CHAPTER XXXV.
The hours passed gaily with the drinkers, then they grew more and moresleepy.
Ere the moon was high in the heavens, while they were all sleeping,with the exception of Kaschta and Pentaur, the soldier rose softly.He listened to the breathing of his companions, then he approached thepoet, unfastened the ring which fettered his ankle to that of Nebsecht,and endeavored to wake the physician, but in vain.
"Follow me!" cried he to the poet; he took Nebsecht on his shoulders,and went towards the spot near the stream which Uarda had indicated.Three times he called his daughter's name, the young Amalekite appeared,and the soldier said decidedly: "Follow this man, I will take care ofNebsecht."
"I will not leave him," said Pentaur. "Perhaps water will wake him."They plunged him in the brook, which half woke him, and by the help ofhis companions, who now pushed and now dragged him, he staggered andstumbled up the rugged mountain path, and before midnight they reachedtheir destination, the hut of the Amalekite.
The old hunter was asleep, but his son aroused him, and told him whatUarda had ordered and promised.
But no promises were needed to incite the worthy mountaineer tohospitality. He received the poet with genuine friendliness, laid thesleeping leech on a mat, prepared a couch for Pentaur of leaves andskins, called his daughter to wash his feet, and offered him his ownholiday garment in the place of the rags that covered his body.
Pentaur stretched himself out on the humble couch, which to him seemedsofter than the silken bed of a queen, but on which nevertheless hecould not sleep, for the thoughts and fancies that filled his heart weretoo overpowering and bewildering.
The stars still sparkled in the heavens when he sprang from his bed ofskins, lifted Nebsecht on to it, and rushed out into the open air. Afresh mountain spring flowed close to the hunter's hut. He went to it,and bathed his face in the ice-cold water, and let it flow over his bodyand limbs. He felt as if he must cleanse himself to his very soul,not only from the dust of many weeks, but from the rebellion anddespondency, the ignominy and bitterness, and the contact with vice anddegradation. When at last he left the spring, and returned to the littlehouse, he felt clean and fresh as on the morning of a feast-day atthe temple of Seti, when he had bathed and dressed himself in robes ofsnow-white linen. He took the hunter's holiday dress, put it on, andwent out of doors again.
The enormous masses of rock lay dimly before him, like storm-clouds, andover his head spread the blue heavens with their thousand stars.
The soothing sense of freedom and purity raised his soul, and the airthat he breathed was so fresh and light, that he sprang up the pathto the summit of the peak as if he were borne on wings or carried byinvisible hands.
A mountain goat which met him, turned from him, and fled bleating, withhis mate, to a steep peak of rock, but Pentaur said to the frightenedbeasts:
"I shall do nothing to you--not I!"
He paused on a little plateau at the foot of the jagged granite peakof the mountain. Here again he heard the murmur of a spring, the grassunder his feet was damp, and covered with a film of ice, in which weremirrored the stars, now gradually fading. He looked up at the lights inthe sky, those never-tarrying, and yet motionless wanderers-away, tothe mountain heights around him-down, into the gorge below--and far off,into the distance.
The dusk slowly grew into light, the mysterious forms of themountain-chain took shape and stood up with their shining points, thelight clouds were swept away like smoke. Thin vapors rose from the oasisand the other valleys at his feet, at first in heavy masses, then theyparted and were wafted, as if in sport, above and beyond him to thesky. Far below him soared a large eagle, the only living creature far ornear.
A solemn and utter silence surrounded him, and when the eagle swoopeddown and vanished from his sight, and the mist rolled lower into thevalley, he felt that here, alone, he was high above all other livingbeings, and standing nearer to the Divinity.
He drew his breath fully and deeply, he felt as he had felt in the firsthours after his initiation, when for the first time he was admitted tothe holy of holies--and yet quite different.
Instead of the atmosphere loaded with incense, he breathed a light pureair; and the deep stillness of the mountain solitude possessed his soulmore strongly than the chant of the priests.
Here, it seemed to him, that the Divine being would hear the lightestmurmur of his lips, though indeed his heart was so full of gratitude anddevotion that his impulse was to give expression to his mighty flow offeelings in jubilant song. But his tongue seemed tied; he knelt down insilence, to pray and to praise.
Then he looked at the panorama round him. Where was the east which inEgypt was clearly defined by the long Nile range? Down there where itwas beginning to be light over the oasis. To his right hand lay thesouth, the sacred birth-place of the Nile, the home of the Gods ofthe Cataracts; but here flowed no mighty stream, and where was there ashrine for the visible manifestation of Osiris and Isis; of Horns, bornof a lotus flower in a thicket of papyrus; of Rennut, the Goddess ofblessings, and of Zeta? To which of them could he here lift his hands inprayer?
A faint breeze swept by, the mist vanished like a restless shade at theword of the exorcist, the many-pointed crown of Sinai stood out insharp relief, and below them the winding valleys, and the dark coloredrippling surface of the lake, became distinctly visible.
All was silent, all untouched by the hand of man yet harmonized toone great and glorious whole, subject to all the laws of the universe,pervaded and filled by the Divinity.
