friends, to try for a while a change in the treatment. Sometimes the
failing powers will rally wonderfully under a complete change of
conditions. At any rate we will try it.”
He at once set wide open door and casement. Then going to the water-jug,
he poured out a large cup full of water and brought it to Aleph, who
had kneeled at the bedside and was listening again at the parched and
twitching lips of the unconscious woman. He let a few drops fall upon
them. He gently tried to part the locked teeth, and dropped more. At last
he put the cup to her mouth.
“STOP!” shouted the husband, as he rushed up—his face white with passion
and a demon looking out of his eyes—and with his clenched hand struck the
cup aside, spilling a large part of the water on the woman’s face—“STOP!
I say: this woman is under my protection.”
In a moment, Aleph was erect and confronting him:
“And _such_ a protection!” he scornfully said. “Such a protection as
the thunder cloud gives to the tree it strikes—such a protection as you
have been giving her, ever since you enticed her away from her friends
under the pretense that you were a man and not a brute. To my eyes the
very shadow that you cast, and a very black shadow it is, is that of
a wild beast of the meaner kind. I have not listened at these white
lips in vain. I know something of your story, and expect to know more
shortly—know enough now to say that this woman wishes no such protector.
Death would be a better one. After having made her life miserable you
shall not go on to put her to death—as you seem to wish. Now, do you
understand that we shall proceed to treat this woman as the leech has
said, and if you interfere, or make any disturbance whatever unsuitable
to a sick-room, we will find such ways of quieting you as may be
necessary—for quiet we will have, even if we have to turn you over to the
police as a dangerous character.”
Aleph said this, not loudly, but in so determined and commanding a
manner, and with such rebuking and threatening eyes fastened on the
hateful face before him, that for a moment that face took on a shade of
fear and shame among its other shades—of which it had not a few. But it
was only for a moment. He reinforced himself, as such fellows are apt
to do, by a mighty oath and seemed about to spring on the young man;
but noting again his watchful eye, the cane in his hand, and his whole
attitude so full of lithe and conscious power, he thought better of it,
and fell back on the fighting resources of his tongue.
“This is my wife, and this is my house, at least for the time being;
and I will do with them as I please. Because you are an aristocrat, and
belong to the university, and wear better clothes than I, you think you
can treat me like a dog. But a dog can bite, especially one of my breed;
and if I had as many heads as Cerberus they should all have a bite at
you. So help me all the infernals!”
He flung out of the room. They heard him fiercely unfastening the street
door and then fiercely slamming it behind him as he rushed into the
street.
Aleph at once followed him and secured the door. Returning, he resumed
his work at the bed as if nothing had happened—no more color in his
cheek, no more excitement in his eye, no less steadiness in his hand
as he again held a cup of water to the woman’s lips. Her eyes were now
open and fastened on him. Perhaps the water with which her face had
been flooded had freshened her back to consciousness. Perhaps, too, the
stormy scene that had just passed did something toward summoning back
her retreating vitality. While she drank, cup after cup, as if it were
the nectar of the immortals, she never took her eyes, eyes that seemed
full of wonder, from the calm, compassionate, restful young face that
bent over her. She afterward said that it seemed to her the face of some
benevolent and protecting divinity.
Her skin grew moist. Great beads of sweat came out on her forehead. By
degrees her eyelids drew together and she slept—slept as sleeps the
infant, or as sleeps some still landscape after the drenching shower has
passed.
“What food did she ask for yesterday?” said the leech to the nurse, who
had just come in from another room. “Make ready the same for her against
she awakes.”
“And the lady Rachel,” said Aleph, “will excuse me for suggesting that
she ought now to relieve herself from her burden. The woman will do quite
as well if laid quietly down.”
So Rachel softly disengaged herself, and gently placed the thin, worn,
but now placid cheek on the pillow. She then went to the casement and
stood there a moment reflectively. Then, turning to Aleph, she said:
“I think I will step out into the open air, and perhaps you will be kind
enough to follow me.”
