IX

Poeri, who was armed with a strong palm stick, walked towards the river

along a causeway built over a field of submerged papyrus which, leafy at

their base, sent up on either hand their straight stalks six and eight

cubits high, ending in a tuft of fibre and looking like the lances of an

army in battle array.

Holding in her breath and walking on tiptoe, Tahoser followed him on the

narrow road. There was no moon that night, and the thick papyrus would

in any case have been sufficient to conceal the young girl, who remained

somewhat behind.

An open space had to be crossed. The sham Hora let Poeri go on first,

bent down, made herself as small as she could, and crawled along the

ground. Next they entered a mimosa wood, and, concealed by the clumps of

trees, Tahoser was able to proceed without having to take as many

precautions. She was so close to Poeri, whom she feared to lose sight of

in the darkness, that very often the branches that he pushed aside

slapped her in the face; but she paid no attention to this. A feeling

of burning jealousy drove her to seek the solution of the mystery, which

she did not interpret as did the servants in the house. Not for one

moment had she believed that the young Hebrew went out thus every night

to perform any infamous and profane rite; she believed that a woman was

at the bottom of these nocturnal excursions, and she wanted to know who

her rival was. The cold kindness of Poeri had proved to her that his

heart was already won; otherwise, how could he have remained insensible

to charms famous throughout Thebes and the whole of Egypt? Would he have

pretended not to understand a love that would have filled with pride

oeris, priests, temple scribes, and even princes of the royal blood?

On reaching the river shore, Poeri descended a few steps cut out of the

slope of the bank, and bent down as if he were casting off a rope.

Tahoser, lying flat on the summit of the bank, above which the top of

her head alone showed, saw to her great despair that the mysterious

stroller was casting off a light papyrus bark, narrow and long like a

fish, and that he was making ready to cross the river. The next moment

he sprang into the boat, shoved off with his foot, and sculled into the

open with a single oar placed at the stern of the skiff.

The poor girl was plunged in grief and despair: she was going to lose

track of the secret which it was so important that she should learn.

What was she to do? Retrace her steps, her heart a prey to suspicion and

uncertainty, the worst of evils? She summoned all her courage and soon

made up her mind. It was useless to think of looking for another boat.

She let herself down the bank, drew off her dress in a twinkling, and

fastened it in a roll upon her head; then she boldly plunged into the

river, taking care not to splash. As supple as a water-snake, she

stretched out her lovely arms over the dark waves in which quivered the

reflection of the stars, and began to follow the boat at a distance. She

swam superbly, for every day she practised with her women in the vast

piscina in her palace, and no one cleaved the waters more skilfully than

Tahoser.

The current, less swift at this point, did not greatly hinder her, but

in the centre of the stream she had to strike out in the boiling water

and to swim faster in order to avoid being carried to leeward. Her

breath came shorter and quicker, and yet she held it in lest the young

Hebrew should hear her. Sometimes a higher wave lapped with its foam her

half-open lips, wetted her hair, and even reached her dress rolled up in

a bundle. Happily for her,--for her strength was beginning to give

way,--she soon found herself in stiller water. A bundle of reeds coming

down the river touched her as it passed, and filled her with quick

terror. The dark, green mass looked in the darkness like the back of a

crocodile; Tahoser thought she had felt the rough skin of the monster;

but she recovered from her terror and said, as she swam on, "What matter

if the crocodiles eat me up, if Poeri loves me not?"

There was real danger, especially at night. During the day the constant

crossing of boats and the work going on along the quays drove away the

crocodiles, which went to shores less frequented by man to wallow in the

mud and to sun themselves; but at night they became bold again.

Tahoser did not think of them; love is no calculator, and even if she

had thought of this form of peril, she would have braved it, timid

though she was, and frightened by an obstinate butterfly that mistaking

her for a flower kept fluttering around her.

Suddenly the boat stopped, although the bank was still some distance

away. Poeri, ceasing to scull, seemed to cast an uneasy glance around

him. He had perceived the whitish spot made on the water by Tahoser's

rolled up dress. Thinking she was discovered, the intrepid swimmer

bravely dived, resolved not to come to the surface, even were she to

drown, until Poeri's suspicions had been dispelled.

