A loud out-cry rose behind the first chariot, and Ephraim heard another

voice shout:

"Forward, if it costs the horses their lives!"

"If return were possible," said the commander of the chariot-soldiers, a
relative of the king, "I would go back now.  But as matters are, one
would tumble over the other.  So forward, whatever it may cost.  We are
close on their heels.  Halt!  Halt!  That accursed stinging smoke!  Wait,
you dogs!  As soon as the pathway widens, we'll run you down with scant
ceremony, and may the gods deprive me of a day of life for each one I
spare!  Another torch out!  One can't see one's hand before one's face!
At a time like this a beggar's crutch would be better than a leader's
staff"

"And an executioner's noose round the neck rather than a gold chain!"
said another with a fierce oath.

"If the moon would only appear again!  Because the astrologers predicted
that it would shine in full splendor from evening till morning, I myself
advised the late departure, turning night into day.  If it were only
lighter!  .  .  .  ."

But this sentence remained unfinished, for a gust of wind, bursting like
a wild beast from the south-eastern ravine of Mount Baal-zephon, rushed
upon the fugitives, and a high wave drenched Ephraim from head to foot.

Gasping for breath, he flung back his hair and wiped his eyes; but loud
cries of terror rang from the lips of the Egyptians behind him; for the
same wave that struck the youth had hurled the foremost chariots into the
sea.

Ephraim began to fear for his people and, while running forward to join
them again, a brilliant flash of lightning illumined the bay, Mount Baal-
zephon, and every surrounding object.  The thunder was somewhat long in
following, but the storm soon came nearer, and at last the lightning no
longer flashed through the darkness in zigzag lines, but in shapeless
sheets of flame, and ere they faded the deafening crash of the thunder
pealed forth, reverberating in wild uproar amid the hard, rocky
precipices of the rugged mountain, and dying away in deep, muttering
echoes along the end of the bay and the shore.

Whenever the clouds, menacing destruction, discharged their lightnings,
sea and land, human beings and animals, far and near, were illumined by
the brilliant glare, while the waters and the sky above were tinged with
a sulphurous yellow hue through which the vivid lightning shone and
flamed as through a wall of yellow glass.

Ephraim now thought he perceived that the blackest thunder-clouds came
from the south and not from the north, but the glare of the lightning
showed behind him a span of frightened horses rushing into the sea, one
chariot shattered against another, and farther on several jammed firmly
together to the destruction of their occupants, while they barred the
progress of others.

Yet the foe still advanced, and the space which separated pursued and
pursuers did not increase.  But the confusion among the latter had become
so great that the warriors' cries of terror and their leaders' shouts of
encouragement and menace were distinctly heard whenever the fierce
crashing of the thunder died away.

Yet, black as were the clouds on the southern horizon, fiercely as the
tempest raged, the gloomy sky still withheld its floods and the fugitives
were wet, not with the water from the clouds but by the waves of the sea,
whose surges constantly dashed higher and more and more frequently washed
the dry bed of the bay.

Narrower and narrower grew the pathway, and with it the end of the
procession.

Meanwhile the flames blazing in the pitch pans continued to show the
terrified fugitives the goal of escape and remind them of Moses and the
staff God had given him.  Every step brought them nearer to it.  Now a
loud shout of joy announced that the tribe of Benjamin had also reached
the shore; but they had at last been obliged to wade, and were drenched
by the foaming surf.  It had cost unspeakable effort to save the oxen
from the surging waves, get the loaded carts forward, and keep the cattle
together; but now man and beast stood safe on shore.  Only the strangers
and the lepers were still to be rescued.  The latter possessed no herds
of their own, but the former had many and both sheep and cattle were so
terrified by the storm that they struggled against passing through the
water, now a foot deep over the road.  Ephraim hurried to the shore,
called on the shepherds to follow him and, under his direction, they
helped drive the herds forward.

The attempt was successful and, amid the thunder and lightning, greeted
with loud cheers, the last man and the last head of cattle reached the
land.

The lepers were obliged to wade through water rising to their knees and
at last to their waists and, ere they had gained the shore, the sluices
of heaven opened and the rain poured in torrents.  Yet they, too, arrived
at the goal and though many a mother who had carried her child a long
time in her arms or on her shoulder, fell upon her knees exhausted on the
land, and many a hapless sufferer who, aided by a stronger companion in
misery, had dragged the carts through the yielding sand or wading in the
water carried a litter, felt his disfigured head burn with fever, they,
too, escaped destruction.

