"It were better I should go," she insisted, trying to escape Masanath"s clasp. "If I go now I can reach my people and be hidden safely."
The little Egyptian flung herself upon the Israelite, weeping.
"Art thou, too, deserting me--thou, who art the last to befriend me?
What have I done that thou shouldst desert me?"
"Naught! Naught! Thou dear unfortunate!" was the pa.s.sionate reply.
"But I must go! I must!"
"Thou must flee from sure safety to only possible security!" Masanath demanded through her tears. "If I must wed this terrible prince, I shall put my misery to some use. I shall ask thy liberty at his hands and thou shalt live with me for ever, my one comfort, my one support."
"But Israel departeth shortly--"
"Thou shalt not go," Masanath declared hysterically. "I will not suffer thee! The doors shall be barred against thy departure!"
Rachel turned her head away and pushed back her hair. Her plight was desperate. Meanwhile Masanath went on.
"It is not like thee, Rachel, to desert me! I had not dreamed thee so selfish--so cruel!"
"Sister!" Rachel cried, "thou torturest me!" On a sudden Masanath raised her head and gazed at the Israelite.
"What possessed thee to go?" she demanded. "Is it Rameses who hath beset thee?"
Rachel shook her head and avoided Masanath"s eye.
"Tell me," the Egyptian insisted. "There is mystery in this. What had my father"s man to do with thy hasty resolution to depart?"
There was no answer. Masanath put the Israelite back from her a little and repeated her question.
"I can not tell thee," Rachel responded slowly.
Silence fell, and Masanath spoke at last, in a decided voice.
"Thou art within my house, and so under my command. Thou shalt not leave me! I have said!" She turned to go back to her cushions.
Rachel followed her.
"I pray thee, Masanath--"
"Hold thy peace. Let us have no more of this."
Rachel grew paler, and she clasped her hands as though praying for fort.i.tude. At last she broke out:
"Masanath! Masanath! That man--that Unas--attended the n.o.ble who halted me on the road to the Nile, that morning; he was the one sent back to Memphis for the doc.u.ment of gift; he pursued me into the hills.
He is the servant of the man who follows me!"
The Egyptian recoiled as though she had been struck.
"Nay, nay," she cried, throwing up her hands as though to ward off the conviction. "Not my father! Not he! Thou art wrong, Rachel!"
"Would to the Lord G.o.d that I were, my sister! But I am not mistaken in that face. He was the one that disputed with Kenkenes--was the one Kenkenes choked. Never was there another man with such a voice, such a face, such a figure! It is he!"
Masanath wrung her hands.
"Tell it over again. Describe the n.o.ble to me."
"He was third in the procession and drove black horses--"
"Holy Mother Isis! his horses were black. The first two would have been the princes of the realm, the next the fan-bearer. Nay, I dare not hope that it is not true. Since he would barter his own daughter for a high place, he would not hesitate to take by force the daughter of another. O Mother of Sorrows, hide me! my father! my father!" she wailed.
Under the combined weight of her griefs, she dropped on the carpeted pavement and wept without control. All of Rachel"s fear and horror were swept away in a wave of compunction and pity. She lifted the little Egyptian back upon her cushions again and, kneeling beside her, took the bowed head against her heart. Her hair fell forward and framed the two sorrowing faces in a shower of gold.
"Lo! I have been a guest under thy roof and at thy board, a pensioner upon thy cheer, and now, even while my heart was full of grat.i.tude, have I encroached upon thy happiness and broken thine overburdened heart. Forgive me, Masanath. Let me not come between thee and thy father, sister! Let me return to my people, for Israel shortly goeth forth. Doubt it not. Then shall I be out of his reach, and the Lord will not lay up the sin against him. Furthermore, dost thou not remember Deborah"s words while the spirit of prophecy was upon her?
Promised she not peace for us, and happiness and long tranquillity to follow these days of sorrow? Do thou have faith, Masanath. Cease not to hope, for the forces of evil have never yet triumphed wholly."
"Nay, but how shall that restore my pride in my father?" Masanath sobbed. "How shall I ever think of him without the bitterness of shame? What must the world think of him--of me? Now I know what the murket meant. He knew, and Kenkenes knew and all-- Alas! alas!" she broke forth in fresh grief, "and Hotep knows!"
Rachel could say no more, for in this sorrow no comfort could avail.
She stroked the little Egyptian"s hair and let the wounded heart soothe itself.
Presently Masanath"s mind wandered from the new villainy of her father to the memory of the older offense and she wept afresh.
"If thou goest, Rachel, there is none left to comfort me," she mourned.
"I am alone--desolate, and the powers of Egypt are arrayed against me!"
Rachel was hearing her own plight given expression. She put aside any thought of herself and applied herself to Masanath"s need.
"Nay, there is Hotep," she whispered. "He loves thee, and if there is aught in prophecy, he will comfort thee when I am gone."
"But thou shalt not go," Masanath cried. "Stay with me, Rachel."
"Thy father"s servant returneth in twenty days. As I have said, if I go now, I can reach my people and be hidden safely."
The Egyptian held fast to the Israelite and wept.
"Nay, Rachel. Stay with me. Thou art all I have!"
Rachel turned her head and gazed toward the south. Across the housetops, the far-off sickle of the Nile curved into a crevice between the hills and disappeared. Somewhere beyond that blue and broken sky-line her last claim to Egypt had been lost. Why should she stay when Kenkenes was gone? Meanwhile Masanath went on pleading.
If she departed, the next day"s sun might dawn upon him in Memphis, searching and sorrowing because he found her not. The hour of separation might be delayed for twenty days--in that time he might come.
"I will stay till my people go--if they depart within twenty days,"
Rachel made answer. "But I must be gone ere thy father"s servant returns."
Masanath rebelled, sobbing.
"Nay, weep not. The hour is distant. In that time, since these are days of miracles, thy sorrows and mine may have faded like a mist.
Come, no more. Let us bide the workings of the good G.o.d."