Three Novels of Ancient Egypt

Yet he would not let them leave. Frustrated, one of them, searching for a moment of inattention, saw her chance and leapt upon him like a lioness, clinging to his leg and biting him on the thigh. Then they all jumped upon him, holding onto his other leg and restraining him by force. He began to resist them calmly without really defending himself, but was unable to move and saw — and the sight nearly drove him mad — the lovely peasant girl running toward the end of the field like a fleeing gazelle. He called out to her begging for her help, but lost his balance and fell upon the grass, while the others still clung to him, not letting go until they — were sure that their mistress had disappeared. He stood up, agitated and angry, and ran in the direction that she had gone — yet saw nothing but emptiness. He returned, despondent, but hoping to find her by following her companions. Yet they outsmarted him, refusing to budge from their places.

“Stay or go now as you wish,” one of them said mockingly.

“Perhaps, soldier boy, this is your first defeat,” said another, maliciously.

“The battle is not finished yet,” he answered in utter pique. “I'll follow you even if you go to Thebes.”

But the one — who first bit him said, “We will spend our night here.”

17

The next month that he spent in the academy — was the longest and crudest of all. At first he was in great pain over his sullied honor and pride, asking himself wrathfully, “How could I have suffered such a setback? What do I lack in youth, good looks, strength, or wealth?” He would gaze a long time into the mirror and mutter, “What's wrong with me?” What, indeed, had driven the gorgeous creature away from him? What had brought down insult after insult upon him? Why had she fled from him as though he were a leper? But then his intense desire to pursue her and capture her would return, and he would wonder, if he persisted in wooing her day after day, would he be able to curb her defiance and win her heart? What girl can be cruel forever? But this came to him while he was a prisoner for a month behind those huge walls that could withstand any siege.

Despite all this, he remained under her spell, her portrait never leaving his vest; he gave it all his attention whenever he found himself alone. “Do you see who this enchanting tyrant is?” he thought to himself. “A little peasant girl? Incredible… and what peasant girl has such luminous, magical eyes? And where was the modesty of the peasant in her arrogance and her stubbornness? And where was the peasant's simplicity in her biting sarcasm and her resounding scorn?” If he had surprised a true peasant girl that way, perhaps she would have run away — or surrendered contentedly — but that is hardly what happened here! Could he ever forget her sitting there among her companions like a princess with her servants and ladies-in-waiting? And could he ever forget how they defended her from him, as though unto death? And would he ever forget how they stayed with him — after her flight — not running away, afraid that he would follow them to her? Instead, they resigned themselves to the cold and dark. Would they have done all those things for a peasant girl like themselves? Perhaps she was from the rural aristocracy — if only she was. Then Nafa could not taunt him again that he was likely to fall in a broken-down hut. If only he had succeeded with her, so that he could tell Nafa about it. What a pity!

Be all that as it may, the month that he imagined would never end, finally did. He left the academy as one would leave a fearful prison, and went to the house with a pent-up yearning for something other than his family. He met them with a joy not equal to theirs, and sat among them with an absent heart. Nor did he notice the stiffness and listlessness that had come over Gamurka, as he waited with an empty patience, when minutes seemed like months. Finally, he made off for the pure place of Apis where his eyes would seek out the beloved face.

This was the month of Barmuda — the air was humid and mild, taking from the cold a pinch of its freshness, and from the heat a lively breath that stirred playfulness and passion. The sky was tinted a delicate, translucent white, a pale blue gleaming beyond.

He looked tenderly at the dear spot, and asked himself, “Where is the peasant girl with the bewitching eyes?” Would she remember him? Was she still angry with him? And was his desire still so daunting for her? Could it be that his love would find an echo within her?

The empty place did not reply, the rocks were deaf to his call — and a spirit of pessimism, longing, and solitude possessed him.

And time — first hope tempted him to believe that there was still enough for her to appear, so it passed slowly and heavily. Then despair made him imagine that she had already come and gone, and time flew like an arrow, while the sun seemed to be riding a speedy chariot racing off into the western horizon.