CHAPTER VI.
"Pardon me if I disturb you."
With these words the anchorite's final speech was interrupted byEulaeus, who had come in to the Pastophorium softly and unobserved, andwho now bowed respectfully to Publius.
"May I be permitted to enquire on what compact one of the noblest of thesons of Rome is joining hands with this singular personage?"
"You are free to ask," replied Publius shortly and drily, "but every oneis not disposed to answer, and on the present occasion I am not. I willbid you farewell, Serapion, but not for long I believe."
"Am I permitted to accompany you?" asked Eulaeus.
"You have followed me without any permission on my part."
"I did so by order of the king, and am only fulfilling his commands inoffering you my escort now."
"I shall go on, and I cannot prevent your following me."
"But I beg of you," said Eulaeus, "to consider that it would ill-becomeme to walk behind you like a servant."
"I respect the wishes of my host, the king, who commanded you to followme," answered the Roman. "At the door of the temple however you can getinto your chariot, and I into mine; an old courtier must be ready tocarry out the orders of his superior."
"And does carry them out," answered Eulaeus with deference, but his eyestwinkled--as the forked tongue of a serpent is rapidly put out and stillmore rapidly withdrawn--with a flash first of threatening hatred, andthen another of deep suspicion cast at the roll the Roman held in hishand.
Publius heeded not this glance, but walked quickly towards theacacia-grove; the recluse looked after the ill-matched pair, and as hewatched the burly Eulaeus following the young man, he put both his handson his hips, puffed out his fat cheeks, and burst into loud laughter assoon as the couple had vanished behind the acacias.
When once Serapion's midriff was fairly tickled it was hard to reduce itto calm again, and he was still laughing when Klea appeared in front ofhis cell some few minutes after the departure of the Roman. He was aboutto receive his young friend with a cheerful greeting, but, glancing ather face, he cried anxiously;
"You look as if you had met with a ghost; your lips are pale insteadof red, and there are dark shades round your eyes. What has happened toyou, child? Irene went with you to the procession, that I know. Have youhad bad news of your parents? You shake your head. Come, child, perhapsyou are thinking of some one more than you ought; how the color risesin your cheeks! Certainly handsome Publius, the Roman, must have lookedinto your eyes--a splendid youth is he--a fine young man--a capital goodfellow--"
"Say no more on that subject," Klea exclaimed, interrupting her friendand protector, and waving her hand in the air as if to cut off the otherhalf of Serapion's speech. "I can hear nothing more about him."
"Has he addressed you unbecomingly?" asked the recluse.
"Yes!" said Klea, turning crimson, and with a vehemence quite foreignto her usual gentle demeanor, "yes, he persecutes me incessantly withchallenging looks."
"Only with looks?" said the anchorite. "But we may look even at theglorious sun and at the lovely flowers as much as we please, and theyare not offended."
"The sun is too high and the soulless flowers too humble for a man tohurt them," replied Klea. "But the Roman is neither higher nor lowerthan I, the eye speaks as plain a language as the tongue, and what hiseyes demand of me brings the blood to my cheeks and stirs my indignationeven now when I only think of it."
"And that is why you avoid his gaze so carefully?"
"Who told you that?"
"Publius himself; and because he is wounded by your hard-heartedness hemeant to quit Egypt; but I have persuaded him to remain, for if there isa mortal living from whom I expect any good for you and yours--"
"It is certainly not he," said Klea positively. "You are a man, andperhaps you now think that so long as you were young and free to wanderabout the world you would not have acted differently from him--it isa man's privilege; but if you could look into my soul or feel with theheart of a woman, you would think differently. Like the sand of thedesert which is blown over the meadows and turns all the fresh verdureto a hideous brown-like a storm that transforms the blue mirror of thesea into a crisped chaos of black whirl pools and foaming ferment, thisman's imperious audacity has cruelly troubled my peace of heart. Fourtimes his eyes pursued me in the processions; yesterday I still did notrecognize my danger, but to-day--I must tell you, for you are like afather to me, and who else in the world can I confide in?--to-day I wasable to avoid his gaze, and yet all through long endless hours of thefestival I felt his eyes constantly seeking mine. I should have beencertain I was under no delusion, even if Publius Scipio--but whatbusiness has his name on my lips?--even if the Roman had not boasted toyou of his attacks on a defenceless girl. And to think that you, you ofall others, should have become his ally! But you would not, no indeedyou would not, if you knew how I felt at the procession while I waslooking down at the ground, and knew that his very look desecrated melike the rain that washed all the blossoms off the young vine-shootslast year. It was just as if he were drawing a net round my heart--but,oh! what a net! It was as if the flax on a distaff had been set on fire,and the flames spun out into thin threads, and the meshes knotted of thefiery yarn. I felt every thread and knot burning into my soul, and couldnot cast it off nor even defend myself. Aye! you may look grieved andshake your head, but so it was, and the scars hurt me still with a painI cannot utter."