Of course he followed her. Such a vision of loveliness and grace as
glided past him into the court is not apt to summon even a philosopher in
vain. I am not sure but that he would have followed her to Britain had
she asked him, instead of to that rude bench in the farther part of the
court where she seated herself and invited him to do the same.
She said that he must not wonder that she wanted to thank him for
standing between her and insult yesterday at the synagogue—also must
not wonder that she had a woman’s curiosity to know by what means he
had managed to gain admittance to the house, and then to carry his
point so fully with the leech. Would he explain? So he gave a modest
account of his dealings with both the husband and the leech; and then
smilingly demanded reciprocation. The lady must not wonder that he too
had some curiosity to know something of her experience with the same
rough customers. He found that, as the leech had surmised, she could not
get admittance to the house till she had sent back her servants and had
promised not to interfere personally with the treatment. She was very
reluctant to do both things; but she felt that she could not desert her
nurse at such a time. Besides, she was expecting Seti, and encouraged
herself with the hope of his speedy arrival. However, she was almost
afraid to come within doors—the man was so rude and surly. And she did
not fail to tell what a weight was lifted from her mind as soon as Aleph
made his appearance.
But what did he propose? Would not Miriam’s husband come back and break
up all that had been done? And such a desperado! What threats! She
trembled to think what he might do. Must not Aleph be on his guard? How
sorry she was that his unselfish efforts for others should bring him into
such perils! Her lips quivered, and she looked at him with moist, anxious
eyes.
Aleph acknowledged that he thought the fellow capable of the worst. He
_would_ be on his guard. At the same time he did not think that they
need fear his return. If he should come back he must find men in the
house able to control him. So the leech and himself would remain till the
coming of Seti; who perhaps would accompany her home and return with two
strong and resolute men to take their places. So by alternation they must
secure the patient till she could be taken elsewhere—which he thought
would be very soon. What did the lady think of the plan?
She thought favorably of it; and had no doubt but that her father would
do the same. But what trouble and danger Aleph was taking on himself in
all this!
“Do I look as if troubled by it?” said the young man cheerfully. “You
see, I am here partly for educational purposes; and I consider the
opportunities which may daily come to me for dealing wisely and helpfully
with men as so many valuable teachers; and, as to personal danger, I am
quite willing to pay that price for my tuition. But pardon me, lady, when
I say that you who leave your palace for such a place as this, and submit
to bad air, and rude treatment, and risk of health for the sake of a very
humble person who can never repay you, ought not to be surprised at my
conduct. I am comparatively selfish in my conduct. In purity of motive,
I fear that you have greatly the advantage of me. Still I hope that you
will not on that account refuse my interested help in your disinterested
work. By and by, when my education is finished, I hope my motives will be
as unselfish as your own.” He smiled as he added, “But I should be sorry
to have you think that I am, even now, quite without pity for suffering,
and indignation at injustice and wrong.”
After a moment’s pause, during which his face resumed the serene gravity
of expression which was habitual to it, he went on:
“But, lady, besides wanting to complete my education, I have another want
in regard to which you may perhaps help me, and so amply compensate me on
commercial principles for all I have done or may do for your friend. I am
very much interested to get accurate information from Judea about Jesus.
Any news that may reach you about that remarkable person will be to me
like waters to a desert. Your father’s position is such that information
will naturally come to him and to you.”
“I am not sure of that,” returned Rachel. “We get, it is true, a plenty
of rumors and opinions about Jesus; but they come to us, I fear, shaped
and colored by the strong prejudices and seeming interests of the chief
people of our nation, who are mostly hostile to him. These are about
the only ones with whom my father is in communication. But now and then
we meet with a man, like Simeon, who heartily wishes to know the truth,
whatever that may be.”
“Such was the impression he made on me,” said Aleph.
“Speaking of him,” said the maiden, “reminds me of a piece of news which
he brought us this morning, and which my anxiety about Miriam had almost
driven from my mind. He said that he had just heard from a friend whom he
had engaged to make certain inquiries for him that in the birth-registers
of Bethlehem is recorded the birth, some thirty years ago, of one Jesus,
the son of Joseph and Mary, both of whom are said to be descended from
David. He also said that the same friend reported some additional
particulars in regard to the reformer John, who made so great a stir a
short time before Jesus became generally known, and whom many for a time
took to be the Christ.”
