"What of the temple? In the temple, and in the whole country, for that matter, I have convinced myself of one thing, that the very best lands, the most active population, and immense wealth are not the property of the pharaoh."

"Quieter! quieter!" whispered Tutmosis.

"But I am quiet always; I have a calm face at all times, so let me speak even here; besides, I should have the right to say, even in the supreme council, that in this Egypt, which belongs entirely to my father, I, his heir and viceroy, had to borrow a hundred talents from a petty prince of Tyre. Is this not a shame?"

"But how did this come to thy mind to-day?" asked Tutmosis, wishing to put an end to the perilous conversation as quickly as possible.

"How?" answered the prince; and he grew silent, to sink again into meditation.

"It would not mean so much," thought he, "if they deceived me alone; I am only heir to the pharaoh, and not admitted to all secrets. But who will a.s.sure me that they have not acted in the same way with my worthy father? He has trusted them entirely during thirty and some years; he has bowed down before miracles, given abundant offerings to the G.o.ds, for this result,--that his property and power should pa.s.s into the hands of ambitious tricksters! And no one has opened his eyes. For the pharaoh cannot, like me, enter Phnician temples at night, and absolutely no one has admission to his holiness.

"But who will a.s.sure me to-day that the priests are not striving to overthrow the throne, as Hiram said? Even my father informed me that the Phnicians are most truthful wherever they have an interest to be so. a.s.suredly it is their interest not to be expelled from Egypt, and not to fall under the power of a.s.syria. The a.s.syrians are a herd of raging lions! Wherever they pa.s.s through a country nothing is left except ruins and dead bodies, as after a fire--"

All at once Rameses raised his head; from a distance came the sound of flutes and horns.

"What does this mean?" inquired he of Tutmosis.

"Great news!" replied the courtier, with a smile. "The Asiatics are welcoming a famous pilgrim from Babylon."

"From Babylon? Who is he?"

"His name is Sargon."

"Sargon?" repeated the prince. "Sargon? Ha! ha!" laughed the prince.

"What is he?"

"He must be a great dignitary at the court of King a.s.sar. He brings with him ten elephants, a herd of most beautiful steeds of the desert, crowds of slaves and servants."

"But why has he come?"

"To bow down before the wonderful G.o.ddess Astaroth, who is honored by all Asia," answered Tutmosis.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the prince, recalling what Hiram had said of the coming of the a.s.syrian amba.s.sador, Sargon. "Ha! ha! ha! Sargon, a relative of King a.s.sar, has become all at once such a devotee that for whole months he goes on a difficult journey only to do honor in Pi-Bast to the G.o.ddess Astaroth. But in Nineveh he could have found greater G.o.ds and more learned priests. Ha! ha! ha!"

Tutmosis looked at the prince with astonishment.

"What has happened to thee, Erpatr?" asked he.

"Here is a miracle not described, I think, in the chronicles of any temple. But think, Tutmosis: When thou art most occupied with the problem of catching the thief who is always plundering thee, that same thief puts his hand again into thy casket before thy eyes, in presence of a thousand witnesses. Ha! ha! ha! Sargon, a pious pilgrim!"

"I understand nothing," whispered Tutmosis, in anxiety.

"And thou hast no need to understand," replied the viceroy. "Remember only that Sargon has come hither for devotional purposes."

"It seems to me that everything of which thou art speaking," said Tutmosis, lowering his voice, "is very dangerous."

"Then do not mention it to any one."

"I will not; but art thou sure that thou thyself, prince, wilt not betray the secret? Thou art as quick as lightning."

The prince placed his hand on the courtier's shoulder.

"Be at rest," said he, looking him in the eyes. "If ye will only be loyal to me, ye, the n.o.bles, and the army, ye will see wonderful things, and, as regards you, evil times will be ended."

"Thou knowest that we are ready to die at thy command," said Tutmosis, placing his hand on his breast.

There was such uncommon seriousness on the adjutant's face that the prince understood, moreover not for the first time, that there was concealed in that riotous exquisite a valiant man, on whose sword and understanding he could put reliance.

