This eventful day had brought much that was unexpected to our friends in
Thebes, as well as to those who lived in the Necropolis.
The Lady Katuti had risen early after a sleepless night. Nefert had come
in late, had excused her delay by shortly explaining to her mother that
she had been detained by Bent-Anat, and had then affectionately offered
her brow for a kiss of “good-night.”
When the widow was about to withdraw to her sleeping-room, and Nemu had
lighted her lamp, she remembered the secret which was to deliver Paaker
into Ani’s hands. She ordered the dwarf to impart to her what he
knew, and the little man told her at last, after sincere efforts at
resistance--for he feared for his mother’s safety--that Paaker had
administered half of a love-philter to Nefert, and that the remainder
was still in his hands.
A few hours since this information would have filled Katuti with
indignation and disgust; now, though she blamed the Mohar, she asked
eagerly whether such a drink could be proved to have any actual effect.
“Not a doubt of it,” said the dwarf, “if the whole were taken, but
Nefert only had half of it.”
At a late hour Katuti was still pacing her bedroom, thinking of Paaker’s
insane devotion, of Mena’s faithlessness, and of Nefert’s altered
demeanor; and when she went to bed, a thousand conjectures, fears, and
anxieties tormented her, while she was distressed at the change which
had come over Nefert’s love to her mother, a sentiment which of all
others should be the most sacred, and the most secure against all shock.
Soon after sunrise she went into the little temple attached to the
house, and made an offering to the statue, which, under the form of
Osiris, represented her lost husband; then she went to the temple of
Anion, where she also prayed a while, and nevertheless, on her return
home, found that her daughter had not yet made her appearance in the
hall where they usually breakfasted together.
Katuti preferred to be undisturbed during the early morning hours, and
therefore did not interfere with her daughter’s disposition to sleep far
into the day in her carefully-darkened room.
When the widow went to the temple Nefert was accustomed to take a cup of
milk in bed, then she would let herself be dressed, and when her mother
returned, she would find her in the veranda or hall, which is so well
known to the reader.
To-day however Katuti had to breakfast alone; but when she had eaten a
few mouthfuls she prepared Nefert’s breakfast--a white cake and a little
wine in a small silver beaker, carefully guarded from dust and insects
by a napkin thrown over it--and went into her daughter’s room.
She was startled at finding it empty, but she was informed that Nefert
had gone earlier than was her wont to the temple, in her litter.
With a heavy sigh she returned to the veranda, and there received
her nephew Paaker, who had come to enquire after the health of his
relatives, followed by a slave, who carried two magnificent bunches of
flowers, and by the great dog which had formerly belonged to his father.
One bouquet he said had been cut for Nefert, and the other for her
mother.
[Pictures on the monuments show that in ancient Egypt, as at the
present time, bouquets of flowers were bestowed as tokens of
friendly feeling.]
Katuti had taken quite a new interest in Paaker since she had heard of
his procuring the philter.
No other young man of the rank to which they belonged, would have
allowed himself to be so mastered by his passion for a woman as this
Paaker was, who went straight to his aim with stubborn determination,
and shunned no means that might lead to it. The pioneer, who had
grown up under her eyes, whose weaknesses she knew, and whom she was
accustomed to look down upon, suddenly appeared to her as a different
man--almost a stranger--as the deliverer of his friends, and the
merciless antagonist of his enemies.
These reflections had passed rapidly through her mind. Now her eyes
rested on the sturdy, strongly-knit figure of her nephew, and it struck
her that he bore no resemblance to his tall, handsome father. Often had
she admired her brother-in-law’s slender hand, that nevertheless could
so effectually wield a sword, but that of his son was broad and ignoble
in form.
While Paaker was telling her that he must shortly leave for Syria,
she involuntarily observed the action of this hand, which often went
cautiously to his girdle as if he had something concealed there; this
was the oval phial with the rest of the philter. Katuti observed it, and
her cheeks flushed when it occurred to her to guess what he had there.
