The Egyptian

4

“Is this your house?” I asked her as she sat beside me, surveying me with her hard green eyes.

“This is my house, and these are my guests. I have guests every evening, for I do not care to be alone.”

“And Metufer?” I asked, for I wished to know all, despite the pain it might cause me. She frowned a little.

“Did you not know that Metufer is dead? He died because he misused money Pharaoh had given his father for the building of a temple. Metufer died, and his father is no longer the royal master builder. Did you not know that?”

“If that is true,” I said smiling, “I can almost believe that Ammon punished him, for he mocked the name of Ammon.” I told her how Metufer and the priest had spat in the face of Ammon’s statue to wash it and how they had rubbed themselves with Ammon’s sacred ointment.

She smiled, but her eyes had a hard, distant look in them. Suddenly she said, “Why did you not come to me then, Sinuhe? If you had sought me, you would have found me. You did ill in not coming and in visiting other women with my ring on your finger.”

“I was but a boy and I feared you-but in my dreams you were my sister, Nefernefernefer, and-laugh at me if you will-I have never yet lain with any woman. I have been waiting to see you again.”

She laughed and made a gesture of disbelief.

“You are certainly lying. In your eyes I must seem an ugly old woman, and it diverts you to mock me and lie to me.” Her eyes were gay now as in other days, and she looked so much younger that my heart swelled and ached as I looked at her.

“It is true that I have never touched any woman,” I said, “but it may not be true that I have waited for you. Let me be honest. Very many women have come before me, young and old, pretty and plain, wise and simple; but I have looked upon all alike with the eye of a physician; and not one of them has stirred my heart; though why this should be I cannot tell.”

“Perhaps when you were a little boy you fell from the top of a wagon load and landed astride the shaft, so that ever since then you have been melancholy and happier alone”; and, as she laughed, she touched me lightly as no woman had ever touched me. Reply was needless, for she knew herself that what she said was untrue. She quickly withdrew her hand, whispering: “Let us drink wine together. I may yet take my pleasure with you, Sinuhe.”

We drank wine while the slaves carried some of the guests out to their chairs, and Horemheb put his arm about the woman beside him, calling her his sister. He took the gold chain from his neck and would have hung it about hers.

But she resisted and said angrily, “I am a decent woman and no harlot!” Rising, she moved away in an offended manner, but in the doorway beckoned secretly and Horemheb followed her. I saw nothing more of either of them that evening.

Those who yet remained went on drinking. They staggered about the floor tripping over stools and rattling sistra they had filched from the musicians. They embraced, calling each other brother and friend-and then fell out with blows and cries of gelding and eunuch.

I was drunk, not with wine but with the nearness of Nefernefernefer and with the touch of her hand, until at last she made a sign and the servants began to put out the lights, carry away tables and stools, and gather up the trampled garlands. Then I said to her, “I must go.”

But each word stung my heart like salt in a wound, for I dreaded losing her, and every moment not spent in her company seemed to me wasted.

“Where will you go?” she asked in feigned surprise.

“I go to keep watch tonight in the street before your house. I go to make sacrifice in every temple in Thebes, in thanksgiving to the gods that I have met you again. I go to pluck blossoms from the trees to strew in your path when you leave your house and to buy myrrh with which to anoint your door posts.”

She smiled and said, “It would be better if you did not go, for flowers and myrrh I have already. And if you go fired so with wine, you will run astray among strange women. That I will not allow.”

Her words filled me with joy. I would have seized her, but she resisted me, saying, “Stop! My servants can see us. Though I live alone, I am no contemptible woman.”

She led me out into her garden, which lay in moonlight and was filled with the scent of myrtle and acacia. The lotus flowers in the pool had closed their chalices for the night, and I saw that the edge of the pool was inlaid with colored stones. Servants poured water over our hands and brought us roast goose and fruits steeped in honey, and Nefernefernefer said, “Eat and enjoy yourself here with me, Sinuhe.”

But my throat was roughened by desire, and I could not swallow. She gave me a mocking look and ate greedily. Each time she glanced at me the moonlight was mirrored in her eyes. I would have drawn her into my arms, but she pushed me away, saying, “Do you not know why Bast, the goddess of love, is portrayed as a cat?”

“I care neither for cats nor gods,” said I, reaching out to her, my eyes blurred with desire. She pushed my hands aside.

“Quite soon you may touch me. You may lay your hands on my breast and my stomach if it will quiet you, but first you shall listen to me and learn why a woman is like a cat and why passion, too, is like a cat. Its paws are soft, but they hide claws that rip and tear and stab mercilessly into your heart. Ay, indeed, a woman is like a cat, for a cat also takes pleasure in tormenting its prey and torturing it without ever tiring of the game. Not until the creature is maimed will she devour it and then set forth to seek another victim. I tell you this because I would be honest with you; I have never wished you ill. No, I have never wished you ill,” she repeated absently, taking my hand and moving it to her breast while the other she placed in her lap. I trembled, and the tears sprang from my eyes. Then she pushed me away again.

“You may leave me now, never to return, and then I shan’t hurt you. But if you don’t go now, you can’t blame me for anything that may happen.”

She gave me time to go, but I did not. Sighing a little then as if weary of the game, she said, “So let it be. You must have what you came for, but be gentle, for I am tired, and I fear I may fall asleep on your arm.”

She took me to her room and to her couch of ivory and ebony. There, slipping off her robe, she opened her embrace to me.

It was as if my whole self were being burned away to ashes by her body.

Soon she yawned and told me, “I am very sleepy-and I must believe that you have never lain with a woman before, for you go about it very clumsily and give me no pleasure. But when a youth takes his first woman, he gives her a priceless treasure. I will ask no other present of you. But go now and let me sleep, for you have had what you came for.”

And when I sought to embrace her again, she defended herself and sent me away. I went home with a body molten and seething, knowing that never should I be able to forget her.