During this prayer he had raised his eyes heavenward and saw on the

summit of Baal-zephon the red blaze of a fire. It had been lighted by

the Phoenicians to make the Baal of the north-wind favorable to the men

of kindred race and hostile to the hated Egyptians. This was a kindly

deed; but he put his trust in another God and, as his eye glanced over

the vault of heaven and noted the grey and black storm-clouds scurrying,

gathering, parting, and then rushing in new directions, he perceived

between two dispersing masses of clouds the silvery light of the full

moon, which had now attained her zenith.

Fresh anxiety assailed him; for he remembered the prediction of men

skilled in the changes of winds and waves. If the sea should now return

to its ancient bed, his people would be lost; for there was no escape,

even toward the north, where deep pools of water were standing amid the

mire and cliffs. Should the waves flow back within the next hour, the

seed of Abraham would be effaced from the earth, as writing inscribed on

wax disappears from the tablet under the pressure of a warm hand.

Yet was not this people thus marked for destruction, the nation which the

Lord had chosen for His own? Could He deliver it into the hand of those

who were also His own foes?

No, no, a thousand times no!

And the moon, which was to cause this destruction, had but a short time

before been the ally of his flight and favored him. Only let him keep up

his hope and faith and not lose confidence.

Nothing, nothing was lost as yet.

Come what might, the whole nation need not perish, and his own tribe,

which marched at the head of the procession, certainly would not; for

many must have reached the opposite shore, nay, perhaps more than he

supposed; for the bay was not wide, and even the lepers, the last of the

train, had already advanced some distance across the wet sand.

Ephraim now remained alone behind them all to listen to the approach of

the hostile chariots. He laid his ear to the ground on the shore of the

bay, and he could trust to the sharpness of his hearing; how often, in

this attitude, he had caught the distant tramp of stray cattle or, while

hunting, the approach of a herd of antelopes or gazelles.

As the last, he was in the greatest danger; but what cared he for that?

How gladly he would have sacrificed his young life to save the others.

Since he had held in his hand the leader's staff, it seemed to him as if

he had assumed the duty of watching over his people, so he listened and

listened till he could hear a slight trembling of the ground and finally

a low rumble. That was the foe, that must be Pharaoh's chariots, and how

swiftly the proud steeds whirled them forward.

Springing up as if a lash had struck him, he dashed on to urge the others

to hasten.

How oppressively sultry the air had grown, spite of the raging storm

which extinguished so many torches! The moon was concealed by clouds,

but the flickering fire on the summit of the lofty height of Baal-zephon

blazed brighter and brighter. The sparks that rose from the midst of the

flames glittered as they swept westward; for the wind now came more from

the east.

Scarcely had he noticed this, when he hurried back to the boys bearing

pans of pitch who closed the procession, to command them in the utmost

haste to fill the copper vessels afresh and see that the smoke rose in

dense, heavy clouds; for, he said to himself, the storm will drive the

smoke into the faces of the stallions who draw the chariots and frighten

or stop them.

No means seemed to him too insignificant, every moment that could be

gained was precious; and as soon as he had convinced himself that the

smoke-clouds were pouring densely from the vessels and making it

difficult to breathe the air of the path over which the people had

passed, he hurried forward, shouting to the elders whom he overtook that

Pharaoh's chariots were close at hand and the march must be hastened.

At once pedestrians, bearers, drivers, and shepherds exerted all their

strength to advance faster; and though the wind, which blew more and more

from the east, impeded their progress, all struggled stoutly against it,

and dread of their approaching pursuers doubled their strength.

The youth seemed to the heads of the tribes, who nodded approval wherever

he appeared, like a shepherd dog guarding and urging the flock; and when

he had slipped through the moving bands and battled his way forward

against the storm, the east wind bore to his ears as if in reward a

strange shout; for the nearer he came to its source, the louder it rang,

and the more surely he perceived that it was a cry of joy and exultation,

the first that had burst from a Hebrew's breast for many a long day.

It refreshed Ephraim like a cool drink after long thirsting, and he could

not refrain from shouting aloud and crying joyously to the others:

"Saved, saved!" Two tribes had already reached the eastern shore of the

bay and were raising the glad shouts which, with the fires blazing in

huge pans on the shore, kindled the courage of the approaching fugitives

and braced their failing strength. Ephraim saw by their light the

majestic figure of Moses on a hill by the sea, extending his staff over

the waters, and the spectacle impressed him, like all the other

fugitives, from the highest to the lowest, more deeply than aught else

and strongly increased the courage of his heart. This man was indeed the

trusted servant of the Most High, and so long as he held his staff

uplifted, the waves seemed spell-bound, and through him God forbade their

return.

He, Ephraim, need no longer appeal to the Omnipotent One—that was the

appointed task of this great and exalted personage; but he must continue

to fulfil his little duty of watching the progress of individuals.

Back against the stream of fugitives to the lepers and torch-bearers he

hastened, shouting to each division, "Saved! Saved! They have gained

the goal. Moses' staff is staying the waves. Many have already reached

the shore. Thank the Lord! Forward, that you, too, may join in the

rejoicing! Fix your eyes on the two red beacons! The rescued ones

lighted them! The servant of the Lord is standing between them with

uplifted staff."

