Uarda | Page 6

erected by Seti I., the deceased father of the
reigning King Rameses II.
[The two pyramidal towers joined by a gateway which formed the
entrance to an Egyptian temple were called the Pylon.]
The moon was up, and her pale light flooded the stately structure, while
the walls glowed with the ruddy smoky light of the torches which
flared in the hands of black attendants.
A man of sturdy build, in sumptuous dress, was knocking at the brass-
covered temple door with the metal handle of a whip, so violently that
the blows rang far and loud through the night. Near him stood a litter,
and a chariot, to which were harnessed two fine horses. In the litter sat
a young woman, and in the carriage, next to the driver, was the tall
figure of a lady. Several men of the upper classes and many servants
stood around the litter and the chariot. Few words were exchanged; the
whole attention of the strangely lighted groups seemed concentrated on
the temple-gate. The darkness concealed the features of individuals, but
the mingled light of the moon and the torches was enough to reveal to
the gate-keeper, who looked down on the party from a tower of the
Pylon, that it was composed of persons of the highest rank; nay,
perhaps of the royal family.
He called aloud to the one who knocked, and asked him what was his
will.
He looked up, and in a voice so rough and imperious, that the lady in
the litter shrank in horror as its tones suddenly violated the place of the
dead, he cried out--"How long are we to wait here for you--you dirty
hound? Come down and open the door and then ask questions. If the
torch-light is not bright enough to show you who is waiting, I will score

our name on your shoulders with my whip, and teach you how to
receive princely visitors."
While the porter muttered an unintelligible answer and came down the
steps within to open the door, the lady in the chariot turned to her
impatient companion and said in a pleasant but yet decided voice, "You
forget, Paaker, that you are back again in Egypt, and that here you have
to deal not with the wild Schasu,--[A Semitic race of robbers in the cast
of Egypt.]--but with friendly priests of whom we have to solicit a favor.
We have always had to lament your roughness, which seems to me very
ill- suited to the unusual circumstances under which we approach this
sanctuary."
Although these words were spoken in a tone rather of regret than of
blame, they wounded the sensibilities of the person addressed; his wide
nostrils began to twitch ominously, he clenched his right hand over the
handle of his whip, and, while he seemed to be bowing humbly, he
struck such a heavy blow on the bare leg of a slave who was standing
near to him, an old Ethiopian, that he shuddered as if from sudden cold,
though- knowing his lord only too well--he let no cry of pain escape
him. Meanwhile the gate-keeper had opened the door, and with him a
tall young priest stepped out into the open air to ask the will of the
intruders.
Paaker would have seized the opportunity of speaking, but the lady in
the chariot interposed and said:
"I am Bent-Anat, the daughter of the King, and this lady in the litter is
Nefert, the wife of the noble Mena, the charioteer of my father. We
were going in company with these gentlemen to the north-west valley
of the Necropolis to see the new works there. You know the narrow
pass in the rocks which leads up the gorge. On the way home I myself
held the reins and I had the misfortune to drive over a girl who sat by
the road with a basket full of flowers, and to hurt her--to hurt her very
badly I am afraid. The wife of Mena with her own hands bound up the
child, and then she carried her to her father's house--he is a
paraschites--[One who opened the bodies of the dead to prepare them
for being embalmed.]-- Pinem is his name. I know not whether he is

known to you."
"Thou hast been into his house, Princess?"
"Indeed, I was obliged, holy father," she replied, "I know of course that
I have defiled myself by crossing the threshold of these people, but--"
"But," cried the wife of Mena, raising herself in her litter, "Bent-Anat
can in a day be purified by thee or by her house-priest, while she can
hardly--or perhaps never--restore the child whole and sound again to
the unhappy father."
"Still, the den of a paraschites is above every thing unclean," said the
chamberlain Penbesa, master of