“Pray tell me of him,” said the young man, with a kindling face, “for
I have heard absolutely nothing. And yet the Sacred Books say that the
Messiah must have a forerunner like Elijah in character, if not in name.
I have had a difficulty here.”
“Perhaps, then, what I have to tell may help you as it has helped me.
Simeon learns that this man, who for a time filled the eye of the whole
people and was then put to death by that Ahab whom we call Herod, was
exceedingly like Elijah in austerity of life and fearless denunciation
of sin, and that he distinctly forbade the people to count him more than
the forerunner of the Christ, and even introduced Jesus to the people as
being the Christ they were expecting. And this agrees with the reports
that reached Alexandria at the time.”
“Many thanks for this information; it adds another link to the chain of
evidence I am seeking.”
“So it has been with me,” said the maiden, while a shade of deeper
thoughtfulness, if not of sadness, came over the bewildering beauty of
her face as she added, “and I begin to fear that our chain when followed
to the end will conduct us to some new and very unpopular interpretations
of the prophets.”
“I have for some time been prepared for that,” said the young man, calmly
and even cheerfully. “The great thing is to get at the truth: and I whom
you have suffered to read your face as we have talked together need no
further assurance that we think alike in this matter. We are both young;
and youth can accommodate itself more easily than age to new views if
they must come. May Aleph, the Chaldean stranger, venture so largely as
to hope that in his search for the Messiah he may still have the aid of
one whom he knows to be the first lady in the land in position, and whom
her grandfather, who ought to know, and whom I am far from being disposed
to contradict, pronounces the Gem of Alexandria?”
“You do well to smile,” said the maiden, blushing. “My grandfather is
very poor authority on such matters. I happen to know that Alexandrian
gems are of very poor quality and mostly fictitious. But, seriously,
whatever a Jewish maiden can properly do to help in your matter she will
gladly do, both for her own sake, and for his sake who has been in this
city, perhaps three days, and has as many times befriended me and mine.”
Here a loud knock was heard at the street-door. They at once returned
to the sick-room—and Aleph went on to answer the knock, hoping to find
Seti. And Seti it proved to be. Before conducting him to the others,
Aleph briefly and in a low voice explained the situation and received the
full approval of the Egyptian. On entering the sick-room they found the
patient awake with intelligence in her eye, and her arm about the neck
of Rachel, who had kneeled at the bedside. The nurse was standing at a
little distance with a bowl of food.
“I am afraid of Antis,” they heard murmured as they came near.
“You mean your husband?” inquired Rachel.
“Yes,” feebly articulated the woman; “he is a fearful man—a murderer. Do
not leave me with him”—and her arms clung still more closely about the
fair neck as if for protection.
“He shall not trouble you more,” said Seti emphatically, as he showed
himself. “But now take some food,”—and he beckoned the nurse forward.
Supported by Rachel from behind, Miriam supped from a spoon at intervals
with apparent relish, till at length her eyelids again crept slowly
together and she was gently laid back to her unfinished slumbers.
“She will do well, but must not relapse again,” said Seti: and turning to
the leech, “Keep on as you have begun—we will take the responsibility.
I confirm all that this young man has promised. He will, I understand,
remain with you till I can accompany the lady home, and come back with
some men to relieve him and you. Of course, after what the sick woman has
said of her husband, we are justified in excluding him from the house.
Do not allow him to enter under any pretense. If he insists, threaten him
with the police.”
