Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Volume 02Ebers, Georg
History
Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Volume 02
Ebers, Georg
Egypt -- History -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English
She had already gone too far to turn back, or she would willingly have
done so. The longer she gazed into the but, the more deeply she felt the
impotence of her princely power, the nothingness of the splendid gifts
with which she approached it, and that she might not tread the dusty
floor of this wretched hovel but in all humility, and to crave a pardon.
The room into which she looked was low but not very small, and obtained
from two cross lights a strange and unequal illumination; on one side the
light came through the door, and on the other through an opening in the
time-worn ceiling of the room, which had never before harbored so many
and such different guests.
All attention was concentrated on a group, which was clearly lighted up
from the doorway.
On the dusty floor of the room cowered an old woman, with dark weather-
beaten features and tangled hair that had long been grey. Her black-blue
cotton shirt was open over her withered bosom, and showed a blue star
tattooed upon it.
In her lap she supported with her hands the head of a girl, whose slender
body lay motionless on a narrow, ragged mat. The little white feet of
the sick girl almost touched the threshold. Near to them squatted a
benevolent-looking old man, who wore only a coarse apron, and sitting all
in a heap, bent forward now and then, rubbing the child's feet with his
lean hands and muttering a few words to himself.
The sufferer wore nothing but a short petticoat of coarse light-blue
stuff. Her face, half resting on the lap of the old woman, was graceful
and regular in form, her eyes were half shut-like those of a child, whose
soul is wrapped in some sweet dream-but from her finely chiselled lips
there escaped from time to time a painful, almost convulsive sob.
An abundance of soft, but disordered reddish fair hair, in which clung a
few withered flowers, fell over the lap of the old woman and on to the
mat where she lay. Her cheeks were white and rosy-red, and when the
young surgeon Nebsecht--who sat by her side, near his blind, stupid
companion, the litany-singer--lifted the ragged cloth that had been
thrown over her bosom, which had been crushed by the chariot wheel, or
when she lifted her slender arm, it was seen that she had the shining
fairness of those daughters of the north who not unfrequently came to
Thebes among the king's prisoners of war.
The two physicians sent hither from the House of Seti sat on the left
side of the maiden on a little carpet. From time to time one or the
other laid his hand over the heart of the sufferer, or listened to her
breathing, or opened his case of medicaments, and moistened the compress
on her wounded breast with a white ointment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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