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Uarda : a Romance of Ancient Egypt — Complete eBook

Georg Ebers
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 551 pages of information about Uarda .

Pentaur had yielded in silence to the signet of his chief, and returned to the confessional in which he had met Bent-Anat.  He felt his soul shaken to its very foundations, his thoughts were confused, his feelings struggling with each other; he shivered, and when he heard the laughter of the priests and the gatekeeper, who were triumphing in their easy victory, he started and shuddered like a man who in passing a mirror should see a brand of disgrace on his brow.

But by degrees he recovered himself, his spirit grew clearer, and when he left the little room to look towards the east—­where, on the farther shore, rose the palace where Bent-Anat must be—­a deep contempt for his enemies filled his soul, and a proud feeling of renewed manly energy.  He did not conceal from himself that he had enemies; that a time of struggle was beginning for him; but he looked forward to it like a young hero to the morning of his first battle.

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     Bearers of ill ride faster than the messengers of weal
     Do not spoil the future for the sake of the present
     Exhibit one’s happiness in the streets, and conceal one’s misery
     Impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player
     Learn to obey, that later you may know how to command
     Man has nothing harder to endure than uncertainty
     Many creditors are so many allies
     One should give nothing up for lost excepting the dead
     Our thinkers are no heroes, and our heroes are no sages
     Overbusy friends are more damaging than intelligent enemies
     Prepare sorrow when we come into the world
     The experienced love to signify their superiority
     We quarrel with no one more readily than with the benefactor

UARDA

Volume 4.

By Georg Ebers

CHAPTER XV.

The afternoon shadows were already growing long, when a splendid chariot drew up to the gates of the terrace-temple.  Paaker, the chief pioneer, stood up in it, driving his handsome and fiery Syrian horses.  Behind him stood an Ethiopian slave, and his big dog followed the swift team with his tongue out.

As he approached the temple he heard himself called, and checked the pace of his horses.  A tiny man hurried up to him, and, as soon as he had recognized in him the dwarf Nemu, he cried angrily: 

“Is it for you, you rascal, that I stop my drive?  What do you want?”

“To crave,” said the little man, bowing humbly, “that, when thy business in the city of the dead is finished, thou wilt carry me back to Thebes.”

“You are Mena’s dwarf?” asked the pioneer.

“By no means,” replied Nemu.  “I belong to his neglected wife, the lady Nefert.  I can only cover the road very slowly with my little legs, while the hoofs of your horses devour the way-as a crocodile does his prey.”

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