Die Schwestern. English
CHAPTER XVI.
Klea obeyed the high-priest's command at once, and wandered--not knowingexactly whither--from one corridor to another of the huge pile, till shewas startled by the sound of the great brazen plate, struck with mightyblows, which rang out to the remotest nook and corner of the precincts.This call was for her too, and she went forthwith into the greatcourt of assembly, which at every moment grew fuller and fuller. Thetemple-servants and the keepers of the beasts, the gate-keepers,the litter-bearers, the water-carriers-all streamed in from theirinterrupted meal, some wiping their mouths as they hurried in, or stillholding in their hands a piece of bread, a radish, or a date which theyhastily munched; the washer-men and women came in with hands still wetfrom washing the white robes of the priests, and the cooks arrived withbrows still streaming from their unfinished labors. Perfumes floatedround from the unwashed hands of the pastophori, who had been busied inthe laboratories in the preparation of incense, while from the libraryand writing-rooms came the curators and scribes and the officials ofthe temple counting-house, their hair in disorder, and their lightworking-dress stained with red or black. The troop of singers, maleand female, came in orderly array, just as they had been assembled forpractice, and with them came the faded twins to whom Klea and Irene hadbeen designated as successors by Asclepiodorus. Then came the pupils ofthe temple-school, tumbling noisily into the court-yard in high delightat this interruption to their lessons. The eldest of these were sentto bring in the great canopy under which the heads of the establishmentmight assemble.
Last of all appeared Asclepiodorus, who handed to a young scribe acomplete list of all the inhabitants and members of the temple, that hemight read it out. This he proceeded to do; each one answered with anaudible "Here" as his name was called, and for each one who was absentinformation was immediately given as to his whereabouts.
Klea had joined the singing-women, and awaited in breathless anxiety along-endlessly long-time for the name of her sister to be called; for itwas not till the very smallest of the school-boys and the lowest of theneat-herds had answered, "Here," that the scribe read out, "Klea, thewater-bearer," and nodded to her in answer as she replied "Here!"
Then his voice seemed louder than before as he read. "Irene, thewater-bearer."
No answer following on these words, a slight movement, like the bowingwave that flies over a ripe cornfield when the morning breeze sweepsacross the ears, was evident among the assembled inhabitants of thetemple, who waited in breathless silence till Asclepiodorus stood forth,and said in a distinct and audible voice:
"You have all met here now at my call. All have obeyed it exceptingthose holy men consecrated to Serapis, whose vows forbid their breakingtheir seclusion, and Irene, the water-bearer. Once more I call, 'Irene,'a second, and a third time--and still no answer; I now appeal to you allassembled here, great and small, men and women who serve Serapis. Canany one of you give any information as to the whereabouts of this younggirl? Has any one seen her since, at break of day, she placed the firstlibation from the Well of the Sun on the altar of the god? You are allsilent! Then no one has met her in the course of this day? Now, onequestion more, and whoever can answer it stand forth and speak the wordsof truth.
"By which gate did this lady of rank depart who visited the temple earlythis morning?--By the eastern gate--good.
"Was she alone?--She was.
"By which gate did the epistolographer Eulaeus depart?--By the east.
"Was he alone?--He was.
"Did any one here present meet the chariot either of the lady or ofEulaeus?"
"I did," cried a car-driver, whose daily duty it was to go to Memphiswith his oxen and cart to fetch provisions for the kitchen, and othernecessaries.
"Speak," said the high-priest.
"I saw," replied the man, "the white horses of my Lord Eulaeus hardby the vineyard of Khakem; I know them well. They were harnessed to aclosed chariot, in which besides himself sat a lady."
"Was it Irene?" asked Asclepiodorus.
"I do not know," replied the tarter, "for I could not see who sat in thechariot, but I heard the voice of Eulaeus, and then a woman's laugh. Shelaughed so heartily that I had to screw my mouth up myself, it tickledme so."
While Klea supposed this description to apply to Irene's merrylaugh-which she had never thought of with regret till this moment--thehigh-priest exclaimed:
"You, keeper of the eastern gate, did the lady and Eulaeus enter andleave this sanctuary together?"
"No," was the answer. "She came in half an hour later than he did, andshe quitted the temple quite alone and long after the eunuch."
"And Irene did not pass through your gate, and cannot have gone out byit?--I ask you in the name of the god we serve!"
"She may have done so, holy father," answered the gate-keeper in muchalarm. "I have a sick child, and to look after him I went into my roomseveral times; but only for a few minutes at a time-still, the gatestands open, all is quiet in Memphis now."
