordinate, and commanded Hierax to hand him over without
delay to the watch, and to have him hanged before all beholders by the
great gate of the citadel.  Eulaeus tried to pray for mercy and to speak,
but the powerful officer, who hated the contemptible wretch, dragged him
up, and out of the room.

"You were quite right to lay your complaint before me," said Euergetes
while Eulaeus cries and howls were still audible on the stairs.  "And you
see that I know how to punish those who dare to offend a guest."

"He has only met with the portion he has deserved for years," replied
Publius.  "But now that we stand face to face, man to man, I must close
my account with you too.  In your service and by your orders Eulaeus set
two assassins to lie in wait for me--"

"Publius Cornelius Scipio!" cried the king, interrupting his enemy in an
ominous tone; but the Roman went on, calmly and quietly:

"I am saying nothing that I cannot support by witnesses; and I have truly
set forth, in two letters, that king Euergetes during the past night has
attempted the life of an ambassador from Rome.  One of these despatches
is addressed to my father, the other to Popilius Lamas, and both are
already on their way to Rome.  I have given instructions that they are to
be opened if, in the course of three months reckoned from the present
date, I have not demanded them back.  You see you must needs make it
convenient to protect my life, and to carry out whatever I may require of
you.  If you obey my will in everything I may demand, all that has
happened this night shall remain a secret between you and me and a third
person, for whose silence I will be answerable; this I promise you, and I
never broke my word."

"Speak," said the king flinging himself on the couch, and plucking the
feathers from the fan Cleopatra had forgotten, while Publius went on
speaking.

"First I demand a free pardon for Philotas of Syracuse, 'relative of the
king,' and president of the body of the Chrematistes, his immediate
release, with his wife, from their forced labor, and their return from
the mines."

"They both are dead," said Euergetes, "my brother can vouch for it."

"Then I require you to have it declared by special decree that Philotas
was condemned unjustly, and that he is reinstated in all the dignities he
was deprived of.  I farther demand that you permit me and my friend
Lysias of Corinth, as well as Apollodorus the sculptor, to quit Egypt
without let or hindrance, and with us Klea and Irene, the daughters of
Philotas, who serve as water-bearers in the temple of Serapis.--Do you
hesitate as to your reply?"

"No," answered the king, and he tossed up his hand.  "For this once I
have lost the game."

"The daughters of Philotas, Klea and Irene," continued Publius with
imperturbable coolness, "are to have the confiscated estates of their
parents restored to them."

"Then your sweetheart's beauty does not satisfy you!" interposed
Euergetes satirically.

"It amply satisfies me.  My last demand is that half of this wealth shall
be assigned to the temple of Serapis, so that the god may give up his
serving-maidens willingly, and without raising any objections.  The other
half shall be handed over to Dicearchus, my agent in Alexandria, because
it is my will that Klea and Irene shall not enter my own house or that of
Lysias in Corinth as wives, without the dowry that beseems their rank.
Now, within one hour, I must have both the decree and the act of
restitution in my hands, for as soon as Juventius Thalna arrives here--
and I expect him, as I told you this very day--we propose to leave
Memphis, and to take ship at Alexandria."

"A strange conjuncture!" cried Euergetes.  "You deprive me alike of my
revenge and my love, and yet I see myself compelled to wish you a
pleasant journey.  I must offer a sacrifice to Poseidon, to the Cyprian
goddess, and to the Dioscurides that they may vouchsafe your ship a
favorable voyage, although it will carry the man who in the future, can
do us more injury at Rome by his bitter hostility, than any other."

"I shall always take the part of which ever of you has justice on his
side."

Publius quitted the room with a proud wave of his hand, and Euergetes,
as soon as the door had closed behind the Roman, sprang from his couch,
shook his clenched fist in angry threat, and cried:

You, you obstinate fellow and your haughty patrician clan may do me
mischief enough by the Tiber; and yet perhaps I may win the game in spite
of you!

"You cross my path in the name of the Roman Senate.  If Philometor waits
in the antechambers of consuls and senators we certainly may chance to
meet there, but I shall also try my luck with the people and the
tribunes.

"It is very strange!  This head of mine hits upon more good ideas in an
hour than a cool fellow like that has in a year, and yet I am beaten by
him--and if I am honest I can not but confess that it was not his luck
alone, but his shrewdness that gained the victory.  He may be off as soon
as he likes with his proud Hera--I can find a dozen Aphrodites in
Alexandria in her place!

"I resemble Hellas and he Rome, such as they are at present.  We flutter
in the sunshine, and seize on all that satisfies our intellect or
gratifies our senses: they gaze at the earth, but walk on with a firm
step to seek power and profit.  And thus they get ahead of us, and yet--
I would not change with them."




