CHAPTER IX.
Philippus started up from the divan on which he had been reclining atbreakfast with his old friend. Before Horapollo was a half-empty plate;he had swallowed his meal less rapidly than his companion, and lookeddisapprovingly at the leech, who drank off his wine and water as hestood, whereas he generally would sit and enjoy it as he talked to theold man of matters light or grave. To the elder this was always thepleasantest hour of the day; but now Philippus would hardly allowhimself more than just time enough to eat, even at their principalevening meal.
Indeed, not he alone, but every physician in the city, had as much as hecould do with the utmost exertion. Nearly three weeks had elapsedsince the attack on the nuns, and the fearful heat had still gone onin creasing. The river, instead of rising had sunk lower and lower;the carrier-pigeons from Ethiopia, looked for day by day with growinganxiety and excitement, brought no news of a rising stream even in theupper Nile, and the shallow, stagnant and evil-smelling waters by thebanks began to be injurious, nay, fatal, to the health of the wholepopulation.
Close to the shore, especially, the water had a reddish tinge, and theusually sweet, pure fluid in the canals was full of strange vegetablegrowths and other foreign bodies putrid and undrinkable. The commonpeople usually shirked the trouble of filtering it, and it was amongthem that the greater number died of a mortal and infectious pestilence,till then unknown. The number of victims swelled daily, and the approachof the comet kept pace with the growing misery of the town. Every oneconnected it with the intense heat of the season, with the delay in theinundation, and the appearance of the sickness; and the leech and hisfriend often argued about these matters, for Philippus would not admitthat the meteor had any influence on human affairs, while Horapollobelieved that it had, and supported his view by a long series ofexamples.
His antagonist would not accept them and asked for arguments; at thesame time he, like every one else, felt the influence of a vague dreadof some imminent and terrible disaster hanging over the earth andhumanity at large.
And, just as every heart in Memphis felt oppressed by such forebodings,and by the weight of a calamity, which indeed no longer threatened thembut had actually come upon them, so the roads, the gardens, the palmsand sycamores by the way-side were covered by thick layers of dingy,choking dust. The hedges of tamarisk and shrubs looked like decayingwalls of colorless, unburnt mud-bricks; even in the high-roads thewayfarer walked in the midst of dense white clouds raised by his feet,and if a chariot, or a horseman galloped down the scorching street,fine, grey sand at once filled the air, compelling the foot-passengersto shut their eyes and lips.
The town was so silent, so empty, so deserted! No one came out of doorsunless under pressure of business or piety. Every house was a furnace,and even a bath brought no refreshment, for the water had long sinceceased to be cold. A disease had also attacked the ripening dates asthey hung; they dropped off in thousands from the heavy clusters underthe beautiful bending crown of leaves; and now for two days hundredsof dead fish had been left on the banks. Even the scaly natives of theriver were plague-stricken; and the physician explained to his friendthat this brought the inhabitants a fresh danger; for who could clearthe shores of the dead fish?--And, in such heat, how soon they wouldbecome putrid!
The old man did not conceal from himself that it was hard, cruelly hard,for the physician to follow his calling conscientiously at such a time;but he knew his friend; he had seen him during months of pestilence twoyears since--always brisk, decisive and gay, indeed inspired to greatereffort by the greater demands on him. What had so completely alteredhim, had poisoned and vexed his soul as with a malignant spell? It wasnot the almost superhuman sacrifices required by his duties;--it cameof the unfortunate infatuation of his heart, of which he could not ridhimself.
Philippus had kept his promise. He went every day to the house ofRufinus, and every day he saw Paula; but, as a murdered body bleedsafresh in the presence of the assassin, so every day the old painrevived when he was forced to meet her and speak with her. The only curefor this particular sufferer was to remove the cause of his pain: thatis to say, to take Paula away out of his path; and this the old man madehis care and duty.
Little Mary and the other patients under Rufinus' roof were on the wayto recovery; still there was much to cast gloomy shadows over this happytermination. Joanna and Pulcheria were very anxious as to the fateof Rufinus. No news had been received of him or of the sisters, andPhilippus was the vessel into which the forsaken wife and Pulcheria--wholooked up to him as to a kind, faithful, and all-powerful protectingspirit-poured all their sorrows, cares, and fears. Their forebodingswere aggravated by the fact that three times Arab officials had cometo the house to enquire about the master and his continued absence. Allthat the women told them was written down, and Dame Joanna, whose lipshad never yet uttered a lie, had found herself forced to give a falseclue by saying that her husband had gone to Alexandria on business,and might perhaps have to proceed to Syria.--What could these enquiriesforebode? Did they not indicate that Rufinus' complicity in the rescueof the nuns was known at Fostat?