The pioneer could not but observe Katuti’s agitation, and he said in a
tone of sympathy:
“I perceive that you are in pain, or in trouble. The master of Mena’s
stud at Hermonthis has no doubt been with you--No? He came to me
yesterday, and asked me to allow him to join my troops. He is very angry
with you, because he has been obliged to sell some of Mena’s gold-bays.
I have bought the finest of them. They are splendid creatures! Now he
wants to go to his master ‘to open his eyes,’ as he says. Lie down a
little while, aunt, you are very pale.”
Katuti did not follow this prescription; on the contrary she smiled, and
said in a voice half of anger and half of pity:
“The old fool firmly believes that the weal or woe of the family depends
on the gold-bays. He would like to go with you? To open Mena’s eyes? No
one has yet tried to bind them!”
Katuti spoke the last words in a low tone, and her glance fell. Paaker
also looked down, and was silent; but he soon recovered his presence of
mind, and said:
“If Nefert is to be long absent, I will go.”
“No--no, stay,” cried the widow. “She wished to see you, and must soon
come in. There are her cake and her wine waiting for her.”
With these words she took the napkin off the breakfast-table, held up
the beaker in her hand, and then said, with the cloth still in her hand:
“I will leave you a moment, and see if Nefert is not yet come home.”
Hardly had she left the veranda when Paaker, having convinced himself
that no one could see him, snatched the flask from his girdle, and, with
a short invocation to his father in Osiris, poured its whole contents
into the beaker, which thus was filled to the very brim. A few minutes
later Nefert and her mother entered the hall.
Paaker took up the nosegay, which his slave had laid down on a seat, and
timidly approached the young woman, who walked in with such an aspect
of decision and self-confidence, that her mother looked at her in
astonishment, while Paaker felt as if she had never before appeared
so beautiful and brilliant. Was it possible that she should love her
husband, when his breach of faith troubled her so little? Did her heart
still belong to another? Or had the love-philter set him in the place of
Mena? Yes! yes! for how warmly she greeted him. She put out her hand to
him while he was still quite far off, let it rest in his, thanked him
with feeling, and praised his fidelity and generosity.
Then she went up to the table, begged Paaker to sit down with her, broke
her cake, and enquired for her aunt Setchern, Paaker’s mother.
Katuti and Paaker watched all her movements with beating hearts.
Now she took up the beaker, and lifted it to her lips, but set it down
again to answer Paaker’s remark that she was breakfasting late.
“I have hitherto been a real lazy-bones,” she said with a blush. “But
this morning I got up early, to go and pray in the temple in the fresh
dawn. You know what has happened to the sacred ram of Amion. It is a
frightful occurrence. The priests were all in the greatest agitation,
but the venerable Bek el Chunsu received me himself, and interpreted my
dream, and now my spirit is light and contented.”
“And you did all this without me?” said Katuti in gentle reproof.
“I would not disturb you,” replied Nefert. “Besides,” she added
coloring, “you never take me to the city and the temple in the morning.”
Again she took up the wine-cup and looked into it, but without drinking
any, went on:
“Would you like to hear what I dreamed, Paaker? It was a strange
vision.”
The pioneer could hardly breathe for expectation, still he begged her to
tell her dream.
“Only think,” said Nefert, pushing the beaker on the smooth table,
which was wet with a few drops which she had spilt, “I dreamed of the
Neha-tree, down there in the great tub, which your father brought me
from Punt, when I was a little child, and which since then has grown
quite a tall tree. There is no tree in the garden I love so much, for it
always reminds me of your father, who was so kind to me, and whom I can
never forget!”
Paaker bowed assent.
Nefert looked at him, and interrupted her story when she observed his
crimson cheeks.
“It is very hot! Would you like some wine to drink---or some water?”
With these words she raised the wine-cup, and drank about half of the
contents; then she shuddered, and while her pretty face took a comical
expression, she turned to her mother, who was seated behind her and held
the beaker towards her.
“The wine is quite sour to-day!” she said. “Taste it, mother.”
Katuti took the little silver-cup in her hand, and gravely put it to her
lips, but without wetting them. A smile passed over her face, and her
eyes met those of the pioneer, who stared at her in horror. The picture
flashed before her mind of herself languishing for the pioneer, and of
his terror at her affection for him! Her selfish and intriguing spirit
was free from coarseness, and yet she could have laughed with all her
heart even while engaged in the most shameful deed of her whole life.
