The Yoke | Page 7

urge thee," he continued with an
unnatural steadiness. "Thou canst accept of me the safety of marriage.
Nothing more shall I offer--or demand."
The color rushed over the girl's face, but he went on evenly.
"A part go to Silsilis, another to Syene, a third to Masaarah. If thine
insulter asks concerning thy whereabouts I shall not trouble myself to
remember. But what shall keep him from searching for thee--and are
there any like to defend thee, if he find thee, seeing I am not there? And
even if thou art securely hidden, thou hast never dreamed how heavy is
the life of the stone-pits, Rachel."
"Keep Deborah here," the girl besought him, distressed. "She is old and
will perish--"
"Nay, I will not send thee out alone," was the reply. "If thou goest, so
must she. But--hast thou no fear?"
Once again she shook her head.
"I trust to the triumph of the good," she replied earnestly.
The sound of the scribe's approach behind him, moved him on.
"Farewell," he said as he went, and added no more, for his composure
failed him.
"The grace of the Lord God attend thee," she whispered. "Farewell."
All the morning the work went on, and when the Egyptian mid-winter
noon lay warm on the flat country, three hundred Israelites were ready
for the long march to the Nile. They left behind them a camp oppressed
with that heart-soreness, which affliction added to old afflictions
brings,--the numb ache of sorrow, not its lively pain. Only Deborah, the
childless, and Rachel, the motherless, went with lighter hearts,--if
hearts can be light that go forward to meet the unknown fortunes of

bond-people.
As they moved out, one of the older Hebrews in the forward ranks
began to sing, in a wild recitative chant, of Canaan and the freedom of
Israel. The elders in the line near him took it up and every face in the
long column lighted and was lifted in silent concord with the singers.
Atsu in his chariot, close by, scanned his lists absorbedly, but one of
the drivers hurried forward with a demand for silence. A young Hebrew,
who had tramped in agitated silence just ahead, worked up into
recklessness by the fervor of the singers, defied him. His voice rang
clear above the song.
"Go to, thou bald-faced idolater! Israel will cease to do thy bidding one
near day."
The driver forced his way into the front ranks and began to lay about
him with his knout. Instantly he was cast forth by a dozen brawny
arms.
"Mutiny!" he bawled.
A group of drivers reinforced him at once.
"By Bast," the foremost cried, as he came running. "The sedition of the
renegade, Mesu,[1] bears early fruit!"
But the spirit of rebellion became contagious and the men of Israel
began to throw themselves out of line. At this moment, Atsu seemed to
become conscious of the riot and drove his horses between the
combatants.
"Into ranks with you!" he commanded, pressing forward upon the
Hebrews. The men obeyed sullenly.
"I have said there was to be no use of the knouts," he said sharply,
turning upon the drivers. "Forward with them!"
The first driver muttered.

"What sayest thou?" Atsu demanded.
The man's mouth opened and closed, and his eyes drew up, evilly, but
he made no answer.
"Forward with them," Atsu repeated, without removing his gaze from
the driver.
Slowly, and now silently, the hereditary slaves of the Pharaoh moved
out of Pa-Ramesu. And of all the departing numbers and of all that
remained behind, none was more stricken in heart than Atsu, the stern
taskmaster over Israel.
[1] Moses.
CHAPTER II
UNDER BAN OF THE RITUAL
Holy Memphis, city of Apis, habitat of Ptah!
Not idly was she called Menefer, the Good Place. Not anywhere in
Egypt were the winds more gentle, the heavens more benign, the
environs more august.
To the south and west of her, the Libyan hills notched the horizon. To
the east the bald summits of the Arabian desert cut off the traveling
sand in its march on the capital. To the north was a shimmering level
that stretched unbroken to the sea. Set upon this at mid-distance, the
pyramids uplifted their stupendous forms. In the afternoon they
assumed the blue of the atmosphere and appeared indistinct, but in the
morning the polished sides that faced the east reflected the sun's rays in
dazzling sheets across the valley.
Out of a crevice between the heights to the south the broad blue Nile
rolled, sweeping past one hundred and twenty stadia or sixteen miles of
urban magnificence, and lost itself in the shimmering sky-line to the
north.

The city was walled on the north, west, and south, and its river-front
was protected by a mighty dike, built by Menes, the