"'But what is this?' asked the scribe, pointing to a figure covered with a veil embroidered in gold and purple.

"'Thou must guard thyself from this most carefully,' warned the G.o.d.

'If thou touch this, thy immense estate will vanish. And there are few such estates in Egypt, I a.s.sure thee. Moreover, I must say that in the treasury here there are ten talents in gold and precious stones in addition.'

"'My sovereign,' cried the scribe, 'permit that the first place in this palace be held by thy sacred statue, before which I will burn incense three times daily.'

"'But avoid that,' replied Amon, pointing to the veiled figure.

"'Should I lose my wisdom, and be worse than a wild boar, for which wine is no better than swill,' said the scribe; 'let that veiled figure do penance here for a hundred millenniums, I will not touch it.'

"'Remember that if thou do thou wilt lose all thou hast,' cried the G.o.d; and he vanished.

"The scribe, now made happy, walked up and down through his palace and looked out through the windows. He examined the treasury and tried the gold in his hands; it was heavy. He looked at the precious stones; they were genuine. He commanded to serve him with food; in rushed slaves immediately, bathed him, shaved him, arrayed him in fine garments. He ate and drank as he never had drunk and eaten; his hunger joined with the perfection of the food gave a marvellous taste to it.

He burnt incense before the statue of Amon, and wreathed it with fresh flowers. Later he sat down at a window.

"In the courtyard a pair of horses were neighing; they were harnessed to a carved chariot. In another place a crowd of men with darts and nets were keeping down eager dogs which were tearing away to chase animals. Before a granary one scribe was receiving grain from earth-tillers; before the stable another scribe was receiving reckoning from the overseer of the shepherds.

"In the distance were visible an olive grove, high hills covered with grape-vines, wheat-fields, and on every field were date palms set out thickly.

"'In truth,' said he to himself, 'I am rich to-day, just as was proper; and I only wonder how I endured life so long in abas.e.m.e.nt and misery. I must confess, too, that I do not know whether I can increase this immense property, for I need no more now, and I shall not have time to run after investments.'

"But after a while it was tedious in the house for him; so he looked at the garden, went around the fields, talked with the servants, who fell on their faces in his presence, though they were dressed in such style that yesterday he would have thought it an honor to kiss the hands of any one of them; but he was bored in the field even, so he went back to the house, and examined the supplies in his storehouses and cellars, also the furniture in the chambers.

"'They are beautiful,' said he to himself; 'but it would be better if the furniture were made of gold, and the pitchers of jewels.'

"His eyes turned mechanically toward the corner where the figure was concealed under an embroidered veil--and it sighed.

"'Sigh!' said he, taking a censer to burn incense before the statue of Amon.

"'He is a kind G.o.d,' thought he, 'who values the qualities of sages, even when barefoot, and deals out to them justice. What a beautiful estate he has given me! It is true that I showed him honor by writing _Amon_ on the door of that hut in two manners. And how beautifully I reckoned how many hen eggs he would get for seven partridges. My teachers were right when they said that wisdom opens the lips of G.o.ds even.'

"He turned again toward the corner. The veiled figure sighed again.

"'I am curious to know,' thought the scribe, 'why my friend Amon forbade me to touch that thing over there in the corner. Well, for such a property he had a right to impose conditions; though I should not have imposed them on him. For if all this palace is my property, if I may use all that is here, why should I not even touch this thing-- I may not touch it, but I may look at it.'

"He approached the figure, drew the veil aside carefully, looked; it was indeed beautiful. It resembled a boy, but was not a boy. It had hair reaching to its knees, delicate features, and a look full of sweetness.

"'Who art thou?' asked the scribe of the figure.

"'I am a woman,' answered the figure, with a voice that penetrated his heart like a Phnician dagger.

"'Woman?' thought the scribe. 'They did not tell me about woman in the priests' school. Woman?' repeated he. 'But what hast thou here?'

"'Those are my eyes.'

"'Eyes? What canst thou see with eyes which would melt before any light?'

"'Those are not eyes made for me to look from, but thou must look into them.'

"'Wonderful eyes!' thought the scribe to himself; and he walked through the chamber.

"Again he stood before the figure, and asked,--

"'But what hast thou here?'

"'Those are my lips.'

"'By the G.o.ds, thou wilt die of hunger,' cried he, 'for with such little lips thou couldst take in no food whatever.'

"'They are not for eating,' answered the figure, 'but thou art to kiss them.'

"'To kiss,' repeated the scribe. 'They did not tell me in the priests'

school of kissing. But these--what are they?'

"'Those are my hands.'

"'Hands? It is well that thou hast told me, for with those hands thou couldst not do anything; thou couldst not milk sheep even.'

"'My hands are not for work.'

"'But for what?' wondered the scribe, spreading apart her fingers (as I do thine, Kama," said the prince, fondling the small hands of the priestess). "'But what are those arms for?' inquired the scribe of the figure.

"'To put around thy neck.'

"'Thou wishest to say shoulder,' cried the frightened scribe, whom the priest always seized by the shoulder when he was to get stripes.

"'Not by the shoulder,' said the figure, 'but this way;' and she put her arms around his neck thus," said the prince (here he put his arms around the priestess), "and she nestled up to his breast thus" (here he nestled up to Kama).

"Lord, what art thou doing?" whispered Kama. "But this is my death."

"Have no fear," replied the prince; "I was only showing thee what the statue did to that scribe in his palace. The moment she embraced him the earth trembled, the palace disappeared, dogs, horses, slaves vanished. The hill covered with grape-vines turned into a cliff, the olive-trees into thorns, the wheat into sand. The scribe, when he recovered in the embrace of his love, understood that he was as poor as he had been on the highroad a day earlier. But he did not regret his wealth, since he had a woman who loved and who clung to him."

"So everything vanished but the woman!" exclaimed Kama, navely.

"The compa.s.sionate Amon left her to the scribe to console him," said the viceroy.

"Then Amon is compa.s.sionate only to scribes," answered Kama. "But what does that story signify?"

"Guess. But thou hast just heard what the poor scribe yielded up for the kiss of a woman--"

"But he would not yield up a throne," interrupted the priestess.

"Who knows? if he were implored greatly to do so," whispered Rameses, with pa.s.sion.

"Oh, no!" cried Kama, tearing away from him; "let not the throne go so easily, for what would become then of thy promise to Phnicia?"

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time. The prince felt a wound in his heart, and felt as if through that wound some feeling had gone from him. It was not pa.s.sion, for pa.s.sion remained; but it was esteem for Kama, and faith in her.