The authorities there were, in fact, better informed than the womencould suspect. But they kept their knowledge a secret, for it wouldnever do to let the oppressed people know that a handful of Egyptianshad succeeded in defeating a party of Arab soldiers; so the Memphitesheard no more than a dark rumor of what had occurred.
Philippus had known nothing of the old man's purpose till he had gonetoo far to be dissuaded; and it was misery to him now to reflect thathis dear old friend, and his whole household, might come to ruin forthe sake of the sisterhood who were nothing to them; for he had receivedprivate information that there had been a skirmish between the Moslemsand the deliverers of the nuns, which had cost the lives of severalcombatants on both sides.
And Paula! If only he could have seen her happy--But she was pale;and that which robbed the young girl--healthy as she was in mind andbody--of her proud, frank, independent bearing was not the heat, whichtormented all creation, but a secret, devouring sorrow; and this sorrowwas the work of one alone--of him on whom she had set her heart, and whomade, ah! what a return, for the royal gift of her love.
Philippus had frequent business at the governor's residence, and afortnight since he had plainly perceived what it was that had broughtNeforis into this strange state. She was taking the opium that herhusband had had, taking it in excessive quantities; and she could easilyprocure more through some other physician. However, her piteous prayerthat Philippus would not abandon her to her fate had prevailed to inducehim to continue to see her, in the hope of possibly restricting her useof the drug.
The senator's wife, Martina, also required his visits to the palace. Shewas not actually ill, but she suffered cruelly from the heat, and shehad always been wont to see her worthy old house-physician every day,to hear all the latest gossip, and complain of her little ailments whenanything went wrong with her usually sound health. Philippus was indeedtoo much overburdened to chatter, but his professional advice was goodand helped her to endure the fires of this pitiless sky. She liked thisincisive, shrewd, plain-spoken man--often indeed sharp and abrupt inhis freedom--and he appreciated her bright, natural ways. Now and thenMartina even succeeded in winning a smile from "Hermes Trismegistus,"who was "generally as solemn as though there was no such thing on earthas a jest," and in spurring him to a rejoinder which showed that thisdolorous being had a particularly keen and ready wit.
Heliodora attracted him but little. There was, to be sure, anunmistakable likeness in her "imploring eyes" to those of Pulcheria; butthe girl's spoke fervent yearning for the grace and love of God, whilethe widow's expressed an eager desire for the admiration of the men shepreferred. She was a graceful creature beyond all question, but suchsoftness, which never even attempted to assert a purpose or an opinion,did not commend itself to his determined nature; it annoyed him, when hehad contradicted her, to hear her repeat his last statement and take hisside, as if she were ashame
d of her own silliness. Her society, indeed,did not seem to satisfy the clever older woman, who at home, wasaccustomed to a succession of visitors, and to whom the word "evening"was synonymous with lively conversation and a large gathering. She spokeof the leech's visits as the oasis in the Egyptian desert, and littleKatharina even she regarded as a Godsend.
The water-wagtail was her daily visitant, and the girl's gay andoften spiteful gossip helped to beguile her during this terrific heat.Katharina's mother made no difficulties; for Heliodora had gone tosee her in all her magnificence, and had offered her and her daughterhospitality, some day, at Constantinople. They were very likely goingthither; at any rate they would not remain in Memphis, and then itwould be a piece of good fortune to be introduced to the society of thecapital by such people as their new acquaintances.
Martina thus heard a great deal about Paula; and though it was alladverse and colored to her prejudice she would have liked to see thedaughter of the great and famous Thomas whom she had known; besides,after all she had heard, she could fear nothing from Paula for herniece: uncommonly handsome, but haughty, repellent, unamiable, and--likeHeliodora herself--of the orthodox sect.--What could tempt "greatSesostris" to give her the preference?
Katharina herself proposed to Martina to make them acquainted; butnothing would have induced Dame Martina to go out of her rooms,protected to the utmost from the torrid sunshine, so she left it toHeliodora to pay the visit and give her a report of the hero's daughter.Heliodora had devoted herself heart and soul to the little heiress, andhumored her on many points.
