The Yoke Part 28

"We did speak of the statue," she began.

"O, aye! I meant to tell thee how I had fortified myself against mischance. I can not break up the statue; sooner would I a.s.sail sweet flesh with a sledge; but when it is done I shall bury it in the sands.

It will wrench me sorely to do even that. During the carving I feel most secure, for Memphis and Masaarah think I come hither to look after the removal of stones, since I am a sculptor. But if an Egyptian should come upon it by mischance before it is complete, I have left no trace of myself upon it. Most of all I trust to the generosity of the Hathors, who have abetted me so openly thus far."

Rachel heard him thoughtfully.

"What a pity it is that thou must follow after the pattern of G.o.d and sate thy love of beauty by stealth under ban and in fear. Till what time Mizraim sets this law of sculpture aside she may not boast her wisdom flawless. It is past understanding why she exacts obedience to this law most diligently, which fathers these ill-favored images of her G.o.ds, when their habitations are most splendidly and most beautifully built. She robeth herself in fine linen, decketh herself with jewels, anointeth her hair and maketh her eyes lovely with kohl, and lo! when she would picture herself she setteth her shoulders awry and slighteth the grace of her joints and the softness of her flesh. O, that thy brave spirit had arisen long ago, ere the perversion had become a heritage, dear to the Egyptian sculptor as his bones! But now, artist though he be, his eye is so befilmed by ancient use that he sees no monstrousness in his work. So thou hast nation-wide, nation-old, nation-defended custom to fight. And alas! thou art but one, Kenkenes, and I fear for thee."

For once the young sculptor's ready speech failed him. He drew near her, his eyes s.h.i.+ning, his lips parted, drinking every word as if it were authoritative privilege for him to indulge his love of beauty without limit and openly. Here was that which he had sought in vain from those nearest to him--that which he had ceased to believe was to be found in Egypt--comfort, sympathy, perfect understanding. What if it came from the lips of an hereditary slave of the Pharaoh--a toiler in the quarries, an infidel, an alien nomad? If an alien, a slave, an unbeliever thought so deeply, felt so acutely and responded so discerningly to such delicate requirements--the slave, the nomad for him!

"Rachel," he began almost helplessly, "I am beyond extrication in debt to thee--thou golden, thou undecipherable mystery!"

She flushed to her very brows and her eyes fell quickly.

"I have appealed to all sources from which I might justly expect sympathy--to men of reason, of power, of mine own kin, and to women of heart--and not once have I found in them the broad and kindly understanding which thou hast displayed for me out of the goodness of thy beautiful heart. Behold! thou hast given speech to my own hidden longings, summarized my difficulties, foreshadowed my misfortunes, deplored them--aye, of a truth, heaved my very sighs for me!" His voice fell and grew reverent. "I would call thee an immortal, but there is a better t.i.tle for thee--woman--a true woman--and thou dost even uplift the name."

For the first time in the history of their acquaintance she laughed, not mirthfully, but low and very happily, and the fleeting glimpse she gave him of her eyes showed them radiant and glad. He caught her hands, the bundle of herbs fell, and drawing her near him, he lifted the pink palms to his lips and pressed them there.

"Nay," she said, recovering herself and withdrawing her hands, "I am not an Egyptian but a Hebrew, unbiased by the prejudices of thy nation.

It is not strange that I can understand thy rebellion, which is but a rift in thine Egyptian make-up through which reason shows. Any alien could comfort thee as well."

"And thou hast no more sympathy for me than any alien would have?" he asked, somewhat piqued.

"Is there any other sympathizing alien with whom I may compare and learn?" she asked with a smile.

She took up her bundle of herbs again and seemed to be preparing to leave him.

"How dost thou know these things," he asked hurriedly; "all these things--sculpture, religion, history?"

"I was not born a slave," she answered simply.

"Nay, cast out that word. I would never hear thee speak it, Rachel."

"Then, I was born out of servitude. My great grandsire was exempted by Seti when Israel went into bondage. His children and all his house were given to profit by the covenant. But the name grew wealthy and powerful to the third generation. My father was Maai the Compa.s.sionate, who loved his brethren better than himself. Them he helped. Rameses the Great forgot his father's promise when he found he had need of my father's treasure--" she paused and continued as if the recital hurt her. "There were ten--four of my mother's house, six of my father's. To the mines and the brick-fields they were sent, and in a little s.p.a.ce I was all that was left."

Horrified and conscience-stricken, Kenkenes made as if to speak, but she went on hurriedly.

"My mother's nurse, Deborah, who went with us into servitude, is learned, having been taught by my mother, and I have been her pupil."

"And there is not one of thy blood--not one guardian kinsman left to thee?" Kenkenes asked slowly.

