The Bride of the Nile — Complete by Georg Ebers (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📖

to her saying: “We knew you had a grate ful heart. But you see...” and she interrupted herself to ask in an altered voice:

“Do you believe in a God? or stay—do you know what a sacred oath is? Can you swear solemnly? Yes, yes...” and drawing herself up as tall as possible she went on very seriously: “Swear by your bride Mandane—as truly as you believe that she loves you....”

“But, sweet soul....”

“Swear that you will never betray to a living soul what I am going to say—not even to Mother Joanna and Pulcheria; no, nor even to your Mandane, unless you find you cannot help it and she gives her sacred word....”

“What is it? You quite frighten me! What am I to swear?”

“Not to reveal what I am now going to tell you.”

“Yes, yes, little Mistress; I can promise you that.” Mary sighed, a long-drawn “Ah...!” and told him that a trustworthy messenger must be found to go forth to meet Amru, so as to be in time to save Paula. Then came the question whether he knew the road over the hills from Babylon to the ancient town of Berenice; and when he replied that he had lately travelled that way, and that it was the shortest road to the sea for Djidda and Medina, she repeated her satisfied “Ah!” took his hand, and went on with coaxing but emphatic entreaty while she played with his big fingers: “And now, best and kindest Rustem, in all Memphis there is but one really trusty messenger; but he, you see, is betrothed, and so he would rather get married and go home with his bride than help us to save the life of poor Paula.”

“The cur!” growled the Persian.

At this Mary laughed out: “Yes, the cur!” and went on gaily: “But you are abusing yourself, you stupid Rustem. You, you are the messenger I mean, the only faithful and trustworthy one far or near. You, you must meet the governor....”

“I!” said the man, and he stood still with amazement; but Mary pulled him onward, saying: “But come on, or the others will notice something.—Yes, you, you must....”

“But child, child,” interrupted Rustem lamentably,

“I must go back to my master; and you see, common right and justice....”

“You do not choose to leave your sweetheart; not even if the kind creature who watched over you day and night should die for it—die the most cruel and horrible death! You were ready enough to call that other, as you supposed, a cur—that other whom no one nursed till he was well again; but as for yourself....”

“Have patience then! Hear me, little Mistress!” Rustem broke in again, and pulled away his hand. “I am quite willing to wait and Mandane must just submit. But one man is not good for all tasks. To ride, or guide a train of merchandise, to keep the cameldrivers in order, to pitch a camp—-all that I can do; but to parley with grand folks, to go straight up to such a man as the great chief Amru with prayers and supplications—all that, you see, sweetheart—even if it were to save my own father, that would be....”

“But who asks you to do all that?” said the child. “You may stand as mute as a fish: it will be your companion’s business to do the talking.”

“There is to be another one then? But, great Masdak! I hope that will be enough at any rate!”

“Why will you constantly interrupt me?” the little girl put in. “Listen first and raise objections after wards. The second messenger—now open your ears wide—it is I, I myself;—but if you stand still again, you will really betray me. The long and short of it is, that as surely as I mean to save Paula, I mean to go forth to meet Amru, and if you refuse to go with me I will set out alone and try whether Gibbus the hunchback....”

Rustem had needed some time to collect his senses after this stupendous surprise, but now he exclaimed: “You—you—to Berenice, and over the mountains....”

“Yes, over the mountains,” she repeated, “and if need be, through the clouds.”

“But such a thing was never heard of, never heard of on this earth!” the Persian remonstrated. “A girl, a little lady like you—a messenger, and all alone with a clumsy fellow like me. No, no, no!”

“And again no, and a hundred times over no!” cried the child merrily. “The little lady will stop at home and you will take a boy with you—a boy called Marius, not Mary.”

“A boy! But I thought.—It is enough to puzzle one....”

“A boy who is a girl and a boy in one,” laughed Mary. “But if you must have it in plain words: I shall dress up as a boy to go with you; to-morrow when we set out you will see, you will take me for my own brother.”

“Your own brother! With a little face like yours! Then the most impossible things will become possible,” cried Rustem laughing, and he looked down good humoredly at the little girl. But suddenly the preposterousness of her scheme rose again before his mind, and he exclaimed half-frantically: “But then my master!—It will not do—It will never do!”

“It is for his sake that you will do us this service,” said Mary confidently. “He is Paula’s friend and protector; and when he hears what you have done for her he will praise you, while if you leave us in the lurch I am quite sure...”

“Well?”

“That he will say: ‘I thought Rustem was a shrewder man and had a better heart.’”

“You really think he will say that?”

“As surely as our house stands before us!—Well, we have no time for any more discussion, so it is settled: we start together. Let me find you in the garden early to-morrow morning. You must tell your Mandane that you are called away by important business.”

“And Dame Joanna?” asked the Persian, and his voice was grave and anxious as he went on: “The thing I like least, child, is that you should not ask her, and take her into your confidence.”

“But she will hear all about it, only not immediately,” replied Mary. “And the day after to-morrow, when she knows what I have gone off for and that you are with me, she will praise us and bless us; yes, she will, as surely as I hope that the Almighty will succor us in our journey!”

At these words, which evidently came from the very depths of her heart, the Masdakite’s resistance altogether gave way—just in time, for their walk was at an end, and they both felt as though the long distance had been covered by quite a few steps. They had passed close to several groups of noisy and quarrelsome citizens, and many a funeral train had borne the plague-stricken dead to the grave by torchlight under their very eyes, but they had heeded none of these things.

It was not