"But Klea," interrupted Serapion, "you are quite beside yourself--likeone possessed. Go to the temple and pray, or, if that is of no avail, goto Asclepios or Anubis and have the demon cast out."
"I need none of your gods!" answered the girl in great agitation. "Oh!I wish you had left me to my fate, and that we had shared the lot ofour parents, for what threatens us here is more frightful than havingto sift gold-dust in the scorching sun, or to crush quartz in mortars.I did not come to you to speak about the Roman, but to tell you what thehigh-priest had just disclosed to me since the procession ended."
"Well?" asked Serapion eager and almost frightened, stretching out hisneck to put his head near to the girl's, and opening his eyes so widethat the loose skin below them almost disappeared.
"First he told me," replied Klea, "how meagrely the revenues of thetemple are supplied--"
"That is quite true," interrupted the anchorite, "for Antiochus carriedoff the best part of its treasure; and the crown, which always used tohave money to spare for the sanctuaries of Egypt, now loads our estateswith heavy tribute; but you, as it seems to me, were kept scantilyenough, worse than meanly, for, as I know--since it passed through myhands--a sum was paid to the temple for your maintenance which wouldhave sufficed to keep ten hungry sailors, not speak of two littlepecking birds like you, and besides that you do hard service withoutany pay. Indeed it would be a more profitable speculation to steal abeggar's rags than to rob you! Well, what did the high-priest want?"
"He says that we have been fed and protected by the priesthood for fiveyears, that now some danger threatens the temple on our account, andthat we must either quit the sanctuary or else make up our minds to takethe place of the twin-sisters Arsinoe and Doris who have hitherto beenemployed in singing the hymns of lamentation, as Isis and Nephthys, bythe bier of the deceased god on the occasion of the festivals of thedead, and in pouring out the libations with wailing and outcries whenthe bodies were brought into the temple to be blessed. These maidens,Asclepiodorus says, are now too old and ugly for these duties, butthe temple is bound to maintain them all their lives. The funds of thetemple are insufficient to support two more serving maidens besides themand us, and so Arsinoe and Doris are only to pour out the libations forthe future, and we are to sing the laments, and do the wailing."
"But you are not twins!" cried Serapion. "And none but twins--so say theordinances--may mourn for Osiris as Isis and Neplithys."
"They will make twins of us!" said Klea with a scornful turn of herlip. "Irene's hair is to be dyed black like mine,
and the soles of hersandals are to be made thicker to make her as tall as I am."
"They would hardly succeed in making you smaller than you are, and it iseasier to make light hair dark than dark hair light," said Serapionwith hardly suppressed rage. "And what answer did you give to theseexceedingly original proposals?"
"The only one I could very well give. I said no--but I declared myselfready, not from fear, but because we owe much to the temple, to performany other service with Irene, only not this one."
"And Asclepiodorus?"
"He said nothing unkind to me, and preserved his calm and politedemeanor when I contradicted him, though he fixed his eyes on me severaltimes in astonishment as if he had discovered in me something quite newand strange. At last he went on to remind me how much trouble thetemple singing-master had taken with us, how well my low voice went withIrene's high one, how much applause we might gain by a fine performanceof the hymns of lamentation, and how he would be willing, if weundertook the duties of the twin-sisters, to give us a better dwellingand more abundant food. I believe he has been trying to make us amenableby supplying us badly with food, just as falcons are trained by hunger.Perhaps I am doing him an injustice, but I feel only too much disposedto-day to think the worst of him and of the other fathers. Be that asit may; at any rate he made me no further answer when I persisted in myrefusal, but dismissed me with an injunction to present myself beforehim again in three days' time, and then to inform him definitivelywhether I would conform to his wishes, or if I proposed to leave thetemple. I bowed and went towards the door, and was already on thethreshold when he called me back once more, and said: 'Remember yourparents and their fate!' He spoke solemnly, almost threateningly, buthe said no more and hastily turned his back on me. What could he meanto convey by this warning? Every day and every hour I think of my fatherand mother, and keep Irene in mind of them."
