they all mocked and sneered at me. But that was not all. A cursed cook-boy nearly beat a sacred kitten to death before my very eyes. Then an ointment-mixer, who had heard that I was your servant, made that godless Bubares ask me whether I could cure diseases of the eye too. I said yes, because you know in sixty years it’s rather hard if one can’t pick up something from one’s master. Bubares was interpreter between us, and the shameful fellow told him to say that he was very much disturbed about a dreadful disease in his eyes. I asked what it was, and received for answer that he could not tell one thing from another in the dark!”
“You should have told him that the best remedy for that was to light a candle.”
“Oh, I hate the rascals! Another hour among them will be the death of me!”
“I am sure you behaved oddly enough among these foreigners,” said Nebenchiari smiling, “you must have made them laugh at you, for the Persians are generally very polite, well-behaved people. Try them again, only once. I shall be very glad to take you in this evening, but I can’t possibly do it before.”
“It is as I thought! He’s altered too, like everybody else! Osiris is dead and Seth rules the world again.”
“Farewell! When the seven stars rise, our old Ethiopian slave, Nebununf, will wait for you here.”
“Nebununf, that old rogue? I never want to see him again.”
“Yes, the very same.”
“Him—well it’s a good thing, when people stay as they were. To be sure I know some people who can’t say so much of themselves, and who instead of minding their own business, pretend to heal inward diseases, and when a faithful old servant...”
“Hold your tongue, and wait patiently till evening.” These last words were spoken seriously, and produced the desired impression. The old man made another obeisance, and before his master left him, said: “I came here under the protection of Phanes, the former commander of the Greek mercenaries. He wishes very much to speak with you.”
“That is his concern. He can come to me.”
“You never leave that sick girl, whose eyes are as sound as...”
“Hib!”
“For all I care she may have a cataract in both. May Phanes come to you this evening?”
“I wished to be alone with you.”
“So did I; but the Greek seems to be in a great hurry, and he knows nearly everything that I have to tell you.”
“Have you been gossiping then?”
“No—not exactly—but...”
“I always thought you were a man to be trusted.”
“So I was. But this Greek knows already a great deal of what I know, and the rest...”
“Well?”
“The rest he got out of me, I hardly know how myself. If I did not wear this amulet against an evil eye, I should have been obliged...”
“Yes, yes, I know the Athenian—I can forgive you. I should like him to come with you this evening. But I see the sun is already high in the heavens. I have no time to lose. Tell me in a few words what has happened.”
“I thought this evening...”
“No, I must have at least a general idea of what has happened before I see the Athenian. Be brief.”
“You have been robbed!”
“Is that all?”
“Is not that enough?”
“Answer me. Is that all?”
“Yes!”
“Then farewell.”
“But Nebenchari!”
The physician did not even hear this exclamation; the gates of the harem had already closed behind him.
When the Pleiades had risen, Nebenchari was to be found seated alone in one of the magnificent rooms assigned to his use on the eastern side of the palace, near to Kassandane’s apartments. The friendly manner in which he had welcomed his old servant had given place to the serious expression which his face usually wore, and which had led the cheerful Persians to call him a morose and gloomy man.
Nebenchari was an Egyptian priest through and through; a member of that caste which never indulged in a jest, and never for a moment forgot to be dignified and solemn before the public; but when among their relations and their colleagues completely threw off this self-imposed restraint, and gave way at times even to exuberant mirth.
Though he had known Phanes in Sais, he received him with cold politeness, and, after the first greeting was ended, told Hib to leave them alone.
“I have come to you,” said the Athenian, “to speak about some very important affairs.”
“With which I am already acquainted,” was the Egyptian’s curt reply.
“I am inclined to doubt that,” said Phanes with an incredulous smile.
“You have been driven out of Egypt, persecuted and insulted by Psamtik, and you have come to Persia to enlist Cambyses as an instrument of revenge against my country.”
“You are mistaken. I have nothing against your country, but all the more against Amasis and his house. In Egypt the state and the king are one, as you very well know.”
“On the contrary, my own observations have led me to think that the priests considered themselves one with the state.”
“In that case you are better informed than I, who have always looked on the kings of Egypt as absolute. So they are; but only in proportion as they know how to emancipate themselves from the influence of your caste.—Amasis himself submits to the priests now.”
“Strange intelligence!”
“With which, however, you have already long been made acquainted.”
“Is that your opinion?”
“Certainly it is. And I know with still greater certainty that once—you hear me—once, he succeeded in bending the will of these rulers of his to his own.”
“I very seldom hear news from home, and do not understand what you are speaking of.”
“There I believe you, for if you knew what I meant and could stand there quietly without clenching your fist, you would be no better than a dog who only whimpers when he’s kicked and licks the hand that torments him.”
The physician turned pale. “I know that Amasis has injured and insulted me,” he said, “but at the same time I must tell you that revenge is far too sweet a morsel to be shared with a stranger.”
“Well said! As to my own revenge, however, I can only compare it to a vineyard where the grapes are so plentiful, that I am not able to gather them all myself.”