He would fain have raised his hand in thanksgiving to Apheru, "the Guideon the way;" but he dared not; and how infinitely small did the Godsnow seem to him, the Gods he had so often glorified to the multitudein inspired words, the Gods that had no meaning, no dwelling-place, nodominion but by the Nile.
"To ye," he murmured, "I cannot pray! Here where my eye can pierce thedistance, as if I myself were a god-here I feel the presence of the One,here He is near me and with me--I will call upon Him and praise him!"
And throwing up his arms he cried aloud: "Thou only One! Thou only One!Thou only One!" He said no more; but a tide of song welled up in hisbreast as he spoke--a flood of thankfulness and praise.
When he rose from his knees, a man was standing by him; his eyes werepiercing and his tall figure had the dignity of a king, in spite of hisherdsman's dress.
"It is well for you!" said the stranger in deep slow accents. "You seekthe true God."
Pentaur looked steadily into the face of the bearded man before him.
"I know you now," he said. "You are Mesu.--[Moses]--I was but a boy whenyou left the temple of Seti, but your features are stamped on my soul.Ameni initiated me, as well as you, into the knowledge of the One God."
"He knows Him not," answered the other, looking thoughtfully to theeastern horizon, which every moment grew brighter.
The heavens glowed with purple, and the granite peaks, each sheathedin a film of ice, sparkled and shone like dark diamonds that had beendipped in light.
The day-star rose, and Pentaur turned to it, and prostrated himself ashis custom was. When he rose, Mesu also was kneeling on the earth, buthis back was turned to the sun.
When he had ended his prayer, Pentaur said, "Why do you turn your backon the manifestation of the Sun-god? We were taught to look towards himwhen he approaches."
"Because I," said his grave companion, "pray to another God thanyours. The sun and stars are but as toys in his hand, the earth is hisfoot-stool, the storm is his breath, and the sea is in his sight as thedrops on the grass."
"Teach me to know the Mighty One whom you worship!" exclaimed Pentaur.
"Seek him," said Mesu, "and you will find him; for you have passedthrough misery and suffering, and on this spot on such a morning as thiswas He revealed to me."
The stranger turned away, and disappeared behind a rock from theenquiring gaze of Pentaur, who fixed his eyes on the distance.
Then he thoughtfully descended
the valley, and went towards the hutof the hunter. He stayed his steps when he heard men's voices, but therocks hid the speakers from his sight.
Presently he saw the party approaching; the son of his host, a manin Egyptian dress, a lady of tall stature, near whom a girl trippedlightly, and another carried in a litter by slaves.
Pentaur's heart beat wildly, for he recognized Bent-Anat and hercompanions. They disappeared by the hunter's cottage, but he stoodstill, breathing painfully, spell-bound to the cliff by which hestood--a long, long time--and did not stir.
He did not hear a light step, that came near to him, and died awayagain, he did not feel that the sun began to cast fierce beams on him,and on the porphyry cliff behind him, he did not see a woman now comingquickly towards him; but, like a deaf man who has suddenly acquired thesense of hearing, he started when he heard his name spoken--by whoselips?
"Pentaur!" she said again; the poet opened his arms, and Bent-Anat fellupon his breast; and he held her to him, clasped, as though he must holdher there and never part from her all his life long.
Meanwhile the princess's companions were resting by the hunter's littlehouse.
"She flew into his arms--I saw it," said Uarda. "Never shall I forgetit. It was as if the bright lake there had risen up to embrace themountain."
"Where do you find such fancies, child?" cried Nefert.
"In my heart, deep in my heart!" cried Uarda. "I am so unspeakablyhappy."
"You saved him and rewarded him for his goodness; you may well behappy."
"It is not only that," said Uarda. "I was in despair, and now I see thatthe Gods are righteous and loving."
Mena's wife nodded to her, and said with a sigh:
"They are both happy!"
"And they deserve to be!" exclaimed Uarda. "I fancy the Goddess of Truthis like Bent-Anat, and there is not another man in Egypt like Pentaur."
Nefert was silent for awhile; then she asked softly: "Did you ever seeMena?"
"How should I?" replied the girl. "Wait a little while, and yourturn will come. I believe that to-day I can read the future like aprophetess. But let us see if Nebsecht lies there, and is still asleep.The draught I put into the wine must have been strong."
"It was," answered Nefert, following her into the hut.
The physician was still lying on the bed, and sleeping with his mouthwide open. Uarda knelt down by his side, looked in his face, and said:
"He is clever and knows everything, but how silly he looks now! I willwake him."
She pulled a blade of grass out of the heap on which he was lying, andsaucily tickled his nose.
Nebsecht raised himself, sneezed, but fell back asleep again; Uardalaughed out with her clear silvery tones. Then she blushed--"That is notright," she said, "for he is good and generous."
She took the sleeper's hand, pressed it to her lips, and wiped the dropsfrom his brow. Then he awoke, opened his eyes, and muttered half in adream still:
"Uarda--sweet Uarda."
The girl started up and fled, and Nefert followed her.
When Nebsecht at last got upon his feet and looked round him, he foundhimself alone in a strange house. He went out of doors, where he foundBent-Anat's little train anxiously discussing things past and to come.