"
But Hotep shook his head in profound apprehension. He looked at the
statue furtively and murmured:
"O Kenkenes, what madness made thee trifle with the gods?"
"Have I not said? The goddess herself lured me. Is she not the
embodied essence of Beauty? The ritual insults her. Ah, look at the
statue, Hotep. How could Athor be wroth with the sculptor who called
such a face as that, a likeness of her!"
"It startles me," the scribe declared. "It is supernaturally human.
That is not art, but creation. O apostate, thine offense is of
two-fold seriousness. Thou hast stolen the function of the divine
Mother and made a living thing!"
Kenkenes laughed with sheer joy at his comrade's genuine praise. The
more dismayed Hotep might be, the more sincere his compliment. But the
scribe, plunged into a stupor of concern lest the authorities discover
the sacrilege, went on helplessly.
"What wilt thou do with it when it is done?"
"I have left no mark of myself upon it."
"Nay, but the priesthood can scent out a blasphemer as a hound scents a
jackal."
"Thou wilt not betray me, Hotep; I shall not publish myself, and the
other--the only other who possesses my secret--the Israelite, who was
my model, is fidelity's self.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255