They were to wait beyond the palm-trees, whose green foliage appeared on
the hilly ground at the edge of some springs near the shore; the others
were to be led farther into the country to begin, at a given signal, the
journey toward the southeast into the mountains, through whose
inhospitable stony fastnesses a regular army and the war-chariots could
advance only with the utmost difficulty.

Hur had assembled his shepherds and they stood armed with lances, slings,
and short swords, ready to attack the enemy who ventured to step on
shore.  Horses and men were to be cut down and a high wall was to be made
of the fragments of the chariots to bar the way of the pursuing
Egyptians.

The pans of burning pitch on the shore were shielded and fed so
industriously that neither the pouring rain nor the wind extinguished
them.  They were to light the shepherds who had undertaken to attack the
chariot-soldiers, and were commanded by old Nun, Hur, and Ephraim.

But they waited in vain for the pursuers, and when the youth, first of
all, perceived by the light of the torches that the way by which the
rescued fugitives had come was now a wide sea, and the smoke was blown
toward the north instead of toward the southwest--it was at the time of
the first morning watch--his heart, surcharged with joy and gratitude,
sent forth the jubilant shout: "Look at the pans.  The wind has shifted!
It is driving the sea northward.  Pharaoh's army has been swallowed by
the waves!"

The group of rescued Hebrews remained silent for a short time; but
suddenly Nun's loud voice exclaimed:

"He has  seen aright, children!  What are we mortals!  Lord, Lord!  Stern
and terrible art Thou in judgment upon Thy foes!"

Here loud cries interrupted him; for at the springs where Moses leaned
exhausted against a palm-tree, and Aaron was resting with many others,
the people had also perceived what Ephraim had noticed--and from lip to
lip ran the glad, terrible, incredible, yet true tidings, which each
passing moment more surely confirmed.

Many an eye was raised toward the sky, across which the black clouds were
rushing farther and farther northward.

The rain was ceasing; instead of the lightning and thunder only a few
pale flashes were seen over the isthmus and the distant sea at the north,
while in the south the sky was brightening.

At last the setting moon emerged from the grey clouds, and her peaceful
light silvered the heights of Baal-zephon and the shore of the bay, whose
bottom was once more covered with tossing waves.

The raging, howling storm had passed into the low sighing of the morning
breeze, and the sea, which had dashed against the rocks like a roaring
wild-beast, now lay quivering with broken strength at the stone base of
the mountain.

For a short time the sea still spread a dark pall over the many Egyptian
corpses, but the paling moon, ere her setting, splendidly embellished the
briny resting-place of a king and his nobles; for her rays illumined and
bordered their coverlet, the sea, with a rich array of sparkling diamonds
in a silver setting.

While the east was brightening and the sky had clothed itself in the
glowing hues of dawn, the camp had been pitched; but little time remained
for a hasty meal for, shortly after sunrise, the gong had summoned the
people and, as soon as they gathered near the springs, Miriam swung her
timbrel, shaking the bells and striking the calf-skin till it resounded
again.  As she moved lightly forward, the women and maidens followed her
in the rhythmic step of the dance; but she sang:

"I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse
and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.

"The Lord is my strength and song, and he is become my salvation: he is
my God, and I will prepare him an habitation; my father's God, and I will
exalt him.

"The Lord is a man of war: the Lord is his name.  "Pharaoh's chariots and
his host hath he cast into the sea: his chosen captains also are drowned
in the Red Sea.

"The depths have covered them: they sank into the bottom as a stone.

"Thy right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power: thy right hand, O
Lord, hath dashed in pieces the enemy.

"And in the greatness of thine excellency thou hast overthrown them that
rose up against thee: thou sentest forth thy wrath, which consumed them
as stubble.

"And with the blast of thy nostrils the waters were gathered together,
the floods stood upright as an heap, and the depths were congealed in the
heart of the sea.

"The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil;
my lust shall be satisfied upon them; I will draw my sword, my hand shall
destroy them.

"Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them: they sank as lead
in the mighty waters.

"Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods?  Who is like thee,
glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?

"Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, the earth swallowed them.

"Thou, in thy mercy hast led forth the people which thou hast redeemed:
thou hast guided them in thy strength unto thy holy habitation."

Men and women joined in the song, when she repeated the words:

"I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: the horse
and his rider hath he thrown into the sea."

This song and this hour of rejoicing were never forgotten by the Hebrews,
and each heart was filled with the glory of God and the glad and grateful
anticipation of better, happier days.




CHAPTER XXIII.

The hymn of praise had died away, but though the storm had long since
raged itself into calmness, the morning sky, which had been beautiful in
the rosy flush of dawn, was again veiled by grey mists, and a strong wind
still blew from the southwest, lashing the sea and shaking and swaying
the tops of the palm-trees beside the springs.

The rescued people had paid due honor to the Most High, even the most
indifferent and rebellious had joined in Miriam's song of praise; yet,
when the ranks of the dancers approached the sea, many left the
procession to hurry to the shore, which presented many attractions.

Hundreds had now gathered on the strand, where the waves, like generous
robbers, washed ashore the booty they had seized during the night.

Even the women did not allow the wind to keep them back; for the two
strongest impulses of the human heart, avarice and the longing for
vengeance, drew them to the beach.

Some new object of desire appeared every moment; here lay the corpse of a
warrior, yonder his shattered chariot.  If the latter had belonged to a
man of rank, its gold or silver ornaments were torn off, while the short
sword or battle-axe was drawn from the girdle of the lifeless owner, and
men and women of low degree, male and female slaves belonging to the
Hebrews and foreigners, robbed the corpses of the clasps and circlets of
the precious metal, or twisted the rings from the swollen fingers of the
drowned.

The ravens which had followed the wandering tribes and vanished during
the storm, again appeared and, croaking, struggled against the wind to
maintain their places above the prey whose scent had attracted them.

But the dregs of the fugitive hordes were still more greedy than they,
and wherever the sea washed a costly ornament ashore, there were fierce
outcries and angry quarrelling.  The leaders kept aloof; the people, they
thought, had a right to this booty, and whenever one of them undertook to
control their rude greed, he received no obedience.

The pass to which the Egyptians had brought them within the last few
hours had been so terrible, that even the better natures among the
Hebrews did not think of curbing the thirst for vengeance.  Even grey-
bearded men of dignified bearing, and wives and mothers whose looks
augured gentle hearts thrust back the few hapless foes who had succeeded
in reaching the land on the ruins of the war-chariots or baggage-wagons.
With shepherds' crooks and travelling staves, knives and axes, stones and
insults they forced their hands from the floating wood, and the few who
nevertheless reached the land were flung by the furious mob into the sea
which had taken pity on them in vain.

Their wrath was so great, and vengeance so sacred a duty, that no one
thought of the respect, the pity, the consideration, which are
misfortune's due, and not a word was uttered to appeal to generosity or
compassion or even to remind the people of the profit which might be
derived from holding the rescued soldiers as prisoners of war.

"Death to our mortal foes!  Destruction to them!  Down with them!  Feed
the fishes with them!  You drove us into the sea with our children, now
try the salt waves yourselves!"

Such were the shouts that rose everywhere, and which no one opposed, not
even Miriam and Ephraim, who had also gone down to the shore to witness
the scene it presented.

The maiden had become the wife of Hur, but her new condition had made
little change in her nature and conduct.  The fate of her people and the
intercourse with God, whose prophetess she felt herself to be, were still
her highest aims.  Now that all for which she had hoped and prayed was
fulfilled; now that at the first great triumph of her efforts she had
expressed the feelings of the faithful in her song, she felt as if she
were the leader of the grateful multitude at whose head she had marched
singing and as if she had attained the goal of her life.

Ephraim had reminded her of Hosea and, while talking with him about the
prisoner, she moved on as proudly as a queen, answering the greetings of
the throng with majestic dignity.  Her eyes sparkled with joy, and her
features wore an expression of compassion only at brief intervals, when
the youth spoke of the greatest sufferings which he had borne with his
uncle.  She doubtless still remembered the man she had loved, but he was
no longer necessary to the lofty goal of her aspirations.