The recluse at these words sat muttering thoughtfully to himself for afew minutes with a discontented air; then he said gravely:
"Asclepiodorus meant more by his speech than you think. Every sentencewith which he dismisses a refractory subordinate is a nut of which theshell must be cracked in order to get at the kernel. When he tells youto remember your parents and their sad fate, such words from his lips,and under the present circumstances, can hardly mean anything else thanthis: that you should not forget how easily your father's fate mightovertake you also, if once you withdrew yourselves from the protectionof the temple. It was not for nothing that Asclepiodorus--asyou yourself told me quite lately, not more than a week ago I amsure--reminded you how often those condemned to forced labor in themines had their relations sent after them. Ah! child, the words ofAsclepiodorus have a sinister meaning. The calmness and pride, withwhich you look at me make me fear for you, and yet, as you know, I amnot one of the timid and tremulous. Certainly what they propose to youis repulsive enough, but submit to it; it is to be hoped it will not befor long. Do it for my sake and for that of poor Irene, for though youmight know how to assert your dignity and take care of yourself outsidethese walls in the rough and greedy world, little Irene never could. Andbesides, Klea, my sweetheart, we have now found some one, who makesyour concerns his, and who is great and powerful--but oh! what arethree clays? To think of seeing you turned out--and then that you may bedriven with a dissolute herd in a filthy boat down to the burning south,and dragged to work which kills first the soul and then the body! No, itis not possible! You will never let this happen to me--and to yourselfand Irene; no, my darling, no, my pet, my sweetheart, you cannot, youwill not do so. Are you not my children, my daughters, my only joy? andyou, would you go away, and leave me alone in my cage, all because youare so proud!"
The strong man's voice failed him, and heavy drops fell from his eyesone after another down his beard, and on to Klea's arm, which he hadgrasped with both hands.
The girl's eyes too were dim with a mist of warm tears when she saw herrough friend weeping, but she remained firm and said, as she tried tofree her hand from his:
"You know very well, father Serapion, that there is much to tie me tothis temple; my sister, and you, and the door-keeper's child, littlePhilo. It would be cruel, dreadful to have to leave you; but I wouldrather endure that and every other grief than allow Irene to take theplace of Arsinoe or the black Doris as wailing woman. Think of thatbright child, painted and kneeling at the foot of a bier and groaningand wailing in mock sorrow! She would become a living lie in human form,an object of loathing to herself, and to me--who stand in the place of amother to her--from morning till night a martyrizing reproach! But whatdo I care about myself--I would disguise myself as the goddess withouteven making a wry face, and be led to the bier, and wail and groan sothat every hearer would be cut to the heart, for my soul is alreadypossessed by sorrow; it is like the eyes of a man, who has gone blindfrom the constant flow of salt tears. Perhaps singing the hymns oflamentation might relieve my soul, which is as full of sorrow as anoverbrimming cup; but I would rather that a cloud should for ever darkenthe sun, that mists should hide every star from my eyes, and the airI breathe be poisoned by black smoke than disguise her identity,and darken her soul, or let her clear laugh be turned to shrieks oflamentation, and her fresh and childlike spirit be buried in gloomymourning. Sooner will I go way with her and leave even you, to perishwith my parents in misery and anguish than see that happen, or suffer itfor a moment."
As she spoke Serapion covered his face with his hands, and Klea, hastilyturning away from him, with a deep sigh returned to her room.
Irene was accustomed when she heard her step to hasten to meet her,but to-day no one came to welcome her, and in their room, which wasbeginning to be dark as twilight fell, she did not immediately catchsight of her sister, for she was sitting all in a heap in a corner ofthe room, her face hidden, in her hands and weeping quietly.
"What is the matter?" asked Klea, going tenderly up to the weepingchild, over whom she bent, endeavoring to raise her.
"Leave me," said Irene sobbing; she turned away from her sister with animpatient gesture, repelling her caress like a perverse child; and then,when Klea tried to soothe her by affectionately stroking her hair, shesprang up passionately exclaiming through her tears:
"I could not help crying--and, from this hour, I must always have tocry. The Corinthian Lysias spoke to me so kindly after the procession,and you--you don't care about me at all and leave me alone all this timein this nasty dusty hole! I declare I will not endure it any longer,and if you try to keep me shut up, I will run away from this temple, foroutside it is all bright and pleasant, and here it is dingy and horrid!"