"I could have sworn somebody was swimming behind me," said Poeri, as he

went on sculling again; "but who would venture into the Nile at such a

time as this? I must have been crazy. I mistook for a human head covered

with linen a tuft of white reeds, or perhaps a mere flake of foam, for I

can see nothing now."

When Tahoser, whose temples were beginning to beat violently, and who

began to see red flashes in the dark waters of the river, rose hastily

to fill her lungs with a long breath of air, the papyrus boat had

resumed its confident way, and Poeri was handling the scull with the

imperturbable phlegm of the allegorical personages who row the barge of

Maut on the _bassi-relievi_ and the paintings of the temples. The bank

was only a few strokes off; the vast shadow of the pylons and the huge

walls of the Northern Palace--the dark pile of which was faintly seen

surmounted by the pyramidions of six obelisks through the violet blue of

the night--spread immense and formidable over the river, and sheltered

Tahoser, who could swim without fear of being noticed.

Poeri landed a little below the palace and fastened his boat to a post

so as to find it on his return. Then he took his palm stick and ascended

the slope of the quay with a swift step.

Poor Tahoser, almost worn out, clung with her stiffened hands to the

first step of the stair, and with difficulty drew from the stream her

dripping limbs, which the contact of the air made heavier as she

suddenly felt the fatigue. But the worst of her task was over. She

climbed the steps, one hand pressed to her quick-beating heart, the

other placed on her head to steady her rolled up and soaked dress. After

having noticed the direction in which Poeri was walking, she sat down on

top of the bank, untied her dress, and put it on. The contact of the wet

stuff made her shudder slightly, yet the night air was soft and the

southern breeze blew warm; but she was stiff and feverish, and her

little teeth were chattering. She summoned up her energy, and gliding

close by the sloping walls of the giant buildings, she managed not to

lose sight of the young Hebrew, who turned around the corner of the

mighty brick walls of the palace and entered the streets of Thebes.

After walking for some fifteen minutes, the palaces, the temples, the

splendid dwellings vanished, and were replaced by humbler houses;

granite, sandstone, and limestone were replaced by unbaked bricks and by

clay worked with straw. Architectural design disappeared; low huts

showed around like blisters or warts upon lonely places, upon waste

fields, and were changed by the darkness into monstrous shapes. Pieces

of wood and moulded bricks arranged in heaps obstructed the way. Out of

the silence rose strange, troubling sounds: an owl whirled through the

air, lean dogs, raising their long, pointed noses, followed with

plaintive bay the erratic flight of a bat; scorpions and frightened

reptiles scurrying by, made the dry grass rattle.

"Could Harphre have spoken the truth?" thought Tahoser, impressed by the

sinister aspect of the place. "Is it possible that Poeri comes here to

sacrifice a child to those barbarous gods who love blood and suffering?

Never was any place better fitted for cruel rites."

Meanwhile, profiting by the shadow of corners, the ends of walls, the

clumps of vegetation, and the unevenness of the ground, she kept at the

same distance from Poeri.

"Even if I were to be present as an invisible witness at some scene as

frightful as a nightmare, to hear the cries of the victim, to see the

priest, his hands red with blood, draw from the little body the smoking

heart, I should go on to the end," said Tahoser to herself, as she saw

the young Hebrew enter a hut built of clay, through the crevices of

which shone a few rays of yellow light.

When Poeri was fairly within, the daughter of Petamounoph approached,

though not a pebble cracked under her light step, nor a dog marked her

presence by a bark. She went around the hut, pressing her hand to her

heart and holding in her breath, and discovered, by seeing it shine

against the dark ground of the clay wall, a crack wide enough to allow

her glance to penetrate the interior. A small lamp lighted the room,

which was less bare than might have been supposed from the outward

appearance of the cabin. The smooth walls were as polished as stucco.

On wooden pedestals, painted in various colours, were placed vases of

gold and silver; jewels sparkled in half-open coffers; dishes of

brilliant metal shone on the wall; and a nosegay of rare flowers bloomed

in an enamelled jar in the centre of a small table. But it was not these

details which interested Tahoser, although the contrast of this

concealed luxury with the external poverty of the dwelling had at first

somewhat surprised her. Her attention was irresistibly attracted by

another object.

