Black beetles
slipped in and out among the stones; dragon-flies hung over the surface
of the water and large ants made erratic journeys about the rough bark
of the naked palms. Whoever came dipped his goblet deep, for there the
water was cold. If he gazed through to the bottom he detected a
convection in the sand below. This was not a reservoir, but a well.
Once only had it failed, but then Hapi, the holy river, had been
smitten also.
The spring bubbled up at the division of a road. One branch led along
the northern bank of the Rameside canal, eastward to Pa-Ramesu. The
other crossed the northwestern limits of Goshen and went toward Tanis,
in the northeast. Round about the little oasis were the dark circles
where the turf fires of many travelers had been. The merchants from
the Orient entering Egypt through the great wall of Rameses II, across
the eastern isthmus, passed this way going to Memphis. Here
Philistine, Damascene, Ninevite and Babylonian had halted; here
Egyptian, Bedouin, Arabian and the dweller of the desert had paused.
The earth about the well was always damp, and the top-most row of the
curb was worn smooth in hollows. This, therefore, was a point common
to native and alien, the home-keeping and the traveler, the faithful
and the unbeliever.
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