"You have done very wrong," said Asclepiodorus severely, "but since youhave told the truth you may go unpunished. We have learned enough. Allyou gate-keepers now listen to me. Every gate of the temple must becarefully shut, and no one--not even a pilgrim nor any dignitary fromMemphis, however high a personage he may be--is to enter or go outwithout my express permission; be as alert as if you feared an attack,and now go each of you to his duties."
The assembly dispersed; these to one side, those to another.
Klea did not perceive that many looked at her with suspicion asthough she were responsible for her sister's conduct, and others withcompassion; she did not even notice the twin-sisters, whose place sheand Irene were to have filled, and this hurt the feelings of the goodelderly maidens, who had to perform so much lamenting which they did notfeel at all, that they eagerly seized every opportunity of expressingtheir feelings when, for once in a way, they were moved to sinceresorrow. But neither these sympathizing persons nor any other of theinhabitants of the temple, who approached Klea with the purpose ofquestioning or of pitying her, dared to address her, so stern andterrible was the solemn expression of her eyes which she kept fixed uponthe ground.
At last she remained alone in the great court; her heart beat fasterunusual, and strange and weighty thoughts were stirring in her soul.One thing was clear to her: Eulaeus--her father's ruthless foe anddestroyer--was now also working the fall of the child of the man hehad ruined, and, though she knew it not, the high-priest shared hersuspicions. She, Klea, was by no means minded to let this happen withoutan effort at defence, and it even became clearer and clearer to her mindthat it was her duty to act, and without delay. In the first instanceshe would ask counsel of her friend Serapion; but as she approached hiscell the gong was sounded which summoned the priests to service, and atthe same time warned her of her duty of fetching water.
Mechanically, and still thinking of nothing but Irene's deliverance, shefulfilled the task which she was accustomed to perform every day at thesound of this brazen clang, and went to her room to fetch the goldenjars of the god.
As she entered the empty room her cat sprang to meet her with two leapsof joy, putting up her back, rubbing her soft head against her feet withher fine bushy tail ringed with black stripes set up straight, ascats are wont only when they are pleased. Klea was about to stroke thecoaxing animal, but it sprang back, stared at her shyly, and, as shecould not help thinking, angrily with its green eyes, and then shrankback into the corner close to Irene's couch.
"She mistook me!" thought Klea. "Irene is more lovable than I even to abeast, and Irene, Irene--" She sighed deeply at the name, and would havesunk down on her trunk there to consider of new ways and means--all ofwhich however she was forced to reject as foolish and impracticable--buton the chest lay a little shirt she had begun to make for littlePhilo, and this reminded her again of the sick child and of the duty offetching the water.
Without further delay she took up the jars, and as she went towards thewell she remembered the last pre
cepts that had been given her by herfather, whom she had once been permitted to visit in prison. Only a fewdetached sentences of this, his last warning speech, now came intoher mind, though no word of it had escaped her memory; it ran much asfollows:
"It may seem as though I had met with an evil recompense from the godsfor my conduct in adhering to what I think just and virtuous; but itonly seems so, and so long as I succeed in living in accordance withnature, which obeys an everlasting law, no man is justified in accusingme. My own peace of mind especially will never desert me so long as I donot set myself to act in opposition to the fundamental convictions of myinmost being, but obey the doctrines of Zeno and Chrysippus. This peaceevery one may preserve, aye, even you, a woman, if you constantly dowhat you recognize to be right, and fulfil the duties you take uponyourself. The very god himself is proof and witness of this doctrine,for he grants to him who obeys him that tranquillity of spirit whichmust be pleasing in his eyes, since it is the only condition of the soulin which it appears to be neither fettered and hindered nor tossed anddriven; while he, on the contrary, who wanders from the paths of virtueand of her daughter, stern duty, never attains peace, but feels thetorment of an unsatisfied and hostile power, which with its hard gripdrags his soul now on and now back.
"He who preserves a tranquil mind is not miserable, even in misfortune,and thankfully learns to feel con tented in every state of life; andthat because he is filled with those elevated sentiments which aredirectly related to the noblest portion of his being--those, I mean--ofjustice and goodness. Act then, my child, in conformity with justiceand duty, regardless of any ulterior object, without consideringwhether your action will bring you pleasure or pain, without fear of thejudgment of men or the envy of the gods, and you will win that peace ofmind which distinguishes the wise from the unwise, and may be happyeven in adverse circumstances; for the only real evil is the dominion ofwickedness, that is to say the unreason which rebels against nature, andthe only true happiness consists in the possession of virtue. He alone,however, can call virtue his who possesses it wholly, and sins notagainst it in the smallest particular; for there is no difference ofdegrees either in good or in evil, and even the smallest action opposedto duty, truth or justice, though punishable by no law, is a sin, andstands in opposition to virtue.
