"Keep right on! It is but a Hebrew; and it would be a favor to the gods to drown a thousand a day."
The pilot obeyed his lord, and the bronze hawk-head of the gilded galley struck the boat near the stern, nearly capsizing it, and then the whole armament of twelve oars passed over it, striking overboard two of the slaves, as the twenty-four oarsmen swept the galley along at the height of its speed. I expected to see the priest, for such his costume betrayed him, also pressed down by the long oars, under which, like a low roof of inclined rafters, he was entangled; but stooping low until his forehead touched the book on his knee, the sweeps passed harmlessly over him, and when the galley had gone by, he recovered his sitting posture, maintaining, the while, a composure and dignity that made me marvel. His dark, handsome, oriental face betrayed scarcely any emotion at the danger or the indignity. Seeing that one of the slaves was swimming ashore, and that the other rose no more, he waved his hand to the remaining two who had fallen into the bottom of the boat, and who, recovering their oars, pulled him to the steps.
"A Hebrew!" repeated I to myself. "Truly, and the very likeness of Remeses, save that his hair is of a browner hue, and his beard tinged with a golden light. A Hebrew! What philosophy under insult and peril! A Hebrew! What contempt of him and his life was evinced by the haughty Egyptian noble! A Hebrew, and a priest!"
Such were the reflections to which I gave utterance, in an under-tone.
He debarked, and giving an order to the slaves, placed his scroll of papyrus beneath his robe, and, ascending the steps, bowed low, and with singular courtesy (for the Hebrews, mother, are naturally the most polished and benignant people in the world), said in the Phœnician tongue—
"I am indebted to you, sir merchant, for my life! Your timely voice enabled me to save myself, although I have lost one of the poor Nubian lads. Accept my gratitude!"
I could not remove my eyes from his face. It fascinated me! It seemed to be Remeses himself speaking to me; yet the hair of the prince is raven-black, and his beard also, while this man's is a rich brown, and his fine beard like a golden river. The eyes of Remeses are black, with a mild expression naturally, as if they were animated by a gentle spirit; while those of the priest are hazel, or rather a brilliant bronze, and full of the light of courage and of ardent fire. In person he is just the height of Remeses—carried his head in the same imperial manner, as if born to command; and the tones of his voice are marked by that rich emotional cadence—winning the ear and touching the heart—which characterizes the prince. His step is firm and commanding—his motions self-poised and dignified. He seems three or four years older than Remeses; but the likeness of the features, and the entire presence of the stranger recalled my royal friend so forcibly to my mind, on the occasion of which I speak, that I said mentally—"Were the Prince Remeses a Hebrew, or were this Hebrew an Egyptian, I should think them cousins, if not brothers!"
Pardon me, dear mother, for thus speaking of a royal personage; but I only make use of the language, to express to you how wonderful in every way, save in the color of hair and eyes, is the resemblance of this man to the prince.
"I did but a common duty to a fellow-being," was my reply. "But why did you address me in Syriac?"
"Are you not a Syrian merchant?" he asked, looking at me more closely, after I had spoken.