THEY RETURN TO CAIRO WITHOUT PEKUAH
There was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. They returned to Cairo,
repenting of their curiosity, censuring the negligence of the
government, lamenting their own rashness which had neglected to procure
a guard, imagining many expedients by which the loss of Pekuah might
have been prevented, and resolving to do something for her recovery,
though none could find anything proper to be done.
Nekayah retired to her chamber, where her women attempted to comfort her
by telling her that all had their troubles, and that Lady Pekuah had
enjoyed much happiness in the world for a long time, and might
reasonably expect a change of fortune. They hoped that some good would
befall her wheresoever she was, and that their mistress would find
another friend who might supply her place.
The princess made them no answer, and they continued the form of
condolence, not much grieved in their hearts that the favourite was
lost.
Next day the prince presented to the Bassa a memorial of the wrong which
he had suffered, and a petition for redress. The Bassa threatened to
punish the robbers, but did not attempt to catch them; nor indeed could
any account or description be given by which he might direct the
pursuit.
It soon appeared that nothing would be done by authority. Governors,
being accustomed to hear of more crimes than they can punish, and more
wrongs than they can redress, set themselves at ease by indiscriminate
negligence, and presently forget the request when they lose sight of the
petitioner.
Imlac then endeavoured to gain some intelligence by private agents. He
found many who pretended to an exact knowledge of all the haunts of the
Arabs, and to regular correspondence with their chiefs, and who readily
undertook the recovery of Pekuah. Of these, some were furnished with
money for their journey, and came back no more; some were liberally paid
for accounts which a few days discovered to be false. But the princess
would not suffer any means, however improbable, to be left untried.
While she was doing something, she kept her hope alive. As one expedient
failed, another was suggested; when one messenger returned unsuccessful,
another was dispatched to a different quarter.
Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah nothing had been heard; the
hopes which they had endeavoured to raise in each other grew more
languid, and the princess, when she saw nothing more to be tried, sunk
down inconsolable in hopeless dejection. A thousand times she reproached
herself with the easy compliance by which she permitted her favourite to
stay behind her. "Had not my fondness," said she, "lessened my
authority, Pekuah had not dared to talk of her terrors. She ought to
have feared me more than spectres. A severe look would have overpowered
her; a peremptory command would have compelled obedience. Why did
foolish indulgence prevail upon me? Why did I not speak, and refuse to
hear?"
"Great princess," said Imlac, "do not reproach yourself for your virtue,
or consider that as blameable by which evil has accidentally been
caused. Your tenderness for the timidity of Pekuah was generous and
kind. When we act according to our duty, we commit the event to Him by
whose laws our actions are governed, and who will suffer none to be
finally punished for obedience. When, in prospect of some good, whether
natural or moral, we break the rules prescribed us, we withdraw from the
direction of superior wisdom, and take all consequences upon ourselves.
Man cannot so far know the connexion of causes and events, as that he
may venture to do wrong in order to do right. When we pursue our end by
lawful means, we may always console our miscarriage by the hope of
future recompense. When we consult only our own policy, and attempt to
find a nearer way to good, by overleaping the settled boundaries of
right and wrong, we cannot be happy even by success, because we cannot
escape the consciousness of our fault: but if we miscarry, the
disappointment is irremediably embittered. How comfortless is the sorrow
of him who feels at once the pangs of guilt, and the vexation of
calamity which guilt has brought upon him!
"Consider, princess, what would have been your condition, if the Lady
Pekuah had entreated to accompany you, and being compelled to stay in
the tents, had been carried away; or how would you have borne the
thought, if you had forced her into the Pyramid, and she had died before
you in agonies of terror."
"Had either happened," said Nekayah, "I could not have endured life till
now: I should have been tortured to madness by the remembrance of such
cruelty, or must have pined away in abhorrence of myself."
"This at least," said Imlac, "is the present reward of virtuous conduct,
that no unlucky consequence can oblige us to repent it."