"Irene," thus Philotas had concluded his injunctions, "cannot as yetunderstand this doctrine, but you are grave and have sense beyond youryears. Repeat this to her daily, and when the time comes impress on yoursister--towards whom you must fill the place of a mother--impress on herheart these precepts as your father's last will and testament."
And now, as Klea went towards the well within the temple-wall to fetchwater, she repeated to herself many of these injunctions; she feltherself encouraged by them, and firmly resolved not to give her sisterup to the seducer without a struggle.
As soon as the vessels for libation at the altar were filled shereturned to little Philo, whose state seemed to her to give no furthercause for anxiety; after staying with him for more than an hour she leftthe gate-keeper's dwelling to seek Serapion's advice, and to divulgeto him all she had been able to plan and consider in the quiet of thesick-room.
The recluse was wont to recognize her step from afar, and to be lookingout for her from his window when she went to visit him; but to-day heheard her not, for he was stepping again and again up and down the fewpaces which the small size of his tiny cell allowed him to traverse.He could reflect best when he walked up and down, and he thoughtand thought again, for he had heard all that was known in the templeregarding Irene's disappearance; and he would, he must rescue her--butthe more he tormented his brain the more clearly he saw that everyattempt to snatch the kidnapped girl from the powerful robber must infact be vain.
"And it must not, it shall not be!" he had cried, stamping his greatfoot, a few minutes before Klea reached his cell; but as soon as he wasaware of her presence he made an effort to appear quite easy, and criedout with the vehemence which characterized him even in less momentouscircumstances:
"We must consider, we must reflect, we must puzzle our brains, for thegods have been napping this morning, and we must be doubly wide-awake.Irene--our little Irene--and who would have thought it yesterday! It isa good-for-nothing, unspeakably base knave's trick--and now, what canwe do to snatch the prey from the gluttonous monster, the savage wildbeast, before he can devour our child, our pet little one?
"Often and often I have been provoked at my own stupidity, but never,never have I felt so stupid, such a godforsaken blockhead as I do now.When I try to consider I feel as if that heavy shutter had been nailedclown on my head. Have you had any ideas? I have not one which would notdisgrace the veriest ass--not a single one."
"Then you know everything?" asked Klea, "even that it is probably ourfather's enemy, Eulaeus, who has treacherously decoyed the poor child togo away with him?"
"Yes, Yes!" cried Serapion, "wherever there is some scoundrel's trickto be played he must have a finger in the pie, as sure as there mustbe meal for bread to be made. But it is a new thing to me that on thisoccasion he should be Euergetes' tool. Old Philammon told me all aboutit. Just now the messenger came back from Memphis, and brought a paltryscrap of papyrus on which some wretched scribbler had written in thename of Philometer, that nothing was known of Irene at court, andcomplaining deeply that Asclepiodorus had not hesitated to playan underhand game with the king. So they have no idea whatever ofvoluntarily releasing our child."
"Then I shall proceed to do my duty," said Klea resolutely. "I shall goto Memphis, and fetch my sister."
The anchorite stared at the girl in horror, exclaiming: "That is folly,madness, suicide! Do you want to throw two victims into his jaws insteadof one?"
"I can protect myself, and as regards Irene, I will claim the queen'sassistance. She is a woman, and will never suffer--"
"What is there in this world that she will not suffer if it can procureher profit or pleasure? Who knows what delightful thing Euergetes maynot have promised her in return for our little maid? No, by Serapis! no,Cleopatra will not help you, but--and that is a good idea--there is onewho will to a certainty. We must apply to the Roman Publius Scipio, andhe will have no difficulty in succeeding."
"From him," exclaimed Klea, coloring scarlet, "I will accept neithergood nor evil; I do not know him, and I do not want to know him."
"Child, child!" interrupted the recluse with grave chiding. "Does yourpride then so far outweigh your love, your duty, and concern for Irene?What, in the name of all the gods, has Publius done to you that youavoid him more anxiously than if he were covered with leprosy? Thereis a limit to all things, and now--aye, indeed--I must out with it comewhat may, for this is not the time to pretend to be blind when I seewith both eyes what is going on--your heart is full of the Roman, anddraws you to him; but you are an honest girl, and, in order to remainso, you fly from him because you distrust yourself, and do not know whatmight happen if he were to tell you that he too has been hit by one ofEros' darts. You may turn red and white, and look at me as if I wereyour enemy, and talking contemptible nonsense. I have seen many strangethings, but I never saw any one before you who was a coward out of sheercourage, and yet of all the women I know there is not one to whom fearis less known than my bold and resolute Klea. The road is a hard onethat you must take, but only cover your poor little heart with a coatof mail, and venture in all confidence to meet the Roman, who is anexcellent good fellow. No doubt it will be hard to you to crave a boon,but ought you to shrink from those few steps over sharp stones? Our poorchild is standing on the edge of the abyss; if you do not arrive at theright time, and speak the right words to the only person who is able tohelp in this matter, she will be thrust into the foul bog and sink init, because her brave sister was frightened at--herself!"
