"It is a plague," she said.
"Then the hand of Amenti is on us," the Egyptian shuddered. "Whither
shall we flee?"
"Ye can not flee from the One God," the voice from the crypt said
grimly.
"Nay, but what have I done to vex the gods?" Masanath insisted. "O let
me go hence. Where are my servants?"
"It is better for thee to bide here," the voice went on relentlessly.
"For outside the sheltering neighborhood of the chosen people, the hand
of the outraged God shall overtake Egypt and scorch her throat with
thirst and make her veins congeal for want of water."
Masanath gained her feet, crying out wildly:
"My servants! Where are they? Let me forth."
The Israelite put an assuring arm about her. "Thou wilt not dare to
face the Nile again," she warned. "Stay with us."
"To starve! To perish of thirst! To die of pestilence! The gods have
left us. We are undone!"
"Aye, the gods have left you," the voice continued harshly. "Ye are
given over to the vengeance of the God of Abraham. Howl, Egypt! Rend
thyself and cover thy head with ashes. Thy destruction is but begun.
For a hundred years thou hast oppressed Israel. Now is the hour of the
children of God!"
Masanath wrung her hands, but the voice went on.
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