From that time the prince had no more such strange conversations with Tutmosis. But that faithful friend and servant divined that connected with the arrival of Sargon were some great hidden interests of state which the priests alone had decided.

For a certain time all the Egyptian aristocracy, nomarchs, higher officials, and leaders had been whispering among themselves very quietly, yes, very quietly, that important events were approaching.

For the Phnicians under an oath to keep the secret had told them of certain treaties with a.s.syria, according to which Phnicia would be lost, and Egypt be covered with disgrace and become even tributary.

Indignation among the aristocracy was immense, but no one betrayed himself; on the contrary, as well at the court of Rameses as at the courts of the nomarchs of Lower Egypt, people amused themselves perfectly. It might have been thought that with the weather had fallen on men a rage not only for amus.e.m.e.nts but for riot. There was no day without spectacles, feasts, and triumphal festivals; there was no night without illuminations and uproar. Not only in Pi-Bast but in every city it had become the fashion to run through the streets with torches, music, and, above all, with full pitchers. They broke into houses and dragged out sleeping dwellers to drinking-bouts; and since the Egyptians were inclined toward festivities every man living amused himself.

During Rameses' stay in the temple of Hator the Phnicians, seized by a panic, pa.s.sed their days in prayer and refused credit to every man.

But after Hiram's interview with the viceroy caution deserted the Phnicians, and they began to make loans to Egyptian lords more liberally than at any time earlier.

Such abundance of gold and goods as there was in Lower Egypt, and, above all, such small per cent the oldest men could not remember.

The severe and wise priests turned attention to the madness of the upper cla.s.ses; but they were mistaken in estimating the cause of it, and the holy Mentezufis, who sent a report every few days to Herhor, stated that the heir, wearied by religious practices in the temple, was amusing himself to madness, and with him the entire aristocracy.

The worthy minister did not even answer these statements, which showed that he considered the rioting of the prince as quite natural and perhaps even useful.

With such mental conditions around him Rameses enjoyed much freedom.

Almost every evening when his attendants had drunk too much wine and had begun to lose consciousness, the prince slipped out of the palace.

Hidden by the dark burnous of an officer, he hurried through the empty streets and out beyond the city to the gardens of the temple of Astaroth. There he found the bench before that small villa, and, hidden among the trees, listened to the song of Kama's worshipper, and dreamed of the priestess.

The moon rose later and later, drawing near its renewal. The nights were dark, the effects of light were gone; but in spite of this Rameses continued to see that brightness of the first night, and he heard the pa.s.sionate strophes of the Greek singer.

More than once he rose from his bench to go directly to Kama's dwelling, but shame seized him. He felt that it did not become the heir of Egypt to show himself in the house of a priestess who was visited by any pilgrim who gave a bountiful offering to the temple.

What was more striking, he feared lest the sight of Kama surrounded by pitchers and unsuccessful admirers might extinguish the wonderful picture in the moonlight.

When Dagon had sent her to turn away the prince's wrath, Kama seemed attractive, but not a maiden for whom a man might lose his head straightway. But when he, a leader of armies and a viceroy, was forced for the first time in life to sit outside the house of a woman, when the night roused him to imaginings, and when he heard the adroit declarations of another, a strange feeling rose in him,--a mixture of sadness, desire, and jealousy.

If he could have had Kama at every call, she would have become repulsive quickly, and perhaps he would have fled from her. But Death, standing on the threshold of her bedchamber, an enamored singer, and, finally, that humiliating position of the highest dignitary before a priestess,--all this created a condition which for Rameses was unknown till that time, hence enticing.

And this was why he had appeared almost every evening of ten successive days in the gardens of the G.o.ddess Astaroth, shielding his face from all who pa.s.sed him.

Once, when he had drunk much wine at a feast in his palace, Rameses slipped out with a settled purpose.

"To-night," said he to himself, "I will enter Kama's dwelling; as to her adorers--let them sing at her windows."

He pa.s.sed through the city quickly; but in the gardens of the temple he lessened his steps, for again he was shamefaced.

"Has it ever been heard," thought he, "that the heir of a pharaoh ran after women like a poor scribe who cannot borrow ten drachmas anywhere? All women come to me, so should this one."

And he was ready then to turn back to his palace.