Klea had cast down her eyes as the anchorite addressed her thus; shestood for some time frowning at the ground in silence, but at last shesaid, with quivering lips and as gloomily as if she were pronouncing asente
nce on herself.
"Then I will ask the Roman to assist me; but how can I get to him?"
"Ah!--now my Klea is her father's daughter once more," answeredSerapion, stretching out both his arms towards her from the littlewindow of his cell; and then he went on: "I can make the painful pathsomewhat smoother for you. My brother Glaucus, who is commander of thecivic guard in the palace, you already know; I will give you a fewwords of recommendation to him, and also, to lighten your task, a littleletter to Publius Scipio, which shall contain a short account of thematter in hand. If Publius wishes to speak with you yourself go to himand trust him, but still more trust yourself.
"Now go, and when you have once more filled the water-jars come backto me, and fetch the letters. The sooner you can go the better, for itwould be well that you should leave the path through the desert behindyou before nightfall, for in the dark there are often dangerous trampsabout. You will find a friendly welcome at my sister Leukippa's; shelives in the toll-house by the great harbor--show her this ring and shewill give you a bed, and, if the gods are merciful, one for Irene too."
"Thank you, father," said Klea, but she said no more, and then left himwith a rapid step.
Serapion looked lovingly after her; then he took two wooden tabletsfaced with wax out of his chest, and, with a metal style, he wrote onone a short letter to his brother, and on the other a longer one to theRoman, which ran as follows:
"Serapion, the recluse of Serapis, to Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica,the Roman.
"Serapion greets Publius Scipio, and acquaints him that Irene, theyounger sister of Klea, the water-bearer, has disappeared from thistemple, and, as Serapion suspects, by the wiles of the epistolographerEulaeus, whom we both know, and who seems to have acted under the ordersof King Ptolemy Euergetes. Seek to discover where Irene can be. Save herif thou canst from her ravishers, and conduct her back to this temple ordeliver her in Memphis into the hands of my sister Leukippa, the wifeof the overseer of the harbor, named Hipparchus, who dwells in thetoll-house. May Serapis preserve thee and thine."
The recluse had just finished his letters when Klea returned to him. Thegirl hid them in the folds of the bosom of her robe, said farewell toher friend, and remained quite grave and collected, while Serapion, withtears in his eyes, stroked her hair, gave her his parting blessing,and finally even hung round her neck an amulet for good luck, thathis mother had worn--it was an eye in rock-crystal with a protectiveinscription. Then, without any further delay, she set out towards thetemple gate, which, in obedience to the commands of the high priest, wasnow locked. The gate-keeper--little Philo's father--sat close by on astone bench, keeping guard. In a friendly tone Klea asked him to openthe gate; but the anxious official would not immediately comply withher request, but reminded her of Asclepiodorus' strict injunctions, andinformed her that the great Roman had demanded admission to the templeabout three hours since, but had been refused by the high-priest'sspecial orders. He had asked too for her, and had promised to return onthe morrow.
The hot blood flew to Klea's face and eyes as she heard this news. CouldPublius no more cease to think of her than she of him? Had Serapionguessed rightly? "The darts of Eros"--the recluse's phrase flashedthrough her mind, and struck her heart as if it were itself a wingedarrow; it frightened her and yet she liked it, but only for one briefinstant, for the utmost distrust of her own weakness came over heragain directly, and she told herself with a shudder that she was on thehigh-road to follow up and seek out the importunate stranger.
All the horrors of her undertaking stood vividly before her, and if shehad now retraced her steps she would not have been without an excuse tooffer to her own conscience, since the temple-gate was closed, and mightnot be opened to any one, not even to her.
For a moment she felt a certain satisfaction in this flatteringreflection, but as she thought again of Irene her resolve was once moreconfirmed, and going closer up to the gate-keeper she said with greatdetermination:
"Open the gate to me without delay; you know that I am not accustomedto do or to desire anything wrong. I beg of you to push back the bolt atonce."
The man to whom Klea had done many kindnesses, and whom Imhotep had thatvery day told that she was the good spirit of his house, and that heought to venerate her as a divinity--obeyed her orders, though with somedoubt and hesitation. The heavy bolt flew back, the brazen gate opened,the water-bearer stepped out, flung a dark veil over her head, and setout on her walk.