On a low platform covered with matting was a marvellously beautiful

woman of an unknown race. She was fairer than any of the maids of Egypt,

as white as milk, as white as a lily, as white as the ewes which have

just been washed. Her eyebrows were curved like ebony bows, and their

points met at the root of the thin, aquiline nose, the nostrils of which

were as rosy as the interior of a shell; her eyes were like doves' eyes,

bright and languorous; her lips were like two bands of purple, and as

they parted showed rows of pearls; her hair hung on either side of her

rosy cheeks in black, lustrous locks like two bunches of ripe grapes.

Earrings shimmered in her ears, and necklaces of golden plates inlaid

with silver sparkled around a neck that was round and polished like an

alabaster column. Her dress was peculiar. It consisted of a full tunic

embroidered with stripes and symmetrical designs of various colours,

falling from her shoulders half-way down her legs and leaving her arms

free and bare.

The young Hebrew sat down by her on the matting, and spoke to her words

which Tahoser could not understand, but the meaning of which she

unfortunately guessed too well; for Poeri and Ra'hel spoke in the

language of their country, so sweet to the exile and captive. Yet hope

dies hard in the loving breast.

"Perhaps it is his sister," said Tahoser, "and he goes to see her in

secret, being unwilling that it should be known that he belongs to that

enslaved race."

Then she put her eye to the crevice and listened with painful and

intense attention to the harmonious and rhythmic language, every

syllable of which held a secret which she would have given her life to

learn, and which sounded in her ears vague, swift, and unmeaning like

the wind in the leaves and the water on the bank.

"She is very beautiful for a sister," she murmured, as she cast a

jealous glance upon the strange and charming face with its red lips and

its pale complexion that was set off by ornaments of exotic shapes, and

the beauty of which had something fatally mysterious about it.

"Oh, Ra'hel, my beloved Ra'hel!" repeated Poeri often.

Tahoser remembered having heard him whisper that name while she was

fanning him in his sleep.

"He thought of her even in his dreams. No doubt Ra'hel is her name." And

the poor child felt in her breast a sharp pang as if all the uraeus

snakes of the entablatures, all the royal asps of the Pharaonic crowns,

had struck their venomous fangs in her heart.

Ra'hel bowed her head on Poeri's shoulder like a flower overladen with

sunshine and love; the lips of the young man touched the hair of the

lovely Jewess, who fell back slowly, yielding her brow and half-closed

eyes to his earnest and timid caress. Their hands, which had sought each

other, were now clasped and feverishly pressed together.

"Oh, why did I not surprise him in some impious and mysterious ceremony,

slaying with his own hands a human victim, drinking its blood in a cup

of black ware, rubbing his face with it? It seems to me that I should

have suffered less than at the sight of that lovely woman whom he

embraces so timidly," murmured Tahoser in a faint voice as she sank on

the ground in a corner by the hut.

Twice she strove to rise, but she fell back on her knees. Darkness came

over her, her limbs gave way, and she fell in a swoon.

Meanwhile Poeri issued from the hut, giving a last kiss to Ra'hel.

X

The Pharaoh, raging and anxious on hearing of the disappearance of

Tahoser, had given way to that desire for change which possesses a heart

tormented by an unsatisfied passion. To the deep grief of Amense,

Hont-Reche, and Twea, his favourites, who had endeavoured to retain him

in the Summer Palace by all the resources of feminine coquetry, he now

inhabited the Northern Palace on the other side of the Nile. His fierce

preoccupation was irritated by the presence and the chatter of his

women; they displeased him because they were not Tahoser. He now thought

ugly those beauties who had seemed to him formerly so fair; their young,

slender, graceful bodies, their voluptuous attitudes, their long eyes

brightened by antimony and flashing with desire, their purple lips,

white teeth, and languishing smiles,--everything in them, even the

perfume of their cool skin, as delicate as a bouquet of flowers or a box

of scent, had become odious to him. He seemed to be angry with them for

having loved them, and to be unable to understand how he could have

been smitten by such vulgar charms. When Twea touched his breast with

the slender, pink finger of her little hand, shaking with emotion, as if

to recall the remembrance of former familiarities; when Hont-Reche

placed before him the draught-board supported by two lions back to back,

in order to play a game; when Amense presented him with a lotus-flower

with respectful, supplicating grace, he could scarcely refrain from

striking them with his sceptre, and his royal eyes flashed with such

disdain that the poor women who had ventured on such boldness, withdrew

abashed, their eyes wet with tears, and leaned silently against the

painted wall, trying by their motionlessness to appear to be part of the

paintings on the frescoes.

