6. VI.
“I bring thee food, my father,” said Ipsistos;
and he placed before the aged man the viands
which had been given him by the high priest of
the temple.
“Ha! my son, — be thou blessed among the
sons of men, as thou art blest and beloved by thy
sire. Whence got'st thou these meats — this
bread, and the luscious grapes which thou puttest
before me.”
“From Bermahdi.”
“From Bermahdi! — Blessed be Bermahdi —
blessed be the holy temple — forever honored
the goddess therein.”
And the aged man kneeled as he said these
words, and the young women and the sons kneeled
also, all but Ipsistos.
“How, my son, — wherefore kneelest thou not
with us? — would'st thou withhold thy blessings
and thy thanks?”
“My thanks have been already given, my father.
I have spoken with Bermahdi in the temple.”
“In the temple! — Ha! have I been so blessed
in my old age as to behold a son of mine who
hath had admittance to the temple of the goddess.
Let me look upon thee, — let me kneel to thee, my
son, for of a truth the goddess hath greatly favored
thee.”
“Kneel not to me, — look not upon me, father,
but eat of the meats sent thee by Bermahdi. I
am blind, and weak, and not worthy of thy regard.”
“But thou saw'st the wondrous things of the
temple, my son, — the giants which are there fettered
beneath the feet of the goddess, — the sacred
serpent that speaks at her bidding, — the holy
owl of counsel, and the ape, the ox, the emeralds
—”
“I saw many things, my father, of which I
took little heed.”
“Little heed, my son, — little heed! What
meanest thou? Thou took'st little heed of what
thou saw'st in the temple! What! thou wast
frightened; the wonders overcame thee? Thou
wert blinded and astonished by the blaze. It was
enough, my son, to confound thee. It is my
wonder how thou saw'st any thing, — how thou
cam'st alive from that glorious presence. But the
goddess strengthens whom she loves, and by these
tokens, Ipsistos, thou art beloved of the goddess.
Grant it be so, — grant it be, — then would my
gray hairs go down to the grave in peace.”
But far other was the prayer in the heart of Ipsistos,
and he turned away in silence from the admiring
gaze which the doting old man fixed upon
him. And the brothers and sisters murmured
among themselves, and marvelled much at the
favor of the goddess towards Ipsistos. And they
said, “Wherefore is this favor of Bermahdi?
Have we not been the first ever to bring our offerings
to the temple? Though they were mean, yet
we brought of the best in our store; and our prayers
and songs were the loudest in the presence of
the goddess. And was not Ipsistos a loiterer by
the way-side, and when did he raise voice or song
in honor of the temple? The goddess hath surely
meant, for one of us, the favor which Bermahdi
hath so blindly bestowed on him.”
“And what said Bermahdi to thee, my son?”
demanded the grandsire.
“He would have me in the service of the goddess,”
replied Ipsistos.
“Ha! thou dost not say it!” cried the rejoicing
father.
“He! a servant in the temple!” cried the eldest
of the brothers. — “Ha! ha! ha! This is
a folly, if not worse. Thou speak'st idly, Ipsistos,
— I trust thou dost not wilfully declare thy
falsehood.”
“I speak the truth only, my brother,” meekly
replied Ipsistos.
“I will not believe it,” cried the rest. —
“Wherefore should they make thee a servant in
the temple. What hast thou, — what art thou?
Thou art mad, Ipsistos. Thou art poor, and what
is thy father? Made he not bricks for the city,
even for those who are now living and can declare
his craft; and what is thy craft, but the same, Ipsistos,
which thou art only too idle to follow.”
“True, true, Ipsistos, — thou must surely err in
this,” cried the old man, sorrowfully. — “Wherefore
should Bermahdi choose thee to serve in the
temple. Thy brothers speak but reason; — and
yet, my children, Ipsistos hath never yet told me
other than the truth.”
“And it is the truth only which I tell thee now,
my father. Bermahdi hath commanded me to
serve in the temple, in season to become a priest.”
“A priest!” cried the elder brother in amazement.
“A priest!” cried they all, in wonder at the
apparent madness or gross presumption of the
youth.
“Thou a priest!” said the elder brother. —
“What should make thee a priest, when thy
awkward hands let fall the garlands ere they reach
the altar.”
“Thou a priest!” exclaimed the eldest sister.
— “How would thy long arms look in the holy
garments? — they would drag about thy heels like
a great mill-sack.”
“Only to think,” said the younger sister, the
favorite of Ipsistos, “only to think of making
thee a priest, Ipsistos, when I have ridden upon
thy shoulders a thousand times.”
“Nay, flout not thy brother, my children — ye
make me sad as I behold his sorrows. Flout him
not, though, in truth, my son, thy story is most
strange.”
“Yet true, my father. Do not these fruits speak
for me? They are from the altar of the temple.”
This could not be denied. The brothers and
sisters of the youth had seen them carried to the
temple. And the old man marvelled much upon
the mystery; he could not yet be satisfied of his
son's truth, for when had the son of a maker of
brick, been called to such sacred office. Meanwhile,
a grievous suspicion of Ipsistos grew in
the hearts of his brethren. And they whispered
among themselves, and their evil thought came to
the ears of the father.
“He hath stolen these things from the altar of
the goddess. Of a truth he hath committed sacrilege.”
And with these words the aged man dashed
from his lips the untasted viands, and his jaws
were distended with the horror of the thought.
“What hast thou done, Ipsistos? My son, my
best beloved, wherefore hast thou done this
thing?”
“They wrong me, my father, for, of a truth, I
am not guilty of this base crime. The fruits
were given to me, for thee, by the hands of Bermahdi.”
“Swear it, by the temple and the goddess!
and I will believe thee,” said the father.
“It will not then be a greater truth than it is
now, my father. Believe me, as I tell thee, but I
will not swear;” and he rushed from the dwelling
as he spoke these words.
“He is guilty!” cried the brothers with joy,
but the old man hung his head in shame.
“Alas!” he cried, “wherefore was I born to
this dishonor.”
And the sons hurried away to the chief priest,
to declare the theft and to restore the consecrated
fruits; but the old man lay upon his face at the
door of his habitation, and would not be comforted.
