Seti was not far from his destination, an obscure village of
image-makers directly south of Tanis and situated on the northern
border of Goshen. The same region that furnished clay to Israel for
Egypt's bricks afforded material for terra-cotta statuettes.
Ahead of him were fields with clouds of sheep upon the uplands and
cattle standing under the shade of dom-palms. Here and there hovels
with thatches no higher than a man's head, or low tents, dark with long
use, and lifted at one side, stood in a setting of green. About them
were orderly and productive gardens. Nowhere was any sign of the
desolation that prevailed over Egypt.
Seti looked upon the beautiful prosperity of Goshen at first with the
natural delight loveliness inspires, and then with as much savage
resentment as his young soul could feel. Belting this garden and
stretching for seven hundred miles to the south, was Egypt, desolate,
barren and comatose. The God of the Hebrews had avenged them fearfully.
"They had provocation," he muttered to himself; "but they have overdone
their vengeance."
A figure appeared on the road over the comb of a slight ridge, and Seti
regarded the wayfarer with interest.
He was a Hebrew.
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