Ephraim had just spoken of the beautiful Egyptian, who had loved Hosea
and at whose intercession the prisoner's chains had been removed, when
loud outcries were heard at a part of the strand where many of the people
had gathered.  Shouts of joy mingled with yells of fury; and awakened the
conjecture that the sea had washed some specially valuable prize ashore.

Curiosity drew both to the spot, and as Miriam's stately bearing made the
throng move respectfully aside, they soon saw the mournful contents of a
large travelling-chariot, which had lost its wheels.  The linen canopy
which had protected it was torn away, and on the floor lay two elderly
Egyptian women; a third, who was much younger, leaned against the back of
the vehicle thus strangely transformed into a boat.  Her companions lay
dead in the water which had covered its floor, and several Hebrew women
were in the act of tearing the costly gold ornaments from the neck and
arms of one of the corpses.  Some chance had preserved this young woman's
life, and she was now giving her rich jewels to the Israelites.  Her pale
lips and slender, half-frozen hands trembled as she did so, and in low,
musical tones she promised the robbers to yield them all she possessed
and pay a large ransom, if they would spare her.  She was so young, and
she had shown kindness to a Hebrew surely they might listen to her.

It was a touching entreaty, but so often interrupted by threats and
curses that only a few could hear it.  Just as Ephraim and Miriam reached
the shore she shrieked aloud--a rude hand had torn the gold serpent from
her ear.

The cry pierced the youth's heart like a dagger-thrust and his cheeks
paled, for he recognized Kasana.  The bodies beside her were those of her
nurse and the wife of the chief priest Bai.

Scarcely able to control himself, Ephraim thrust aside the men who
separated him from the object of the moment's assault, sprang on the
sand-hill at whose foot the chariot had rested, and shouted with glowing
cheeks in wild excitement:

"Back!  Woe to any one who touches her!"

But a Hebrew woman, the wife of a brickmaker whose child had died in
terrible convulsions during the passage through the sea, had already
snatched the dagger from her girdle, and with the jeering cry "This for
my little Ruth, you jade!"  dealt her a blow in the back.  Then she
raised the tiny blood-stained weapon for a second stroke; but ere she
could give her enemy another thrust, Ephraim flung himself between her
and her victim and wrenched the dagger from her grasp.  Then planting
himself before the wounded girl, he swung the blade aloft exclaiming in
loud, threatening tones:

"Whoever touches her, you robbers and murderers, shall mingle his blood
with this woman's."  Then he flung himself beside Kasana's bleeding form,
and finding that she had lost consciousness, raised her in his arms and
carried her to Miriam.

The astonished plunderers speechlessly made way for a few minutes, but
ere he reached the prophetess shouts of: "Vengeance!  Vengeance!"  were
heard in all directions.  "We found the woman: the booty belongs to us
alone!--How dares the insolent Ephraimite call us robbers and murderers?
--Wherever Egyptian blood can be spilled, it must flow!--At him!--Snatch
the girl from him!"

The youth paid no heed to these outbursts of wrath until he had laid
Kasana's head in the lap of Miriam, who had seated herself on the nearest
sand-hill, and as the angry throng, the women in front of the men,
pressed upon him, he again waved his dagger, crying: "Back--I command
you.  Let all of the blood of Ephraim and Judah rally around me and
Miriam, the wife of their chief!  That's right, brothers, and woe betide
any hand that touches her.  Do you shriek for vengeance?  Has it not been
yours through yonder monster who murdered the poor defenceless one?  Do
you want your victim's jewels?  Well, well; they belong to you, and I
will give you mine to boot, if you will leave the wife of Hur to care for
this dying girl!"

With these words he bent over Kasana, took off the clasps and rings she
still wore, and gave them to the greedy hands outstretched to seize them.
Lastly he stripped the broad gold circlet from his arm, and holding it
aloft exclaimed:

"Here is the promised payment.  If you will depart quietly and leave this
woman to Miriam, I will give you the gold, and you can divide it among
you.  If you thirst for more blood, come on; but I will keep the armlet."

These words did not fail to produce their effect.  The furious women
looked at the heavy broad gold armlet, then at the handsome youth, and
the men of Judah and Ephraim who had gathered around him, and finally
glanced enquiringly into one another's faces.  At last the wife of a
foreign trader cried:

"Let him give us the gold, and we'll leave the handsome young chief his
bleeding sweetheart."