To avoid these scenes of tears and violence, he had withdrawn to the

palace of Thebes, alone, taciturn, and sombre; and there, instead of

remaining seated on his throne in the solemn attitude of the gods and of

kings, who, being almighty, neither move nor make a gesture, he walked

feverishly up and down through the vast halls. Strange was it to see

that tall Pharaoh with imposing mien, as formidable as the granite

colossi, his like, making the stone floors resound under his curved

sandals. When he passed, the terrified guards seemed to be petrified and

to turn to stone. They remained breathless, and not even the double

ostrich-feather in their headgear dared tremble. When he had passed,

they scarce ventured to whisper, "What is the matter to-day with the

Pharaoh?"

Had he returned from his expedition a beaten man, he could not have been

more morose and sombre. If, instead of having won ten victories, slain

twenty thousand enemies, brought back two thousand virgins chosen from

among the fairest, a hundred loads of gold-dust, a thousand loads of

ebony and elephants' tusks, without counting the rare products and the

strange animals,--if, instead of all this, Pharaoh had seen his army cut

to pieces, his war chariots overthrown and broken, if he had escaped

alone from the rout under a shower of arrows, dusty, blood-covered,

taking the reins from the hands of his driver dead by his side,--he

certainly could not have appeared more gloomy and more desperate. After

all, the land of Egypt produces soldiers in abundance; innumerable

horses neigh and paw the ground in the palace stables; and workmen could

soon bend wood, melt copper, sharpen brass. The fortune of war is

changeable, but a disaster may be atoned for. To have, however, wished

for a thing which did not at once come to him, to have met with an

obstacle between his will and the carrying out of that will, to have

hurled like a javelin a desire which had not struck its mark,--that was

what amazed the Pharaoh who dwelt in the higher plane of almightiness.

For one moment it occurred to him that he was only a man.

So he wandered through the vast courts, down the avenues of giant

pillars, passed under the mighty pylons, between the lofty monolithic

obelisks and the colossi which gazed upon him with their great,

frightened eyes. He traversed the hypostyle hall and the maze of the

granitic forest with its one hundred and sixty-two pillars tall and

strong as towers. The figures of gods, of kings, and of symbolic beings

painted on the walls seemed to fix upon him their great eyes, drawn in

black upon their profile masks, the uraeus snakes to twist and swell

their hoods, the bird-faced divinities to stretch out their necks, the

globes to spread over the cornices their fluttering wings of stone. A

strange, fantastic life animated these curious figures, and peopled with

living swarms the solitudes of the vast hall, which was as large as an

ordinary palace. The divinities, the ancestors, the chimerical

monsters, eternally motionless, were amazed to see the Pharaoh,

ordinarily as calm as themselves, striding up and down as though he were

a man of flesh, and not of porphyry and basalt.

Weary of roaming about that mysterious forest of pillars that upbore a

granite heaven, like a lion which seeks the track of its prey and scents

with its wrinkled nose the moving sand of the desert, the Pharaoh

ascended one of the terraces of the palace, stretched himself on a low

couch, and sent for Timopht.

Timopht appeared at once, and advanced from the top of the stairs to the

Pharaoh, prostrating himself at every step. He dreaded the wrath of the

master whose favour he had, for a moment, hoped he had gained. Would the

skill he had shown in discovering the home of Tahoser be a sufficient

excuse for the crime of losing track of the lovely maid?

Raising one knee and leaving the other bent, Timopht stretched out his

arms with a supplicating gesture.

"O King, do not doom me to death or to be beaten beyond measure. The

beauteous Tahoser, the daughter of Petamounoph, on whom your desire

deigned to descend as the hawk swoops down upon the dove, will doubtless

be found; and when, returned to her home, she sees your magnificent

gifts, her heart will be touched, and she will come of herself to take,

among the women that dwell in your harem, the place which you will

assign to her."

"Did you question her servants and her slaves?" said the King. "The

stick loosens the most rebellious tongue, and suffering makes men and

women say what they would otherwise hide."

"Nofre and Souhem, her favourite maid and her oldest servant, told me

that they had noticed the bolts of the garden gate drawn back, that

probably their mistress had gone out that way. The gate opens on the

river, and the water does not preserve the track of boats."

