"Thou hast acted," said he, "like a brave man. I give thee freedom. Tomorrow Thou wilt receive a reward and mayst return to thy own people."
The black tottered and rubbed his eyes, the whites of which were shining. Suddenly he dropped on his knees, and cried as he struck the floor with his forehead,
"Do not put me away, lord."
"Well," replied Ramses, "remain with me, but as a free warrior. I need just such men," said he, turning to Tutmosis. "He cannot talk like the overseer of the house of books, but he is ready for battle."
And again he inquired for details of the attack, when the Nubian told how a priest had approached, and when he related his miracles the prince seized his own head, exclaiming,
"I am the most hapless man in all Egypt! Very soon I shall find a priest in my bed even. Whence did he come? Who was he?"
The black servitor could not explain this, but he said that the priest's action toward the prince and toward Sarah was very friendly; that the attack was directed not by Egyptians, but by people who, the priest said, were enemies of Egypt, and whom he challenged to step forward, but they would not.
"Wonders! wonders!" said Ramses, meditating, and throwing himself on a couch. "My black slave is a valiant warrior and a man full of judgment. A priest defends a Jewess, because she is mine. What a strange priest he is! The Egyptian people who kneel down before the pharaoh's dogs attack the house of the erpatr under direction of unknown enemies of Egypt. I myself must look into this."
CHAPTER XI
The month Thoth has ended and the month Paofi (the second half of July) has begun. The water of the Nile, from being greenish and then white, has become ruddy and is rising continually. The royal indicator in Memphis is filled to the height of two men almost, and the Nile rises two hands daily. The lowest land is inundated; from higher ground people are removing hastily flax, grapes, and cotton of a certain species. Over places which were dry in the early morning, waves plash as evening approaches. A mighty, unseen whirlwind seems to blow in the depth of the Nile. This wind ploughs up broad spaces on the river, fills the furrows with foam, then smoothes for a moment the surface, and after a time twists it into deep eddies. Again the hidden wind ploughs, again it smoothes out, whirls, pushes forward new hills of water, new rows of foam, and raises the rustling river, wins without ceasing new platforms of land. Sometimes the water, after reaching a certain boundary, leaps across in a twinkle, pours into a low place, and makes a shining pond where a moment earlier withered grass was breaking up into dust heaps.