This was carried out. Katharina actually had the audacity to bring therivals together, even after she had reported to each all she knew ofOrion's position with regard to the other. It was exquisite sport;still, in one respect it did not fulfil her intentions, for Paula gaveno sign of suffering the agonies of jealousy which Katharina had hopedto excite in her. Heliodora, on the other hand, came home depressed anduneasy; Paula had received her coldly and with polite formality, and theyoung widow had remained fully aware that so remarkable a woman mightwell cast her own image in Orion's heart into the shade, or supplant italtogether.
Like a wounded man who, in spite of the anguish, cannot resist touchingthe wound to assure himself of its state, Heliodora went constantly tosee Katharina in order to watch her rival from the garden or to be takento call on her, though she was always very coldly received.
At first Katharina had pitied the young woman whose superior inintelligence she knew herself to be; but a certain incident hadextinguished this feeling; she now simply hated her, and prickedher with needle-thrusts whenever she had a chance. Paula seemedinvulnerable; but there was not a pang which Katharina would not gladlyhave given her to whom she owed the deepest humiliation her young lifehad ever known. How was it that Paula failed to regard Heliodora as arival? She had reflected that, if Orion had really returned the widow'spassion, he could not have borne so long a separation. It was on purposeto avoid Heliodora, and to remain faithful to what he was and mustalways be to Paula, that he had gone with the senator, far from Memphis.Heliodora--her instinct assured her--was the poor, forsaken woman withwhom he had trifled at Byzantium, and for whom he had committed thatfatal theft of the emerald. If Fate would but bring him home to her, andif she then yielded all he asked--all her own soul urged her to grant,then she would be the sole mistress and queen of his heart--she must be,she was sure of it! And though, even as she thought of it, she bowedher head in care, it was not from fear of losing him; it was only heranxiety about her father, her good old friend, Rufinus, and his family,whom she had made so entirely her own.
This was the state of affairs this morning, when to his old friend'svexation, Philippus had so hastily and silently drunk off hisafter-breakfast draught; just as he set down the cup, the blackdoor-keeper announced that a hump-backed man wished to see his master atonce on important business.
"Important business!" repeated the leech. "Give me four more legs inaddition to my own two, or a machine to make time longer than it is, andthen I will take new patients-otherwise no! Tell the fellow...."
"No, not sick...." interrupted the negro. "Come long way. Gardener toGreek man Rufinus."
Philippus started: he could guess what this messenger had to say, andhis heart sank with dread as he desired that he might be shown in.
A glance at Gibbus told him what he had rightly feared. The poor fellowwas hardly recognizable. He was coated with dust from head to foot, andthis made him look like a grey-haired old man; his sandals hung to hisfeet in strips; the sweat, pouring down his cheeks, had made gutters asit were in the dust on his face, and his tears, as the physician heldout his hand to him, washed out other channels.
In reply to the leech's anxious, long drawn "Dead?" he nodded silently;and when Philippus, clasping his hands to his temples, cried out: "Dead!My poor old Rufinus dead! But how, in Heaven's name, did it happen?Speak, man, speak!"--Gibbus pointed to the old philosopher and said:"Come out then, with me, Master. No third person...."
Philippus, however, gave him to understand that Horapollo was his secondself; and the hunch-back went on to tell him what he had seen, andhow his beloved master had met his end. Horapollo sat listening inastonishment, shaking his head disapprovingly, while the physicianmuttered curses. But the bearer of evil tidings was not interrupted, andit was not till he had ended that Philippus, with bowed head and tearfuleyes, said:
"Poor, faithful old man; to think that he should die thus--he who leavesbehind him all that is best in life, while I--I...." And he groanedaloud. The old man glanced at him with reproachful displeasure.
While the leech broke the seals of the tablets, which the abbess hadcarefully closed, and began to read the contents, Horapollo asked thegardener: "And the nuns? Did they all escape?"
"Yes, Master! on the morning after we reached Doomiat, a trireme tookthem all out to sea."
And the old man grumbled to himself: "The working bees killed and theDrones saved!"
Gibbus, however, contradicted him, praising the laborious and usefullife of the sisters, in whose care he himself had once been.
Meanwhile Philippus had read his friend's last letter. Greatly disturbedby it he turned hither and thither, paced the room with long steps, andfinally paused in front of the gardener, exclaiming: "And what next? Whois to tell them the news?"
"You," replied Gibbus, raising his hands in entreaty.
"I-oh, of course, I!" growled the physician. "Whatever is difficult,painful, intolerable, falls on my shoulders as a matter of course! ButI cannot--ought not--I will not do it. Had I any part or lot in devisingthis mad expedition? You observe, Father?--What he, the simpleton,brewed, I--I again am to drink. Fate has settled that!"
"It is hard, it is hard, child!" replied the old man. "Still, it is yourduty. Only consider--if that man, as he stands before us now, were toappear before the women...."
But Philippus broke in: "No, no, that would not do! And you,Gibbus--this very day there has been an Arab again to see Joanna; andif they were to suspect that you had been with your master--for you lookstrangely.--No, man; your devotion merits a better reward. They shallnot catch you. I release you from your service to the widow, andwe--what do you say, Father?--we will keep him here."
"Right, very right," said Horapollo. "The Nile must some day riseagain. Stay with us; I have long had a fancy to eat vegetables of my owngrowing."
But Gibbus firmly declined the offer, saying he wished to return to hisold mistress. When the physician again pointed out to him how great adanger he was running into, and the old man desired to know his reasons,the hunch-back exclaimed:
"I promised my master to stay with the women; and now, while in allthe household I am the only free man, shall I leave them unprotectedto secure my own miserable life? Sooner would I see a scimitar at mythroat. When my head is off the rascals are welcome to all that isleft."
The words came hollow and broken from his parched tongue, and as hespoke the faithful fellow's face changed. Even un
der the dust he turnedpale, and Philippus had to support him, for his feet refused theiroffice. His long tramp through the torrid heat had exhausted hisstrength; but a draught of wine soon brought him to himself again andHorapollo ordered the slave to lead him to the kitchen and desire thecook to take the best care of him.
As soon as the friends were alone, the elder observed:
"That worthy, foolhardy, old child who is now dead, seems to have leftyou some strange request. I could see that as you were reading."
"There--take it!" replied Philippus; and again he walked up and down theroom, while Horapollo took the letter. Both faces of the tablets werecovered with irregular, up-and-down lines of writing to the followingeffect:
"Rufinus, in view of death, to his beloved Philippus:
"One shivering fit after another comes over me; I shall certainly die to-day. I must make haste. Writing is difficult. If only I can say what is most pressing.--First: Joanna and the poor child. Be everything you can be to them. Protect them as their guardian, Kyrios, and friend. They have enough to live on and something still to spare for others. My brother Leonax manages the property, and he is honest. Joanna knows all about it.--Tell her and the poor child that I send them ten thousand blessings--and to Joanna endless thanks for all her goodness.--And to you, my friend: heed the old man's words. Rid your heart of Paula. She is not for you: you know, young Orion. But as to yourself: Those who were born in high places rarely suit us, who have dragged ourselves up from below to a better position. Be her friend; that she deserves--but let that be all. Do not live alone, a wife brings all that is best into a man's life; it is she who weaves sweet dreams into his dull sleep. You know nothing of all this as yet; and your worthy old friend--to whom my greetings--has held aloof from it all his life....
"For your private eye: it is a dying man who speaks thus. You must know that my poor child, our Pul, regards you as the most perfect of men and esteems you above all others. You know her and Joanna. Bear witness to your friend that no evil word ever passed the lips of either of them. Far be it from me to advise you, who bear the image of another woman in your heart,--to say: marry the child, she is the wife for you. But this much to you both--Father and son--I do advise you to live with the mother and daughter as true and friendly house-mates. You will none of you repent doing so. This is a dying man's word. I can write no more. You are the women's guardian, Philip, a faithful one I know. A common aim makes men grow alike. You and I, for many a year.--Take good care of them for me; I entreat you--good care."
The last words were separated and written all astray; the old man couldhardly make them out. He now sat looking, as Phillipus had done before,sorely puzzled and undecided over this strange document.
"Well?" asked the leech at last.
"Aye-well?" repeated the other with a shrug. Then both again weresilent; till Horapollo rose, and taking his staff, also paced the roomwhile he murmured, half to himself and half to his younger friend "Theyare two quiet, reasonable women. There are not many of that sort, Ifancy. How the little one helped me up from the low seat in the garden!"It was a reminiscence that made him chuckle to himself; he stoppedPhilippus, who was pacing at his side, by lightly patting his arm,exclaiming with unwonted vivacity: "A man should be ready to tryeverything--the care of women even, before he steps into the grave. Andis it a fact that neither of them is a scold or a chatter-box?"
"It is indeed."
"And what 'if' or 'but' remains behind?" asked the old man. "Let usbe reckless for once, brother! If the whole business were not sodiabolically serious, it would be quite laughable. The young one forme and the old one for you in our leisure hours, my son; better washedlinen; clothes without holes in them; no dust on our books; a pleasant'Rejoice' every morning, or at meal-times;--only look at the fruit onthat dish! No better than the oats they strew before horses. At the oldman's everything was as nice as it used to be in my own home atPhilae: Supper a little work of art, a feast for the eye as well as theappetite! Pulcheria seems to understand all that as well as my poor deadsister did. And then, when I want to rise, such a kind, pretty littlehand to help one up! I have long hated this dwelling. Lime and dustfall from the ceiling in my bedroom, and here there are wide gaps in theflooring-I stumbled over one yesterday--and our niggardly landlords, theofficials, say that if we want anything repaired we may do it ourselves,that they have no money left for such things. Now, under that worthy oldman's roof everything was in the best order." The philosopher chuckledaloud and rubbed his hands as he went on: "Supposing we kick over thetraces for once, Philip. Supposing we were to carry out our friend'sdying wish? Merciful Isis! It would certainly be a good action, andI have not many to boast of. But cautiously--what do you say? We canalways throw it up at a month's notice."
Then he grew grave again, shook his head, and said meditatively: "No,no; such plans only disturb one's peace of mind. A pleasant vision! Butscarcely feasible."
"Not for the present, at any rate," replied the leech.
"So long as Paula's fate remains undecided, I beg you to let the matterrest."
The old man muttered a curse on her; then he said with a vicious, sharpflash in his eyes: "That patrician viper! Every where in everything--shespoils it all! But wait a while! I fancy she will soon be removed fromour path, and then.... No, even now, at the present time, I will notallow that we should be deprived of what would embellish life, of doinga thing which may turn the scale in my favor in the day of judgment. Thewishes of a dying man are sacred: So our fathers held it; and they wereright. The old man's will must be done! Yes, yes, yes. It is settled.As soon as that hindrance is removed, we will keep house with the twowomen. I have said; and I mean it."
At this point the gardener came in again, and the old man called out tohim:
"Listen, man. We shall live together after all; you shall hear more ofthis later. Stay with my people till sundown, but you must keep your owncounsel, for they are all listeners and blabs. The physician here willnow take the melancholy tidings to the unfortunate widow, and then youcan talk it all over with her at night. Nothing startling must takeplace at the house there; and with regard to your master, even his deathmust remain a secret from every one but us and his family."
The gardener knew full well how much depended on his silence; Philippustacitly agreed to the old man's arrangement, but for the present heavoided discussing the matter with the women. When, at length he set offon his painful errand to the widow, Horapollo dismissed him saying:
"Courage, courage, my Son.--And as you pass by, just glance at ourlittle garden;--we grieved to see the fine old palm-tree perish; but nowa young and vigorous shoot is growing from the root."
"It has been drooping since yesterday and will die away," repliedPhilippus shrugging his shoulders.
But the old man exclaimed: "Water it, Gibbus! the palm-tree must bewatered at once."
"Aye, you have water at hand for that!" retorted the leech, but he addedbitterly as he reached the stairs, "If it were so in all cases!"
"Patience and good purpose will always win," murmured the old man; andwhen he was alone he growled on angrily: "Only be rid of that dry oldpalm-tree--his past life in all its relations to that patrician hussyAway with it, into the fire!--But how am I to get her? How can I manageit?"
He threw himself back in his arm-chair, rubbing his forehead with thetips of his fingers. He had come to no result when the negro requestedan audience for some visitors. These were the heads of the senate ofMemphis, who had come as a deputation to ask counsel of the old sage.He, if any one, would find some means of averting or, at any rate,mitigating the fearful calamity impending over the town and country, andagainst which prayer, sacrifice, processions, and pilgrimages had provedabortive. They were quite resolved to leave no means untried, not evenif heathen magic should be the last resource.