She gave the wine back to her daughter, saying good-humoredly:
“I have tasted sweeter, but acid is refreshing in this heat.”
“That is true,” said the wife of Mena; she emptied the cup to the
bottom, and then went on, as if refreshed, “But I will tell you the
rest of my dream. I saw the Neha-tree, which your father gave me, quite
plainly; nay I could have declared that I smelt its perfume, but the
interpreter assured me that we never smell in our dreams. I went up to
the beautiful tree in admiration. Then suddenly a hundred axes appeared
in the air, wielded by unseen hands, and struck the poor tree with such
violence that the branches one by one fell to the ground, and at
last the trunk itself was felled. If you think it grieved me you are
mistaken. On the contrary, I was delighted with the flashing hatchets
and the flying splinters. When at last nothing was left but the roots
in the tub of earth, I perceived that the tree was rising to new life.
Suddenly my arms became strong, my feet active, and I fetched quantities
of water from the tank, poured it over the roots, and when, at last, I
could exert myself no longer, a tender green shoot showed itself on the
wounded root, a bud appeared, a green leaf unfolded itself, a juicy stem
sprouted quickly, it became a firm trunk, sent out branches and twigs,
and these became covered with leaves and flowers, white, red and blue;
then various birds came and settled on the top of the tree, and sang.
Ah! my heart sang louder than the birds at that moment, and I said to
myself that without me the tree would have been dead, and that it owed
its life to me.”
“A beautiful dream,” said Katuti; “that reminds me of your girlhood,
when you would be awake half the night inventing all sorts of tales.
What interpretation did the priest give you?”
“He promised me many things,” said Nefert, “and he gave me the assurance
that the happiness to which I am predestined shall revive in fresh
beauty after many interruptions.”
“And Paaker’s father gave you the Neha-tree?” asked Katuti, leaving the
veranda as she spoke and walking out into the garden.
“My father brought it to Thebes from the far cast,” said Paaker, in
confirmation of the widow’s parting words.
“And that is exactly what makes me so happy,” said Nefert. “For your
father was as kind, and as dear to me as if he had been my own. Do you
remember when we were sailing round the pond, and the boat upset, and
you pulled me senseless out of the water? Never shall I forget the
expression with which the great man looked at me when I woke up in its
arms; such wise true eyes no one ever had but he.”
“He was good, and he loved you very much,” said Paaker, recalling, for
his part, the moment when he had dared to press a kiss on the lips of
the sweet unconscious child.
“And I am so glad,” Nefert went on, “that the day has come at last when
we can talk of him together again, and when the old grudge that lay
so heavy in my heart is all forgotten. How good you are to us, I have
already learned; my heart overflows with gratitude to you, when I
remember my childhood, and I can never forget that I was indebted to you
for all that was bright and happy in it. Only look at the big dog--poor
Descher!--how he rubs against me, and shows that he has not forgotten
me! Whatever comes from your house fills my mind with pleasant
memories.”
“We all love you dearly,” said Paaker looking at her tenderly.
“And how sweet it was in your garden!” cried Nefert. “The nosegay here
that you have brought me shall be placed in water, and preserved a long
time, as greeting from the place in which once I could play carelessly,
and dream so happily.”
With these words she pressed the flowers to her lips; Paaker sprang
forward, seized her hand, and covered it with burning kisses.
Nefert started and drew away her hand, but he put out his arm to clasp
her to him. He had touched her with his trembling hand, when loud voices
were heard in the garden, and Nemu hurried in to announce he arrival of
the princess Bent-Anat.
At the same moment Katuti appeared, and in a few minutes the princess
herself.
Paaker retreated, and quitted the room before Nefert had time to express
her indignation. He staggered to his chariot like a drunken man. He
supposed himself beloved by Mena’s wife, his heart was full of triumph,
he proposed rewarding Hekt with gold, and went to the palace without
delay to crave of Ani a mission to Syria. There it should be brought to
the test--he or Mena.