The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient EgyptPrus, Bolesław
History
The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient Egypt
Prus, Bolesław
Egypt -- History -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction
"Has a charm fallen on my eyes? Look, Rameses! Why, a second Egypt is
concealed between these cliffs!"
"That must be an estate of some priest who pays no taxes," replied the
prince, bitterly.
In the depth before their feet lay a rich valley in the form of a fork
the tines of which were hidden between cliffs. At the juncture of the
tines a number of servants' huts were visible, and the beautiful
little villa of the owner or manager. Palm-trees grew there, grapes,
olives, figs with aerial roots, cypresses, even young baobabs. In the
centre flowed a rivulet, and at the source of it, some hundreds of
yards higher up, small gardens were visible.
When they had gone down among grape-vines covered with ripe clusters,
they heard a woman's voice which called, or rather sang in pensive
notes:
"Where art thou gone from me, where art thou, hen of mine? Thou hast
fled, thou art gone from me. I give thee drink and clean grain; what I
give is so good that slaves envy thee. Where art thou gone, my
hen--wilt thou not answer me? Night will come down on thee, think of
that; thou wilt not reach thy home, where all are at work for thee.
Come; if thou come not, a falcon will fly from the desert and tear the
heart out of thee. If he come thou wilt call in vain, as I now call in
vain to thee. Give answer, or I shall be angry and leave this place.
If I leave thou'lt go home on thy own feet."
The song came toward the two men. The songstress was a few yards from
them when Tutmosis thrust his head from between the bushes, and
said,--
"Just look, Rameses, but that is a beautiful maiden!"
Instead of looking, the prince sprang into the path and stopped the
road before the songstress. She was really a beautiful maiden, with
Grecian features and a complexion like ivory. From under the veil on
her head peeped forth an immense mass of dark hair, wound in a knot.
She wore a white trailing robe which she held on one side with her
hand; under the transparent covering were maiden breasts shaped like
apples.
"Who art thou?" cried Rameses.
The threatening furrows vanished from his forehead and his eyes
flashed.
"O Jehovah! O Father!" cried she, frightened, halting motionless on
the path.
But she grew calm by degrees, and her velvety eyes resumed their
expression of mild sadness.
"Whence hast thou come?" inquired she of Rameses, with a voice
trembling a little. "I see that thou art a soldier, but it is not
permitted soldiers to come here."
"Why is it not permitted?"
"Because this is the land of a great lord named Sesofris."
"Ho! ho!" laughed Rameses.
"Laugh not, for thou wilt grow pale soon. The lord Sesofris is
secretary to the lord Chaires, who carries his fan for the most worthy
nomarch of Memphis. My father has seen him and fallen on his face
before him."
"Ho! ho! ho!" repeated Rameses, laughing continually.
"Thy words are very insolent," said the maiden, frowning. "Were
kindness not looking from thy face, I should think thee a mercenary
from Greece or a bandit."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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