Egypt -- History -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English
“You need not tell me that; I see old Hib can’t do anything right here
in Persia. Well, be it so, you’re master; you must give orders; I am
only the servant, I must obey. I won’t forget it. Well, as I was saying,
it was just at the time when the great Persian embassy came over to
Sais to fetch Nitetis, and made everybody stare at them as if they were
monsters or prodigies, that this shameful thing happened. I was sitting
on the mosquito-tower just as the sun was setting, playing with my
little grandson, my Baner’s eldest boy--he’s a fine strapping little
lad now, wonderfully sharp and strong for his age. The rogue was just
telling me how his father, the Egyptians do that when their wives leave
the children too much alone--had hidden his mother’s shoes, and I was
laughing heartily, because my Baner won’t let any of the little ones
live with me, she always says I spoil them, and so I was glad she should
have the trick played her--when all of a sudden there was such a loud
knocking at the house-door, that I thought there must be a fire and let
the child drop off my lap. Down the stairs I ran, three steps at a time,
as fast as my long legs would carry me, and unbarred the door. Before I
had time to ask them what they wanted, a whole crowd of temple-servants
and policemen--there must have been at least fifteen of them--forced
their way into the house. Pichi,--you know, that impudent fellow from
the temple of Neith,--pushed me back, barred the door inside and told
the police to put me in fetters if I refused to obey him. Of course I
got angry and did not use very civil words to them--you know that’s my
way when I’m put out--and what does that bit of a fellow do--by our god
Thoth, the protector of knowledge who must know all, I’m speaking the
truth--but order them to bind my hands, forbid me--me, old Hib--to
speak, and then tell me that he had been told by the high-priest to
order me five-and-twenty strokes, if I refused to do his bidding. He
showed me the high-priest’s ring, and so I knew there was nothing for it
but to obey the villain, whether I would or no. And what was his modest
demand? Why, nothing less than to give him all the written papers you
had left behind. But old Hib is not quite so stupid as to let himself
be caught in that way, though some people, who ought to know better, do
fancy he can be bribed and is no better than the son of an ass. What did
I do then? I pretended to be quite crushed into submission by the sight
of the signet-ring, begged Pichi as politely as I could to unfasten my
hands, and told him I would fetch the keys. They loosened the cords,
I flew up the stairs five steps at a time, burst open the door of your
sleeping-room, pushed my little grandson, who was standing by it, into
the room and barred it within. Thanks to my long legs, the others were
so far behind that I had time to get hold of the black box which you had
told me to take so much care of, put it into the child’s arms, lift him
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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