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СКАЧАТЬ who touches the child is a dead man!” he cried. “Shame on you!—falling on a feeble old man and a helpless child in the middle of a holy festival!”

      For a moment the crowd was silent, but immediately after rushed forward with fresh impetus, and wilder than ever rose the shouts of:

      “Tear him to pieces! burn his house down!”

      A few artisans from Thebes closed round the poet, who was not recognizable as a priest. He, however, wielding his tent-pole, felled them before they could reach him with their fists or cudgels, and down went every man on whom it fell. But the struggle could not last long, for some of his assailants sprang over the fence, and attacked him in the rear. And now Pentaur was distinctly visible against a background of flaring light, for some fire-brands had fallen on the dry palm-thatch of the hovel behind him, and roaring flames rose up to the dark heavens.

      The poet heard the threatening blaze behind him. He put his left hand round the head of the trembling girl, who crouched beside him, and feeling that now they both were lost, but that to his latest breath he must protect the innocence and life of this frail creature, with his right hand he once more desperately swung the heavy stake.

      But it was for the last time; for two men succeeded in clutching the weapon, others came to their support, and wrenched it from his hand, while the mob closed upon him, furious but unarmed, and not without great fear of the enormous strength of their opponent.

      Uarda clung to her protector with shortened breath, and trembling like a hunted antelope. Pentaur groaned when he felt himself disarmed, but at that instant a youth stood by his side, as if he had sprung from the earth, who put into his hand the sword of the fallen soldier—who lay near his feet—and who then, leaning his back against Pentaur’s, faced the foe on the other side. Pentaur pulled himself together, sent out a battle-cry like some fighting hero who is defending his last stronghold, and brandished his new weapon. He stood with flaming eyes, like a lion at bay, and for a moment the enemy gave way, for his young ally Rameri, had taken a hatchet, and held it up in a threatening manner.

      “The cowardly murderers are flinging fire-brands,” cried the prince. “Come here, girl, and I will put out the pitch on your dress.”

      He seized Uarda’s hand, drew her to him, and hastily put out the flame, while Pentaur protected them with his sword.

      The prince and the poet stood thus back to back for a few moments, when a stone struck Pentaur’s head; he staggered, and the crowd were rushing upon him, when the little fence was torn away by a determined hand, a tall womanly form appeared on the scene of combat, and cried to the astonished mob:

      “Have done with this! I command you! I am Bent-Anat, the daughter of Rameses.”

      The angry crowd gave way in sheer astonishment. Pentaur had recovered from the stunning blow, but he thought he must be under some illusion. He felt as if he must throw himself on his knees before Bent-Anat, but his mind had been trained under Ameni to rapid reflection; he realized, in a flash of thought, the princess’s position, and instead of bowing before her he exclaimed:

      “Whoever this woman may be, good folks, she is not Bent-Anat the princess, but I, though I have no white robe on, am a priest of Seti, named Pentaur, and the Cherheb of to-day’s festival. Leave this spot, woman, I command you, in right of my sacred office.”

      And Bent-Anat obeyed.

      Pentaur was saved; for just as the people began to recover from their astonishment just as those whom he had hurt were once more inciting the mob to fight just as a boy, whose hand he had crushed, was crying out: “He is not a priest, he is a sword’s-man. Down with the liar!”

      A voice from the crowd exclaimed:

      “Make way for my white robe, and leave the preacher Pentaur alone, he is my friend. You most of you know me.”

      “You are Nebsecht the leech, who set my broken leg,” cried a sailor.

      “And cured my bad eye,” said a weaver.

      “That tall handsome man is Pentaur, I know him well,” cried the girl, whose opinion had been overheard by Bent-Anat.

      “Preacher this, preacher that!” shouted the boy, and he would have rushed forward, but the people held him back, and divided respectfully at Nebsecht’s command to make way for him to get at those who had been hurt.

      First he stooped over the old paraschites.

      “Shame upon you!” he exclaimed.—“You have killed the old man.”

      “And I,” said Pentaur, “Have dipped my peaceful hand in blood to save his innocent and suffering grandchild from a like fate.”

      “Scorpions, vipers, venomous reptiles, scum of men!” shrieked Nebsecht, and he sprang wildly forward, seeking Uarda. When he saw her sitting safe at the feet of old Hekt, who had made her way into the courtyard, he drew a deep breath of relief, and turned his attention to the wounded.

      “Did you knock down all that are lying here?” he whispered to his friend.

      Pentaur nodded assent and smiled; but not in triumph, rather in shame; like a boy, who has unintentionally squeezed to death in his hand a bird he has caught.

      Nebsecht looked round astonished and anxious. “Why did you not say who you were?” he asked. “Because the spirit of the God Menth possessed me,” answered Pentaur. “When I saw that accursed villain there with his hand in the girl’s hair, I heard and saw nothing, I—”

      “You did right,” interrupted Nebsecht. “But where will all this end?”

      At this moment a flourish of trumpets rang through the little valley. The officer sent by Ameni to apprehend the paraschites came up with his soldiers.

      Before he entered the court-yard he ordered the crowd to disperse; the refractory were driven away by force, and in a few minutes the valley was cleared of the howling and shouting mob, and the burning house was surrounded by soldiers. Bent-Anat, Rameri, and Nefert were obliged to quit their places by the fence; Rameri, so soon as he saw that Uarda was safe, had rejoined his sister.

      Nefert was almost fainting with fear and excitement. The two servants, who had kept near them, knit their hands together, and thus carried her in advance of the princess. Not one of them spoke a word, not even Rameri, who could not forget Uarda, and the look of gratitude she bid sent after him. Once only Bent-Anat said:

      “The hovel is burnt down. Where will the poor souls sleep to-night?”

      When the valley was clear, the officer entered the yard, and found there, besides Uarda and the witch Hekt, the poet, and Nebsecht, who was engaged in tending the wounded.

      Pentaur shortly narrated the affair to the captain, and named himself to him.

      The soldier offered him his hand.

      “If there were many men in Rameses’ army,” said he, “who could strike such a blow as you, the war with the Cheta would soon be at an end. But you have struck down, not Asiatics, but citizens of Thebes, and, much as I regret it, I must take you as a prisoner to Ameni.”

      “You only do your duty,” replied Pentaur, bowing to the captain, who ordered his men to take up the body of the paraschites, and to bear it to the temple of Seti.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