"What did the boatmen of the Nile say?"

"They had seen nothing. One man alone said that a poorly dressed woman

crossed the stream with the first light of day; but it could not be the

beautiful and rich Tahoser, whose face you have yourself noticed, and

who walks like a queen in her superb garments."

Timopht's logic did not appear to convince the Pharaoh. He leaned his

chin on his hand and reflected for a few moments. Poor Timopht waited

in silence, fearing an explosion of fury. The King's lips moved as if he

were speaking to himself.

"That mean dress was a disguise. Yes, it must have been. Thus disguised,

she crossed to the other side of the river. Timopht is a fool, who

cannot see anything. I have a great mind to have him thrown to the

crocodiles or beaten to death. But what could be her reason? A maid of

high birth, the daughter of a high-priest, to escape thus from her

palace, alone and without informing any one of her intention! It may be

there is some love affair at the bottom of this mystery."

As this thought occurred to him, the Pharaoh's face flushed red as if

under the reflection of a fire; the blood had rushed from his heart to

his face. The redness was followed by dreadful pallor; his eyebrows

writhed like the uraeus in his diadem, his mouth was contracted, he

grated his teeth, and his face became so terrible that the terrified

Timopht fell on his face upon the pavement as falls a dead man.

But the Pharaoh resumed his coolness, his face regained its majestic,

weary, placid look, and seeing that Timopht did not rise, he kicked him

disdainfully.

When Timopht, who already saw himself stretched on the funeral bed

supported by jackal's feet in the Memnonia quarter, his side open, his

stomach emptied, and himself ready to be plunged into a bath of

pickle,--when Timopht raised himself, he dared not look up to the King,

but remained crouched on his heels, a prey to the bitterest anguish.

"Come, Timopht!" said His Majesty, "rise up, run, and despatch

emissaries on all sides; have temples, palaces, houses, villas, gardens,

yea, the meanest of huts searched, and find Tahoser. Send chariots along

every road; have the Nile traversed in every direction by boats; go

yourself and ask those whom you meet if they have not seen such and such

a woman. Violate the tombs, if she has taken refuge in the abodes of

death, far within some passage or hypogeum. Seek her out as Isis sought

her husband Osiris torn away by Typhon, and, dead or alive, bring her

back,--or by the uraeus of my pschent, by the lotus of my sceptre, you

shall perish in hideous tortures."

Timopht went off with the speed of a deer to carry out the orders of the

Pharaoh, who, somewhat calmer, took one of those poses of tranquil

grandeur which the sculptors love to give to the colossi set up at the

gates of the temples and palaces, and calm as beseems those whose

sandals, covered with drawings of captives with bound elbows, rest upon

the heads of nations, he waited.

A roar as of thunder sounded around the palace, and had the sky not been

of unchangeable, lapis-lazuli blue it might have been thought that a

storm had burst unexpectedly. The sound was caused by the swiftly

revolving wheels of the chariots galloping off in every direction, and

shaking the very ground. Soon the Pharaoh perceived from the top of the

terrace the boats cleaving the stream under the impulse of the rowers,

and his messengers scattering on the other bank through the country. The

Libyan chain, with its rosy light, and its sapphire blue shadows,

bounded the horizon and formed a background to the giant buildings of

Rameses, Amenhotep, and Amen Phtases; the pylons with their sloping

angles, the walls with their spreading cornices, the colossi with their

hands resting on their knees, stood out, gilded by the sunbeams, their

size undiminished by distance.

But the Pharaoh looked not at these proud edifices. Amid the clumps of

palms and the cultivated fields, houses and painted kiosks rose here and

there, standing out against the brilliant colours of the vegetation.

Under one of these roofs, on one of these terraces, no doubt, Tahoser

was hiding; and by some spell he wished he could raise them or make them

transparent.

Hours followed on hours. The sun had sunk behind the mountains, casting

its last rays on Thebes, and the messengers had not returned. The

Pharaoh preserved his motionless attitude. Night fell on the city, cool,

calm, blue; the stars came out and twinkled in the deep azure. On the

corner of the terrace the Pharaoh, silent, impassible, stood out dark

like a basalt statue fixed upon the entablature. Several times the birds

of night swept around his head ere settling on it, but terrified by his

deep, slow breathing, they fled with startled wings.