To this decision the others agreed, and though the brickmaker's
infuriated wife, who thought as the avenger of her child she had done
an act pleasing in the sight of God, and was upbraided for it as a
murderess, reviled the youth with frantic gestures, she was dragged
away by the crowd to the shore where they hoped to find more booty.

During this threatening transaction, Miriam had fearlessly examined
Kasana's wound and bound it up with skilful hands,  The dagger which
Prince Siptah had jestingly given the beautiful lady of his love, that
she might not go to war defenceless, had inflicted a deep wound under the
shoulder, and the blood had flowed so abundantly that the feeble spark of
life threatened to die out at any moment.

But she still lived, and in this condition was borne to the tent of Nun,
which was the nearest within reach.

The old chief had just been supplying weapons to the shepherds and youths
whom Ephraim had summoned to go to the relief of the imprisoned Hosea,
and had promised to join them, when the mournful procession approached.

As Kasana loved the handsome old man, the latter had for many years kept
a place in his heart for Captain Homecht's pretty daughter.

She had never met him without gladdening him by a greeting which he
always returned with kind words, such as: "The Lord bless you, child!"
or: "It is a delightful hour when an old man meets so fair a creature."
Many years before--she had then worn the curls of childhood--he had even
sent her a lamb, whose snowy fleece was specially silky, after having
bartered the corn from her father's lands for cattle of his most famous
breed--and what his son had told him of Kasana had been well fitted to
increase his regard for her.

He beheld in the archer's daughter the most charming young girl in Tanis
and, had she been the child of Hebrew parents, he would have rejoiced to
wed her to his son.

To find his darling in such a state caused the old man grief so profound
that bright tears ran down upon his snowy beard and his voice trembled
as, while greeting her, he saw the blood-stained bandage on her shoulder.

After she had been laid on his couch, and Nun had placed his own chest of
medicines at the disposal of the skilful prophetess, Miriam asked the men
to leave her alone with the suffering Egyptian, and when she again called
them into the tent she had revived the strength of the severely-wounded
girl with cordials, and bandaged the hurt more carefully than had been
possible before.

Kasana, cleansed from the blood-stains and with her hair neatly arranged,
lay beneath the fresh linen coverings like a sleeping child just on the
verge of maidenhood.

She was still breathing, but the color had not returned to cheeks or
lips, and she did not open her eyes until she had drunk the cordial
Miriam mixed for her a second time.

The old man and his grandson stood at the foot of her couch, and each
would fain have asked the other why he could not restrain his tears
whenever he looked at this stranger's face.

The certainty that Kasana was wicked and faithless, which had so
unexpectedly forced itself upon Ephraim, had suddenly turned his heart
from her and startled him back into the right path which he had
abandoned.  Yet what he had heard in her tent had remained a profound
secret, and as he told his grandfather and Miriam that she had
compassionately interceded for the prisoners, and both had desired to
hear more of her, he had felt like a father who had witnessed the crime
of a beloved son, and no word of the abominable things he had heard had
escaped his lips.

Now he rejoiced that he had kept silence; for whatever he might have seen
and heard, this fair creature certainly was capable of no base deed.

To the old man she had never ceased to be the lovely child whom he had
known, the apple of his eye and the joy of his heart.  So he gazed with
tender anxiety at the features convulsed by pain and, when she at last
opened her eyes, smiled at her with paternal affection.  Her glance
showed that she instantly recognized both him and Ephraim, but weakness
baffled her attempt to nod to them.  Yet her expressive face revealed
surprise and joy, and when Miriam had given her the cordial a third time
and bathed her brow with a powerful essence, her large eyes wandered from
face to face and, noticing the troubled looks of the men, she managed to
whisper:

"The wound aches--and death--must I die?"  One looked enquiringly at
another, and the men would gladly have concealed the terrible truth; but
she went on:

"Oh, let me know.  Ah, I pray you, tell me the truth!"

Miriam, who was kneeling beside her, found courage to answer:

"Yes, you poor young creature, the wound is deep, but whatever my skill
can accomplish shall be done to preserve your life as long as possible."