"Not one."

Up to this moment, during every interview with Rachel, Kenkenes had forsworn some little prejudice, or sacrificed some of his blithe self-esteem. But the tragic narrative swept all these supports from him and left him solitary to face the charge of indirect complicity in murder. He was an Egyptian--a loyal supporter of the government and its policies; he had profited by Israel's toil, and if he succeeded to his father's office, Israel would serve him directly in his labor for the Pharaoh to be. He had known that Israel was oppressed, that Israel died of hard labor, and he had pitied it, as the humane soul in him had felt for the overworked draft-oxen or the sacrifices that were led bleating to the altars. Perhaps he had even casually decried the policy that sent women into the brick-fields and did men to death in a year in the mines. But his own conscience had not been hurt, nor had he taken the misdeed home to himself.

Now his sensations were vastly different. He felt all the guilt of his nation, and he had nothing to offer as amends but his own humiliation.

Of this he had an overwhelming plenitude and his eloquent face showed it. With an effort he raised his head and spoke.

"Rachel, if my humiliation will satisfy thee even a little as vengeance upon Egypt, do thou shame me into the dust if thou wilt."

"I do not understand thee," she said with dignity.

"Believe me. I would help thee in some wise, and alas! there is no other way by deed or word that I could prove my sorrow."

Tears leaped into her eyes.

"Nay! Nay!" she exclaimed. "Thou dost wrong me, Kenkenes. What wickedness were mine to make the one contrite, guiltless heart in Egypt suffer for all the unrepentant and the wrong-doers of the land!"

Once again he took her hand and kissed it, because the act was more eloquent than words at that moment.

"It is near sunset," she said softly, "give me leave to depart."

"Farewell, and the divine Mother attend thee."

She bowed and left him.

That night in the dim work-room Kenkenes brought forth upon papyrus a face of Athor, so full of love and yearning that he knew his own heart had given his fingers direction and inspiration. He sought no further.

To-morrow in the niche in the desert he would carve the want of his own soul in the countenance of the G.o.ddess.

CHAPTER XV

THE G.o.dS OF EGYPT

It was Kenkenes' first love and so was most rapturous, but it did not cast a glamour over the stern perplexities that it entailed. He knew the suspense that is immemorial among lovers, and further to trouble him he had the harsh obstacle of different society. Rachel was a quarry-slave, a member of the lowest rank in the Egyptian scale of cla.s.ses. She was an Israelite, an infidel and a reviler of the G.o.ds.

He was a descendant of kings, a devout Osirian and welcomed in Egypt's high places.

Never could extremes have been greater. But Kenkenes would not have given any of these obstacles a moment's consideration had not the weight of their neglect fallen on the shoulders of Rachel. If he had been a sovereign he could have taken her freely, and purple-wearing Egypt would have kissed her sandal; but he occupied a place that could provide with honor only him who was born to it.

To lift Rachel to that position would be to expose her to the affronts of an undemocratic society. On the other hand he might sacrifice name and station and go down to her; but he was not to be judged harshly because he hesitated at this step.

Rachel had given him no sign of preference beyond a pretty fellows.h.i.+p.

In the beginning this realization had hurt him, but as he tossed night after night, troubled beyond expression, he remembered this thing with some melancholy comfort. It was a sorry solution of his problem to feel that he was unloved, and even while he recognized its efficacy, he prayed that it might not be so.

His heavy heart did not r.e.t.a.r.d the progress of his statue or make its beauty indifferent. The more he suffered the greater the pa.s.sion in the face. He labored daily and tirelessly.

But day by day he looked, unseen, on his love in the valley, and the oftener he looked the more irresolute he grew. The conflict between his heart and his reason was gradually s.h.i.+fting in favor of his love.

His longing, as it continued to crave, grew from hunger to starving, and though his reason pointed to disastrous results, his heart justified itself in the blind cry, "Rachel, Rachel!"

He had endured a month before his fort.i.tude succ.u.mbed entirely. Once near sunset, as Rachel was proceeding toward the camp from some helpful mission to the quarries, she caught the fragments of a song, so distantly and absently sung that she could not locate it. There were singers among the Israelites, but they sang with wild exultation and more care for the sense than the melody. They had cultivated the chant and forgotten the lyric, because they had more heart for prophecy than pa.s.sion. Rachel had revered her people's song, but there was something in this half-heard music that touched her youth and her love of life.

She stopped to hear it well.

It had all the power and profundity of the male voice, but it was as subdued, as flawless and sympathetic as a distant, deep-toned bell.

There was not even a breath of effort in it, nor an insincere expression, and it pursued a theme of little range and much simplicity.