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A debtor, says the proverb, is half a prisoner
Old women grow like men, and old men grow like women
They get ahead of us, and yet--I would not change with them






ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE SISTERS, COMPLETE:

A subdued tone generally provokes an equally subdued answer
A mere nothing in one man's life, to another may be great
A debtor, says the proverb, is half a prisoner
Air of a professional guide
And what is great--and what is small
Before you serve me up so bitter a meal (the truth)
Behold, the puny Child of Man
Blind tenderness which knows no reason
By nature she is not and by circumstances is compelled to be
Deceit is deceit
Desire to seek and find a power outside us
Evolution and annihilation
Flattery is a key to the heart
Hold pleasure to be the highest good
If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon
Inquisitive eyes are intrusive company
Man is the measure of all things
Man works with all his might for no one but himself
Many a one would rather be feared than remain unheeded
Museum of Alexandria and the Library
Not yet fairly come to the end of yesterday
Nothing permanent but change
Nothing so certain as that nothing is certain
Old women grow like men, and old men grow like women
One hand washes the other
Prefer deeds to words
Priests that they should instruct the people to be obedient
The altar where truth is mocked at
They get ahead of us, and yet--I would not change with them
Virtues are punished in this world
What are we all but puny children?
Who can be freer than he who needs nothing
Who only puts on his armor when he is threatened






JOSHUA, Complete

By Georg Ebers


Translated from the German by Mary J. Safford



PREFACE.

Last winter I resolved to complete this book, and while giving it the
form in which it now goes forth into the world, I was constantly reminded
of the dear friend to whom I intended to dedicate it.  Now I am permitted
to offer it only to the manes of Gustav Baur; for a few months ago death
snatched him from us.

Every one who was allowed to be on terms of intimacy with this man feels
his departure from earth as an unspeakably heavy loss, not only because
his sunny, cheerful nature and brilliant intellect brightened the souls
of his friends; not only because he poured generously from the
overflowing cornucopia of his rich knowledge precious gifts to those with
whom he stood in intellectual relations, but above all because of the
loving heart which beamed through his clear eyes, and enabled him to
share the joys and sorrows of others, and enter into their thoughts and
feelings.

To my life's end I shall not forget that during the last few years,
himself physically disabled and overburdened by the duties imposed by the
office of professor and counsellor of the Consistory, he so often found
his way to me, a still greater invalid.  The hours he then permitted me
to spend in animated conversation with him are among those which,
according to old Horace, whom he know so thoroughly and loved so well,
must be numbered among the 'good ones'.  I have done so, and whenever I
gratefully recall them, in my ear rings my friend's question:

"What of the story of the Exodus?"

After I had told him that in the midst of the desert, while following the
traces of the departing Hebrews, the idea had occurred to me of treating
their wanderings in the form of a romance, he expressed his approval in
the eager, enthusiastic manner natural to him.  When I finally entered
farther into the details of the sketch outlined on the back of a camel,
he never ceased to encourage me, though he thoroughly understood my
scruples and fully appreciated the difficulties which attended the
fulfilment of my task.

So in a certain degree this book is his, and the inability to offer it
to the living man and hear his acute judgment is one of the griefs which
render it hard to reconcile oneself to the advancing years which in other
respects bring many a joy.

Himself one of the most renowned, acute and learned students and
interpreters of the Bible, he was perfectly familiar with the critical
works the last five years have brought to light in the domain of Old
Testament criticism.  He had taken a firm stand against the views of the
younger school, who seek to banish the Exodus of the Jews from the
province of history and represent it as a later production of the myth-
making popular mind; a theory we both believed untenable.  One of his
remarks on this subject has lingered in my memory and ran nearly as
follows:

"If the events recorded in the Second Book of Moses--which I believe are
true--really never occurred, then nowhere and at no period has a
historical event of equally momentous result taken place.  For thousands
of years the story of the Exodus has lived in the minds of numberless
people as something actual, and it still retains its vitality.  Therefore
it belongs to history no less certainty than the French Revolution and
its consequences."

Notwithstanding such encouragement, for a long series of years I lacked
courage to finish the story of the Exodus until last winter an unexpected
appeal from abroad induced me to resume it.  After this I worked
uninterruptedly with fresh zeal and I may say renewed pleasure at the
perilous yet fascinating task until its completion.

The locality of the romance, the scenery as we say of the drama, I have
copied as faithfully as possible from the landscapes I beheld in Goshen
and on the Sinai peninsula.  It will agree with the conception of many of
the readers of "Joshua."

The case will be different with those portions of the story which I have
interwoven upon the ground of ancient Egyptian records.  They will
surprise the laymen; for few have probably asked themselves how the
events related in the Bible from the standpoint of the Jews affected the
Egyptians, and what political conditions existed in the realm of Pharaoh
when the Hebrews left it.  I have endeavored to represent these relations
with the utmost fidelity to the testimony of the monuments.  For the
description of the Hebrews, which is mentioned in the Scriptures, the
Bible itself offers the best authority.  The character of the "Pharaoh of
the Exodus" I also copied from the Biblical narrative, and the portraits
of the weak King Menephtah, which have been preserved, harmonize
admirably with it.  What we have learned of later times induced me to
weave into the romance the conspiracy of Siptah, the accession to the
throne of Seti II., and the person of the Syrian Aarsu who, according to
the London Papyrus Harris I., after Siptah had become king, seized the
government.