The words sounded kind and full of compassion, yet the deep voice of the
prophetess seemed to hurt Kasana; for her lips quivered painfully while
Miriam was speaking, and when she ceased, her eyes closed and one large
tear after another ran down her cheeks.  Deep, anxious silence reigned
around her until she again raised her lashes and, fixing her eyes wearily
on Miriam, asked softly, as if perplexed by some strange spectacle:

"You are a woman, and yet practise the art of the leech."

"My God has commanded me to care for the suffering ones of our people,"
replied the other.

The dying girl's eyes began to glitter with a restless light, and she
gasped in louder tones, nay with a firmness that surprised the others:

"You are Miriam, the woman who sent for Hosea."  And when the other
answered promptly and proudly: "It is as you say!"  Kasana continued:

"And you possess striking, imperious beauty, and much influence.  He
obeyed your summons, and you--you consented to wed another?"

Again the prophetess answered, this time with gloomy earnestness:  "It is
as you say."

The dying girl closed her eyes once more, and a strange proud smile
hovered around her lips.  But it soon vanished and a great and painful
restlessness seized upon her.  The fingers of her little hands, her lips,
nay, even her eyelids moved perpetually, and her smooth, narrow forehead
contracted as if some great thought occupied her mind.

At last the ideas that troubled her found utterance and, as if roused
from her repose, she exclaimed in terrified accents:

"You are Ephraim, who seemed like his son, and the old man is Nun, his
dear father.  There you stand and will live on....  But I--I ....  Oh, it
is so hard to leave the light....  Anubis will lead me before the
judgment seat of Osiris.  My heart will be weighed, and then...."

Here she shuddered and opened and closed her trembling hands; but she
soon regained her composure and began to speak again.  Miriam, however,
sternly forbade this, because it would hasten her death.

Then the sufferer, summoning all her strength, exclaimed hastily, as
loudly as her voice would permit, after measuring the prophetess' tall
figure with a long glance: "You wish to prevent me from doing my duty--
you?"

There had been a slight touch of mockery in the question; but Kasana
doubtless felt that it was necessary to spare her strength; for she
continued far more quietly, as though talking to herself:

"I cannot die so, I cannot!  How it happened; why I sacrificed all,
all....  I must atone for it; I will not complain, if he only learns how
it came to pass.  Oh, Nun, dear old Nun, who gave me the lamb when I was
a little thing--I loved it so dearly--and you, Ephraim, my dear boy, I
will tell you everything."

Here a painful fit of coughing interrupted her; but as soon as she
recovered her breath, she turned to Miriam, and called in a tone which
so plainly expressed bitter dislike, that it would have surprised any
one who knew her kindly nature:

"But you, yonder,--you tall woman with the deep voice who are a
physician, you lured him from Tanis, from his soldiers and from me.  He,
he obeyed your summons.  And you .  .  .  .  you became another's wife;
probably after his arrival ....  yes!  For when Ephraim summoned him, he
called you a maiden .  .  .  I don't know whether this caused him, Hosea,
pain ....  But there is one thing I do know, and that is that I want to
confess something and must do so, ere it is too late....  And no one must
hear it save those who love him, and I--do you hear--I love him, love him
better than aught else on earth!  But you?  You have a husband, and a God
whose commands you eagerly obey--you say so yourself.  What can Hosea be
to you?  So I beseech you to leave us.  I have met few who repelled me,
but you--your voice, your eyes--they pierce me to the heart--and if you
were near I could not speak as I must....  and oh, talking hurts me so!
But before you go--you are a leech--let me know this one thing--I have
many messages to leave for him ere I die....  Will it kill me to talk?"

Again the prophetess found no other words in answer except the brief:
"It is as you say," and this time they sounded harsh and ominous.

While wavering between the duty which, as a physician, she owed the
sufferer and the impulse not to refuse the request of a dying woman, she
read in old Nun's eyes an entreaty to obey Kasana's wish, and with
drooping head left the tent.  But the bitter words of the hapless girl
pursued her and spoiled the day which had begun so gloriously and also
many a later hour; nay, to her life's end she could not understand why,
in the presence of this poor, dying woman, she had been overpowered by
the feeling that she was her inferior and must take a secondary place.