Then, kneeling on the wet sand, he again pressed his ear to the ground,

and now heard distinctly, close at hand, the rattle of wheels and the

swift beat of horses' hoofs.

But while still listening, the noise gradually ceased, and he heard

nothing save the howling of the furious storm and the threatening dash of

the surging waves, or a single cry borne by the east wind.

The chariots had reached the dry portion of the bay and lingered some

time ere they continued their way along this dangerous path; but suddenly

the Egyptian war-cry rang out, and the rattle of wheels was again heard.

They advanced more slowly than before but faster than the people could

walk.

For the Egyptians also the road remained dry; but if his people only kept

a short distance in advance he need feel no anxiety; during the night the

rescued tribes could disperse among the mountains and hide in places

where no chariots nor horses could follow. Moses knew this region where

he had lived so long as a fugitive; it was only necessary to inform him

of the close vicinity of the foe. So he trusted one of his play-fellows

of the tribe of Benjamin with the message, and the latter had not far to

go to reach the shore. He himself remained behind to watch the

approaching army; for already, without stooping or listening, spite of

the storm raging around him, he heard the rattle of wheels and the

neighing of the horses. But the lepers, whose ears also caught the

sound, wailed and lamented, feeling themselves in imagination flung to

the ground, crushed by the chariots, or crowded into a watery grave, for

the pathway had grown narrower and the sea seemed to be trying in earnest

to regain the land it had lost.

The men and cattle could no longer advance in ranks as wide as before,

and while the files of the hurrying bodies narrowed they lengthened, and

precious time was lost. Those on the right were already wading through

the rising water in haste and terror; for already the commands of the

Egyptian leaders were heard in the distance.

But the enemy was evidently delayed, and Ephraim easily perceived the

cause of their diminished speed; for the road constantly grew softer and

the narrow wheels of the chariots cut deeply into it and perhaps sank to

the axles.

Protected by the darkness, he glided forward toward the pursuers, as far

as he could, and heard here a curse, yonder a fierce command to ply the

lash more vigorously; at last he distinctly heard one leader exclaim to

the man next him:

"Accursed folly! If they had only let us start before noon, and not

waited until the omen had been consulted and Anna had been installed with

all due solemnity in Bai's place, it would have been easy work, and we

should have caught them like a flock of quail! The chief-priest was wont

to bear himself stoutly in the field, and now he gives up the command

because a dying woman touches his heart."

"Siptah's mother!" said another soothingly. "Yet, after all, twenty

princesses ought not to have turned him from his duty to us. Had he

remained, there would have been no need of scourging our steeds to death,

and that at an hour when every sensible leader lets his men gather round

the camp-fires to eat their suppers and play draughts. Look to the

horses, Heter! We are fast in the sand again!"

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:

"Yes, yes, I did it for that, for that alone. And the prince was so

abhorrent to me. And the shame, the disgrace—oh, how terrible it was!"

"And you incurred it for my son's sake," the old man interrupted, raising

her hand, wet with his tears, to his lips; but she fixed her eyes on

Ephraim, sobbing softly:

"I thought of him too. He is so young, and it is so horrible in the

mines."

She shuddered again as she spoke; but the youth covered her burning hand

with kisses, while she gazed affectionately at him and the old man,

adding in faltering accents:

"Oh, all is well now, and if the gods grant him freedom…."

Here Ephraim interrupted her to exclaim in fiery tones:

"We are going to the mines this very day. I and my comrades, and my

grandfather with us, will put his guards to flight."

"And he shall hear from my lips," Nun added, "how faithfully Kasana loved

him, and that his life will be too short to thank her for such a

sacrifice."

His voice failed him—but every trace of suffering had vanished from the

countenance of the dying girl, and for a long time she gazed heavenward

silently with a happy look. By degrees, however, her smooth brow

contracted in an anxious frown, and she gasped in low tones:

"Well, all is well…. only one thing…. my body…. unembalmed….

without the sacred amulets. . . ."

But the old man answered:

"As soon as you have closed your eyes, I will give it, carefully wrapped,

to the Phoenician captain now tarrying here, that he may deliver it to

your father."

Kasana tried to turn her head toward him to thank him with a loving

glance, but she suddenly pressed both hands on her breast, crimson blood

welled from her lips, her cheeks varied from livid white to fiery scarlet

and, after a brief, painful convulsion, she sank back. Death laid his

hand on the loving heart, and her features gained the expression of a

child whose mother has forgiven its fault and clasped it to her heart ere

it fell asleep.

The old man, weeping, closed the dead girl's eyes. Ephraim, deeply

moved, kissed the closed lids, and after a short silence Nun said:

"I do not like to enquire about our fate beyond the grave, which Moses

himself does not know; but whoever has lived so that his or her memory is

tenderly cherished in the souls of loved ones, has, I think, done the

utmost possible to secure a future existence. We will remember this dead

girl in our most sacred hours. Let us do for her corpse what we

promised, and then set forth to show the man for whom Kasana sacrificed

what she most valued that we do not love him less than this Egyptian

woman."

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

I do not like to enquire about our fate beyond the grave

Then hate came; but it did not last long

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