The Naville excavations have fixed the location of Pithom-Succoth beyond
question, and have also brought to light the fortified store-house of
Pithom (Succoth) mentioned in the Bible; and as the scripture says the
Hebrews rested in this place and thence moved farther on, it must be
supposed that they overpowered the garrison of the strong building and
seized the contents of the spacious granaries, which are in existence at
the present day.

In my "Egypt and the Books of Moses" which appeared in 1868, I stated
that the Biblical Etham was the same as the Egyptian Chetam, that is, the
line of fortresses which protected the isthmus of Suez from the attacks
of the nations of the East, and my statement has long since found
universal acceptance.  Through it, the turning back of the Hebrews before
Etham is intelligible.

The mount where the laws were given I believe was the majestic Serbal,
not the Sinai of the monks; the reasons for which I explained fully in my
work "Through Goshen to Sinai."  I have also--in the same volume--
attempted to show that the halting-place of the tribes called in the
Bible "Dophkah" was the deserted mines of the modern Wadi Maghara.

By the aid of the mental and external experiences of the characters,
whose acts have in part been freely guided by the author's imagination,
he has endeavored to bring nearer to the sympathizing reader the human
side of the mighty destiny of the nation which it was incumbent on him to
describe.  If he has succeeded in doing so, without belittling the
magnificent Biblical narrative, he has accomplished his desire; if he has
failed, he must content himself with the remembrance of the pleasure and
mental exaltation he experienced during the creation of this work.

Tutzing on the Starnberger See,
September 20th, 1889.
GEORG EBERS.



JOSHUA.

CHAPTER I.

"Go down, grandfather: I will watch."

But the old man to whom the entreaty was addressed shook his shaven head.

"Yet you can get no rest here......

"And the stars?  And the tumult below?  Who can think of rest in hours
like these?  Throw my cloak around me!  Rest--on such a night of horror!"

"You are shivering.  And how your hand and the instrument are shaking."

"Then support my arm."

The youth dutifully obeyed the request; but in a short time he exclaimed:
"Vain, all is vain; star after star is shrouded by the murky clouds.
Alas, hear the wailing from the city.  Ah, it rises from our own house
too.  I am so anxious, grandfather, feel how my head burns! Come down,
perhaps they need help."

"Their fate is in the hands of the gods--my place is here.

"But there--there!  Look northward across the lake.  No, farther to the
west.  They are coming from the city of the dead."

"Oh, grandfather!  Father--there!"  cried the youth, a grandson of the
astrologer of Amon-Ra, to whom he was lending his aid.  They were
standing in the observatory of the temple of this god in Tanis, the
Pharaoh's capital in the north of the land of Goshen.  He moved away,
depriving the old man of the support of his shoulder, as he continued:
"There, there!  Is the sea sweeping over the land?  Have the clouds
dropped on the earth to heave to and fro?  Oh, grandfather, look yonder!
May the Immortals have pity on us!  The under-world is yawning, and the
giant serpent Apep has come forth from the realm of the dead.  It is
moving past the temple.  I see, I hear it.  The great Hebrew's menace is
approaching fulfilment.  Our race will be effaced from the earth.  The
serpent!  Its head is turned toward the southeast.  It will devour the
sun when it rises in the morning."

The old man's eyes followed the youth's finger, and he, too, perceived a
huge, dark mass, whose outlines blended with the dusky night, come
surging through the gloom; he, too, heard, with a thrill of terror, the
monster's loud roar.

Both stood straining their eyes and ears to pierce the darkness; but
instead of gazing upward the star-reader's eye was bent upon the city,
the distant sea, and the level plain.  Deep silence, yet no peace reigned
above them: the high wind now piled the dark clouds into shapeless
masses, anon severed that grey veil and drove the torn fragments far
asunder.  The moon was invisible to mortal eyes, but the clouds were
toying with the bright Southern stars, sometimes hiding them, sometimes
affording a free course for their beams.  Sky and earth alike showed a
constant interchange of pallid light and intense darkness.  Sometimes the
sheen of the heavenly bodies flashed brightly from sea and bay, the
smooth granite surfaces of the obelisks in the precincts of the temple,
and the gilded copper roof of the airy royal palace, anon sea and river,
the sails in the harbor, the sanctuaries, the streets of the city, and
the palm-grown plain which surrounded it vanished in gloom.  Eye and ear
failed to retain the impression of the objects they sought to discern;
for sometimes the silence was so profound that all life, far and near,
seemed hushed and dead, then a shrill shriek of anguish pierced the
silence of the night, followed at longer or shorter intervals by the loud
roar the youthful priest had mistaken for the voice of the serpent of the
nether-world, and to which grandfather and grandson listened with
increasing suspense.

The dark shape, whose incessant motion could be clearly perceived
whenever the starlight broke through the clouds, appeared first near the
city of the dead and the strangers' quarter.  Both the youth and the old
man had been seized with terror, but the latter was the first to regain
his self-control, and his keen eye, trained to watch the stars, speedily
discovered that it was not a single giant form emerging from the city of
the dead upon the plain, but a multitude of moving shapes that seemed to
be swaying hither and thither over the meadow lands.  The bellowing and
bleating, too, did not proceed from one special place, but came now