From the height where he sat, the King overlooked the city lying at his

feet. Out of the mass of bluish shadow uprose the obelisks with their

sharp pyramidions; the pylons, giant doors traversed by rays; high

cornices; the colossi rising shoulder-high above the sea of buildings;

the propylaea; the pillars, with capitals swelled out like huge granite

flowers; the corners of temples and of palaces, brought out by a silvery

touch of light. The sacred pools spread out shimmering like polished

metal; the human-headed and the ram-headed sphinxes aligned along the

avenues, stretched out their hind-quarters; and the flat roofs were

multiplied infinitely, white under the moonlight, in masses cut here and

there into great slices by the squares and the streets. Red points

studded the darkness as if the stars had let sparks fall upon the earth.

These were lamps still burning in the sleeping city. Still farther,

between the less crowded buildings, faintly seen shafts of palm trees

waved their fans of leaves; and beyond, the contours and the shapes were

merged in a vaporous immensity, for even the eagle's glance could not

have reached the limits of Thebes; and on the other side old Hopi was

flowing majestically towards the sea.

Soaring in sight and thought over that vast city of which he was the

absolute master, the Pharaoh reflected sadly on the limits set to human

power, and his desire, like a raging vulture, gnawed at his heart. He

said to himself: "All these houses contain beings who at the sight of me

bow their faces into the dust, to whom my will is the will of the gods.

When I pass upon my golden car or in my litter borne by the oeris,

virgins feel their bosoms swell as their long, timid glance follows me;

the priests burn incense to me in their censers, the people wave palms

and scatter flowers; the whistling of one of my arrows makes the nations

tremble; and the walls of pylons huge as precipitous mountains are

scarce sufficient to record my victories; the quarries can scarce

furnish granite enough for my colossal statues. Yet once, in my superb

satiety, I form a wish, and that wish I cannot fulfil. Timopht does not

reappear. No doubt he has failed. Oh, Tahoser, Tahoser! How great is the

happiness you will have to bestow on me to make up for this long

waiting!"

Meanwhile the messengers, Timopht at their head, were visiting the

houses, examining the roads, inquiring after the priest's daughter,

describing her to the travellers they met; but no one could answer them.

The first messenger appeared on the terrace and announced to the Pharaoh

that Tahoser could not be found. The Pharaoh stretched out his sceptre,

and the messenger fell dead, in spite of the proverbial hardness of the

Egyptian skull. A second came up; he stumbled against the body of his

comrade stretched on the slabs; he trembled, for he saw that the Pharaoh

was angry.

"What of Tahoser?" said the Pharaoh, without changing his attitude.

"O Majesty! all trace of her is lost," replied the poor wretch, kneeling

in the darkness before the black shadow, which was more like a statue of

Osiris than a living king.

The granite arm was outstretched from the motionless torso, and the

metal sceptre fell like a thunderbolt. The second messenger rolled on

the ground by the side of the first.

The third shared the same fate.

Timopht, in the course of his search, reached the house of Poeri, who,

having returned from his nocturnal excursion, had been amazed that

morning at not seeing the sham Hora. Harphre and the servants who, the

night before, had supped with her, did not know what had become of her;

her room had been found empty; she had been sought for in vain through

the gardens, the cellars, the granaries, and the washing-places.

Poeri replied, when questioned by Timopht, that it was true that a young

girl had presented herself at his gate in the supplicating posture of

misfortune, imploring hospitality on her knees; that he had received her

kindly; had offered her food and shelter; but that she had left in a

mysterious fashion for a reason which he could not fathom. In what

direction had she gone? That he did not know. No doubt, having rested,

she had continued on her way to some unknown place. She was beautiful,

sad, wore a garment of common stuff, and appeared to be poor. Did the

name of Hora which she had given stand for that of Tahoser? It was for

Timopht to answer that question.

Provided with this information, Timopht returned to the palace, and

keeping well out of the reach of the Pharaoh's sceptre, he repeated what

he had learned.

"What did she go to Poeri's for?" said the Pharaoh to himself. "If Hora

is really Tahoser, she loves Poeri. And yet, no! for she would not have

fled thus, after having been received under his roof. I shall find her

again, even if I have to upset the whole of Egypt from the Cataracts to

the Delta."