Next day at noon a royal litter stood before the hut. Two slaves were the bearers, one of whom was old and feeble. When Mary saw the litter she exclaimed that she would not allow her child to lie on so soft a couch. The boy smiled a little, so that two dimples appeared on his rosy cheeks, and said:
"Why, mother, do you think I would ride on those cushions? Now, let the sick slave get in, and I will take his place."
But the leader of the little procession was not agreeable. The boy could do as he liked, stay, or go with them.
"I shall stay," said Jesus, "and go to Pharaoh when I please." The litter returned empty to the palace.
The next day the boy made up his mind to go. His parents accompanied him through the palm-grove to the town. He walked between father and mother in his humble garb, and Joseph gave him good advice the while. Mary was silent and invoked the heavenly powers to protect her child. Only the boy was admitted through the gateway of the palace; father and mother remained behind and looked fearfully after their Jesus, who turned round to wave to them. His face was glad, and that comforted the mother. The father thought it incomprehensible that a child could so cheerfully and heedlessly part from the only creatures who cared for him; but he kept his thought to himself.
The boy felt curiosity, satisfaction, and repugnance all at the same time, when he gave himself into the hands of the servants, who led him to a refreshing bath, anointed him with sweet-smelling oil, and clad him in a silken garment. But he desired to learn what life in the royal palace was like. And gradually its splendour began to enfold him. The Arabian tales which his father loved to tell him contained marvels and splendours, but nothing to be compared with the magnificence and brilliance that now assailed his senses. Marble staircases as broad as streets, halls as lofty as temples, marble pillars, brilliantly painted domes. The sun came through the windows in every colour there is, and was reflected red, blue, green, and gold by the shining walls. But more fairy-like were the nights, when thousands of lamps burned in the halls, a forest of candelabra shone like a conflagration kept within bounds; when the courtiers seemed to sink into the carpets and divans and silken and down coverlets; when the sweet-smelling incense rose from the golden censers and intoxicated the brain; when a hundred servants made ready the banquet of indescribable luxury, and carried it in silver dishes, alabaster bowls, and crystal goblets; when youths and maidens, with arms entwined, crowned each other with wreaths of roses; when the fanfares sounded, and the cymbals clashed, and song gushed from maidens' throats; and when at length Pharaoh entered in flowing purple robes adorned with a thousand sparkling diamond stars—on his head an indented coronet, shining like carbuncle—the god! the sun-god! On all this our boy from the Nile hut looked as at something wonderful that had nothing to do with him. A fan of shimmering peacocks' feathers was put into his hand. Other boys had similar fans, and with half-bared limbs stood close to the guests and fanned them into coolness. Young Jesus was to do that for Pharaoh, but he did not do it, and sat on the floor and never grew weary of looking at Pharaoh's pale face. The king answered his gaze kindly: "I think that is the proud youth from the Nile, who does not desire to sit at the feet of Pharaoh."
"He shall sit at the right hand of God," sang the choir. Slowly, with the air of an irritated lion, the king turned his head in order to see what stupid choirmaster mingled Hebrew verses with the hymn of Osiris. Then ensued noise and confusion. The windows, behind which was the darkness, shone with a red light. The people had assembled before the palace with torches in order to do homage to Pharaoh, the son of Light. The king looked annoyed. Such homage was repeated every new moon—he desired it, and yet it bored him. He beckoned to the cup-bearers, he wanted a goblet of wine. That brought the blood to his cheeks, and the light to his eyes. He joined in the hymn of praise to Osiris, and his whole form glowed with strength and gladness.
When the quiet night succeeded the luxurious day, so still was it that the lapping of the waves of the Nile might be heard. Jesus lay on a curtained couch of down, and could not sleep. How well he had slept in the hut by the Nile! He was hot and rose and looked out of the window. The stars sparkled like tiny suns. He lay down again, prayed to his Father, and fell asleep. The next day, when the feast was over, he would find the rooms in which the old writings were kept, and the teachers who would instruct him. But it was not like the feast that comes to an end; it was repeated every day at the king's court.
It happened one night that the slaves stole around and woke each other. Jesus became aware of the subdued noise and asked the cause. One approached him and whispered, "Pharaoh weeps!" Like a mysterious breath of wind it went through the palace, "Pharaoh weeps!" Then all was still again, and the dreaming night lay over everything.
Jesus did not lie down again on the soft cushions, he rested on the cool floor and thought. The king weeps! Arabia and India, Greece and Rome have sent their costliest treasures to Memphis. Phoenician ships cruise off the coasts of Gaul, Albion, and Germany in order to obtain treasure for the great Pharaoh. His people surround him day after day with homage, his life is at its prime. And he weeps? Was it not perhaps that he sobbed in his dreams, or it may be laughed? But the watchers think he weeps.