German fiction -- Translations into English; Palestine -- History -- Fiction
“Now,” replied Joshua, “he has a son who is going, laden with chains, to
endure a life of misery, but who can hold his head higher than those who
betrayed him. They, and Pharaoh at their head, have forgotten that he
has shed his heart’s blood for them on many a battlefield, and kept
faith with the king at every peril. Menephtah, his vice-roy and chief,
whose life I saved, and many who formerly called me friend, have
abandoned and hurled me and this guiltless boy into wretchedness, but
those who have done this, woman, who have committed this crime, may they
all....”
“Do not curse them!” interrupted Kasana with glowing cheeks.
But Joshua, unheeding her entreaty, exclaimed “Should I be a man, if I
forgot vengeance?”
The young widow clung anxiously to his arm, gasping in beseeching
accents:
“How could you forgive him? Only you must not curse him; for my father
became your foe through love for me. You know his hot blood, which so
easily carries him to extremes, despite his years. He concealed from
me what he regarded as an insult; for he saw many woo me, and I am his
greatest treasure. Pharaoh can pardon rebels more easily than my
father can forgive the man who disdained his jewel. He behaved like one
possessed when he returned. Every word he uttered was an invective. He
could not endure to stay at home and raged just as furiously elsewhere.
But no doubt he would have calmed himself at last, as he so often did
before, had not some one who desired to pour oil on the flames met him
in the fore-court of the palace. I learned all this from Bai’s wife;
for she, too, repents what she did to injure you; her husband used every
effort to save you. She, who is as brave as any man, was ready to aid
him and open the door of your prison; for she has not forgotten that you
saved her husband’s life in Libya. Ephraim’s chains were to fall with
yours, and everything was ready to aid your flight.”
“I know it,” Hosea interrupted gloomily, “and I will thank the God of
my fathers if those were wrong from whom I heard that you are to blame,
Kasana, for having our dungeon door locked more firmly.”
“Should I be here, if that were so!” cried the beautiful, grieving woman
with impassioned eagerness. “True, resentment did stir within me as
it does in every woman whose lover scorns her; but the misfortune that
befell you speedily transformed resentment into compassion, and fanned
the old flames anew. So surely as I hope for a mild judgment before the
tribunal of the dead, I am innocent and have not ceased to hope for your
liberation. Not until yesterday evening, when all was too late, did I
learn that Bai’s proposal had been futile. The chief priest can do much,
but he will not oppose the man who made himself my father’s ally.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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