Serapis

Serapis, Complete, by Georg
Ebers

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Title: Serapis, Complete
Author: Georg Ebers
Release Date: October 17, 2006 [EBook #5507]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Produced by David Widger

SERAPIS, Complete
By Georg Ebers
Volume 1.

Translated from the German by Clara Bell

SERAPIS.
CHAPTER I.
The busy turmoil of the town had been hushed for some hours; the
moon and stars were keeping silent watch over Alexandria, and many
of the inhabitants were already in the land of dreams. It was deliciously
fresh--a truly gracious night; but, though peace reigned in the streets
and alleys, even now there was in this pause for rest a lack of the
soothing calm which refreshes and renews the spirit of man. For some
few weeks there had been an oppressive and fevered tension in the
repose of night. Every house and shop was closed as securely as though
it were done, not only to secure slumber against intrusion, but to protect
life and property from the spoiler; and instead of tones of jollity and
mirth the sleeping city echoed the heavy steps and ringing arms of
soldiers. Now and again, when the Roman word of command or the
excited cry of some sleepless monk broke the silence, shops and doors
were cautiously opened and an anxious face peered out, while belated
wanderers shrunk into gateways or under the black shadow of a wall as
the watch came past. A mysterious burden weighed on the Heart of the
busy city and clicked its pulses, as a nightmare oppresses the dreamer.
On this night of the year of our Lord 391, in a narrow street leading
from the commercial harbor known as Kibotus, an old man was
slinking along close to the houses. His clothes were plain but decent,
and he walked with his head bent forward looking anxiously on all
sides; when the patrol came by he shrank into the shadow; though he
was no thief he had his reasons for keeping out of the way of the
soldiery, for the inhabitants, whether natives or strangers, were
forbidden to appear in the streets after the harbor was closed for the
night.
He stopped in front of a large house, whose long, windowless wall
extended from one side street to the next, and pausing before the great

gate, he read an inscription on which the light fell from a lamp above:
"The House of the Holy Martyr. His widow here offers shelter to all
who need it. He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord."
"At how much per cent I wonder?" mattered the old man and a satirical
smile curled his bearuless lips. A heavy thud with the knocker rang
through the silent street, and after a few short questions from within
and equally curt replies from without, a small door was opened in the
great gate. The stranger was on the point of crossing the vestibule when
a human creature crept up to him on all fours, and clutched his ancle
with a strong hand, exclaiming in a hoarse voice: "As soon as the door
is shut--an entrance fee; for the poor, you know."
The old man flung a copper piece to the gatekeeper who tried it, and
then, holding on to the rope by which he was tied to a post like a
watch-dog, he whined out "Not a drop to wet a Christian's lips?"
"It has not rained for some time," retorted the stranger, who proceeded
to open a second door which led into a vast court-yard open to the blue
vault of heaven. A few torches stuck against the pillars and a small fire
on the pavement added thin smoky, flickering light to the clear glory of
the stars, and the whole quadrangle was full of a heavy, reeking
atmosphere, compounded of smoke and the steam of hot food.
Even in the street the wanderer had heard the dull buzz and roar which
now met his ear as a loud medley of noises and voices, rising from
hundreds of men who were encamped in the wide space before him--in
groups or singly, sleeping and snoring, or quarrelling, eating, talking
and singing as they squatted on the ground which was strewn with
straw.
The inn was full, and more than half of the humble guests were monks
who, during the last two days, had flowed into the city from every
Cenoby, Laura and