As soon as Kasana was left alone with Nun and Ephraim, and the latter had
flung himself on his knees beside her couch, while the old man kissed her
brow, and bowed his white head to listen to her low words, she began:

"I feel better now.  That tall woman....  those gloomy brows that meet in
the middle....  those nightblack eyes....  they glow with so fierce a
fire, yet are so cold....  That woman....  did Hosea love her, father?
Tell me; I am not asking from idle curiosity!"

"He honored her," replied the old  man in a troubled tone, "as did our
whole nation; for she has a lofty spirit, and our God suffers her to hear
His voice; but you, my darling, have been dear to him from childhood, I
know."

A slight tremor shook the dying girl.  She closed her eyes for a short
time and a sunny smile hovered around her lips.

She lay in this attitude so long that Nun feared death had claimed her
and, holding the medicine in his hand, listened to hear her breathing.

Kasana did not seem to notice it; but when she finally opened her eyes,
she held out her hand for the cordial, drank it, and then began again:

"It seemed just as if I had seen him, Hosea.  He wore the panoply of war
just as he did the first time he took me into his arms.  I was a little
thing and felt afraid of him, he looked so grave, and my nurse had told
me that he had slain a great many of our foes.  Yet I was glad when he
came and grieved when he went away.  So the years passed, and love grew
with my growth.  My young heart was so full of him, so full....  Even
when they forced me to wed another, and after I had become a widow."

The last words had been scarcely audible, and she rested some time ere
she continued:

"Hosea knows all this, except how anxious I was when he was in the field,
and how I longed for him ere he returned.  At last, at last he came home,
and how I rejoiced!  But he, Hosea....?  That woman--Ephraim told me so--
that tall, arrogant woman summoned him to Pithom.  But he returned, and
then....  Oh, Nun, your son....  that was the hardest thing....!  He
refused my hand, which my father offered....  And how that hurt me....!
I can say no more....!  Give me the drink!"

Her cheeks had flushed crimson during these painful confessions, and when
the experienced old man perceived how rapidly the excitement under which
she was laboring hastened the approach of death, he begged her to keep
silence; but she insisted upon profiting by the time still allowed her,
and though the sharp pain with which a short cough tortured her forced
her to press her hand upon her breast, she continued:

"Then hate came; but it did not last long--and never did I love him more
ardently than when I drove after the poor convict--you remember, my boy.
Then began the horrible, wicked, evil time....  of which I must tell him
that he may not despise me, if he hears about it.  I never had a mother,
and there was no one to warn me....  Where shall I begin?  Prince Siptah
--you know him, father--that wicked man will soon rule over my country.
My father is in a conspiracy with him....  merciful gods, I can say no
more!"

Terror and despair convulsed her features as she uttered these words; but
Ephraim interrupted her and, with tearful eyes and faltering voice,
confessed that he knew all.  Then he repeated what he had heard while
listening outside of her tent, and her glance confirmed the tale.

When he finally spoke of the wife of the viceroy and chief-priest Bai,
whose body had been borne to the shore with her, Kasana interrupted him
with the low exclamation:

"She planned it all.  Her husband was to be the greatest man in the
country and rule even Pharaoh; for Siptah is not the son of a king."

"And," the old man interrupted, to quiet her and help her tell what she
desired to say, "as Bai raised, he can overthrow him.  He will become,
even more certainly than the dethroned monarch, the tool of the man who
made him king.  But I know Aarsu the Syrian, and if I see aright, the
time will come when he will himself strive, in distracted Egypt, rent by
internal disturbances, for the power which, through his mercenaries, he
aided others to grasp.  But child, what induced you to follow the army
and this shameful profligate?"

The dying girl's eyes sparkled, for the question brought her directly to
what she desired to tell, and she answered as loudly and quickly as her
weakness permitted:

"I did it for your son's sake, for love of him, to liberate Hosea.  The
evening before I had steadily and firmly refused the wife of Bai.  But
when I saw your son at the well and he, Hosea....  Oh, at last he was so
affectionate and kissed me so kindly....  and then--then....  My poor
heart!  I saw him, the best of men, perishing amid contumely and disease.

"And when he passed with chains one thought darted through my mind......"

"You determined, you dear, foolish, misguided child," cried the old man,
"to win the heart of the future king in order, through him, to release my
son, your friend?"

The dying girl again smiled assent and softly exclaimed: