Idolatry | Page 6

his eyes, and
a long grin of serried teeth. Coming!--the ugly scaly head is always

nearer and nearer. The boy screams; but who should hear him? He feels
whether the talisman be yet round his neck. He screams again, calling,
in half-delirium, upon his dead mother. Meanwhile the scaly snout is
close upon him.
A many-voiced shout, close at hand; a splashing of poles in the water; a
rippling of eddies against a boat's bows! As the boy drifts by, a
blue-eyed, yellow-bearded viking swings himself from the halyard,
catches him, pulls him aboard with a jerk and a shout, safe! The long
grin snaps emptily together behind him. The boy lies on the deck, a
vision of people with leg-coverings and other oddities of costume
swimming in his eyes; one of them supports his head on his knee, and
bends over him a round, good-natured, spectacled face. Above, a
beautiful flag, striped and starred with white, blue, and red, flaps
indolently against the mast.--
Precisely at this point the sleeper stirs his hand slightly, but enough to
throw the record of several succeeding years into uncertainty and
confusion. Here and there, however, we catch imperfect glimpses of the
Egyptian lad, steadily growing up to be a tall young man. He is dressed
in European clothes, and lives and moves amid civilized surroundings:
Egypt, with her pyramids, palms, and river, we see no more. The
priest's son seems now to be immersed in studies; he shows a genius for
music and painting, and is diligently storing his mind with other than
Egyptian lore. With him, or never far away, we meet a man
considerably older than the student,--good-natured, whimsical, round of
head and face and insignificant of feature. Towards him does the
student observe the profoundest deference, bowing before him, and
addressing him as "Master Hiero," or "Master Glyphic." Master Hiero,
for his part, calls the Egyptian "Manetho"; from which we might infer
his descent from the celebrated historian of that name, but will not
insist upon this genealogy. As for the studies, from certain signs we
fancy them tending towards theology; the descendant of Egyptian
priests is to become a Christian clergyman! Nevertheless, he still wears
his talismanic ring. Does he believe it saved him from the crocodile?
Does his Christian enlightenment not set him free from such
superstition?

So much we piece together from detached glimpses; but now, as the
magic ray steadies once more, things become again distinct. Judging
from the style and appointments of Master Hiero Glyphic's house, he is
a wealthy man, and eccentric as well. It is full of strange incongruities
and discords; beauties in abundance, but ill harmonized. One half the
house is built like an Egyptian temple, and is enriched with many spoils
from the valley of the Nile; and here a secret chamber is set apart for
Manetho; its very existence is known to no one save himself and
Master Hiero. He spends much of his time here, meditating and
working amidst his books and papers, playing on his violin, or leaning
idly back in his chair, watching the sunlight, through the horizontal
aperture high above, his head, creep stealthily across the opposite wall.
But these saintly and scholarly reveries are disturbed anon. Master
Hiero, though a bachelor, has a half-sister, a pale, handsome, indolent
young woman, with dark hair and eyes, and a rather haughty manner.
Helen appears, and thenceforth the household lives and breathes
according to her languid bidding. Manetho comes out of his retirement,
and dances reverential attendance upon her. He is twenty-five years old,
now; tall, slender, and far from ill-looking, with his dark, narrow eyes,
wide brows, and tapering face. His manners are gentle, subdued,
insinuating, and altogether he seems to please Helen; she condescends
to him,--more than condescends, perhaps. Meantime, alas! there is a
secret opposition in progress, embodied in the shapely person of that
bright-eyed gypsy of a girl whom her mistress Helen calls Salome.
There is no question as to Salome's complete subjection to the
attractions of the young embryo clergyman; she pursues him with eyes
and heart, and seeing him by Helen's side, she is miserably but dumbly
jealous.
How is this matter to end? Manetho's devotion to Helen seems
unwavering; yet sometimes it is hard not to suspect a secret
understanding between him and Salome. He has ceased to wear his ring,
and once we caught a diamond-sparkle from beneath the thick folds of
lace which cover Helen's bosom; but, on the other hand, we fear his
arm has been round the gypsy's graceful waist, and that she has learnt
the secret of the private chamber. Is demure Manetho a flirt, or do his

affections and his ambition run counter to each other? Helen would
bring him the riches of this world,--but what should