As Aleph put up the bars of the street-door behind Rachel and her escort,
he felt as if he were barring out a sunbeam. There is nothing like a
human face of the diviner type to light up a poor and dark house. Aleph
did not realize how poor and dark that sick house was in itself till
Rachel had left it and he had again placed himself at the bedside. Here
he sat for quite a time lost in thought till, suddenly, he became aware
that Miriam was awake and with wide eyes of placid wonder was gazing at
him. At a sign from him the nurse came forward with more food and drink,
supported her while he gently put to her lips at intervals a little of
both, and then gently laid her down, her drooping eyes still seeking his
face, to renewed slumber. This occurred again before Seti appeared with
three strong and resolute looking men—who being old servants of Alexander
and well known to Miriam in former days, were thought most likely to give
her a sense of security by their presence.
Seti and Aleph returned to Rachotis together.
They had scarcely turned away from the house before Antis came out from
a recess across the street and stole after them—at a distance, but so as
to keep them in sight. And they were not without particular notice from
others. Two such commanding figures as to stature and bearing were not a
common sight in Alexandria; and so the men whom they met would sometimes
turn and gaze after them. One of these did more than stop and gaze. He
followed—followed on one side of the street as Antis was following on the
other.
I wonder what he meant! Was he a friend or an enemy? Or was it merely
idleness and curiosity that prompted the following?
These latter make a motor of considerable power; sometimes even of fully
as much power as any of our celebrated modern motors, or those mysterious
ones used in the construction of the pyramids. And it certainly was
in daily use in Egypt among all classes at the time of our narrative,
and long before. Before the Ptolemies, before the Pharaohs, before the
Dispersion, before Tubal Cain—in fact there is some reason to think that
this motor was invented by the first man (some say by the first woman;
but this is a base slander), and was from him handed down to all ages and
countries. How else can we account for its omnipresence!
So it is by no means incredible that the following of Aleph just spoken
of was not due to hostility. I hope it was not. I hope it did not mean
mischief. Still I confess to some fears. Somehow I begin to feel an
interest in that young man; and if any harm should come to him it would
trouble me not a little.
VI.
THE CUSTOM HOUSE.
Οὺκ οῖα βούλεται τις, αλλ’ οῖα δύναται.
PLATO, _Nipp. Mag._ 26.
_Not what one wishes, but what he can._
1. News by the way.
2. A commercial catechism.
3. Python wide awake.
4. No time to be lost.
VI.
THE CUSTOM HOUSE.
Aleph found Cimon already at the khan; and, after giving an account of
his own experiences, received the following from his friend.
Cimon went first to the khan they had just left for an article that had
been forgotten, and to learn what he might of the ways of the neighboring
custom house.
He found that he was yet considerably too early for the business hours of
the chief official; and so lingered, making inquiries of the inn-keeper
about the chief traders of the city, especially in the line of eastern
goods. Who are they? Where are their places of business? How long have
they been established? What reputations do they bear? These questions
were freely answered—with some vagueness and reserve, however, as to
the last of them; as was to be expected from a man who speaks about his
neighbors to a stranger. Cimon found that Malus was by far the largest
and most successful dealer in the city.
“How did that happen?”
“Well, you see, he has the most capital: so he has the best goods,
the cheapest, and the greatest variety; and then his positions as
harbor-master and farmer-general of all imports from the south give
him special advantages for turning trade in his own direction. As
harbor-master he is the first one to meet the owners of goods on their
arrival, and can hasten or delay the passing through the custom house:
as farmer of the duties he has less duty to pay than his rivals, even
if he makes none of the illegal exactions with which some charge him.
However this may be, it is certain that he has very great opportunities
of befriending those who deal with him, and _can_ make it for their
interest to patronize him rather than others. People lay much stress on
this. So he has crushed out many small dealers. Still, not a few manage
to maintain themselves against him, though they make small profits where
he makes large ones. There are yet many people who for various reasons
prefer to go elsewhere than to Nos. 110, 111, 112 Emporium Street. We are
among them”—and the man shrugged his shoulders.
Cimon took out his tablets and made some entries.
While he was doing this, who should come in but the Jew who had so
curiously followed him from the synagogue! The man was surprised, and
apparently delighted, to see Cimon. It appeared that he was a brother of
the absent landlord, and had come to bring news of him to his family. He
had left him in Judea a few days before, and expected that he would soon
be able to return. He then turned to Cimon and inquired about his young
companion of yesterday.
“That young man haunts me,” he said. “His face meets me everywhere; if I
read, his features come between me and the papyrus; if some one enters
my house I look up to see if it is not he; if I am walking in the street
I forget my errand and look for him instead. For example, while on my
way here I forgot what I was coming for, and found myself opposite the
Diapleuston waiting for him to appear, and, had he appeared, no doubt I
should have acted as ridiculously as I did yesterday.”
Cimon explained that they had seen occasion to remove to another part of
the city; but were still proposing to seek him out and hear about the
eastern pilgrims of whom he had spoken. Perhaps he would not object to
give some particulars now—reserving to some future time, when his young
friend could be with him, a fuller account. Could they not pass into the
court and seat themselves where they would not be exposed to interruption?
The Jew readily consented: and this was the substance of his narrative.
When he was scarcely more than a boy there came to the khan on the east
of the city, then kept by his father, a large caravan of eastern people,
on their way home from Judea. It was led by three men—all remarkable
for dignity of manner, richness of apparel, and other signs of great
distinction, if not of princely rank. Two of them were old men; but old
after the manner of Moses. Their eyes were as bright, their forms as
erect, their steps as firm and elastic as one ever sees in the young. But
the third was comparatively young: and a finer specimen of humanity in
all respects the khan had never seen, though it had seen, first and last,
a wide variety of people from all nations.
Ah, that young man knew how to walk—how to ride too! When he came and
went, whether on foot or on his Arabian, the servants would run to every
convenient outlook to wonder at the easy grace and majesty of his
movements.
On the arrival of the caravan the khan happened to be quite without
guests. The pilgrims at once took all the vacant rooms, and remained
several days in the city—examining it fully in every direction; its
temples, palaces, harbors, markets, warehouses, manufactures, libraries,
schools. They evidently were very devout persons; not as the idolaters
are, but after the Hebrew manner. Every morning and evening they gathered
all their servants, and read from copies of the Law and Prophets,
and prayed most reverently to the Invisible; and on the Sabbath they
went separately to the synagogues; and when they left the city they
carried away with them many copies of the Greek Scriptures—also, it was
said, a Greek young man, well taught in all the western learning and
accomplishments, but who had lost his parents and other near relatives,
and so had few ties to detain him here. This was what was _said_: the Jew
could not vouch for it, as he had never seen the young Greek.
But these were not the most important facts about the pilgrims. Some in
the caravan spoke the Greek language and the people of the inn used to
listen with wonder to the story that gradually came to them.
For generations it had been widely understood in parts of the East that a
great king would some day appear in Judea in whom all the families of the
earth would be blessed. But lately it was revealed to each of the three
chiefs that the birth of this king was about to take place, and that when
it had taken place the fact would be signified to them by the appearance
of a new star-like body in the western sky, and that on seeing it they
should journey westward to carry the homage and presents of the East
to the new-born monarch. So they conferred together, made ready their
caravans, and watched the heavens nightly for the promised sign.
At last it came. The day had faded away into the night, when lo, a
glorious beam shot to the watchers, and they saw a great star hanging low
in the west—a star wholly unlike the evening star, or any other star ever
seen in that quarter of the sky. The signal was promptly and joyfully
obeyed. Meeting at a place before agreed upon, the chiefs joined caravans
and proceeded toward Judea—the star appearing and going before them
whenever their journey needed special guidance. So at last they came to
Bethlehem, where the meteor sank low and blazed over the house where a
young child was. Then they knew that they had found the King; though it
was in no palace, but in a very humble home bare of all but the barest
necessaries.
Was it a beautiful child? Even as Moses, exceeding fair. Was he afraid of
the bearded men as they kneeled before him and presented their gold and
frankincense and myrrh? Not at all. There were the dawnings of a kingly
repose and welcome in his eyes as he fearlessly stretched out his little
hand and laid it on the thin white hairs and on the dense brown locks
that were successively bowed low before him.