The
girl girt up her dress, waded into the water, and now saw her mother
standing, hidden up to her waist in a forest of papyrus-reeds,
bending over a reed-basket with a baby at her breast.
"Mother," whispered Miriam, "Pharaoh's daughter is approaching; she
comes to bathe in the river."
"Lord God of Israel, have mercy on my child!"
"If you have given the child enough to drink, hasten and come."
The mother bowed herself like an arch over the child; her hair hung
down like an insect-net, and two tears fell from her eyes on the
little one's outstretched hands. Then she rose, placed a sweet date
in its mouth, softly closed the cover, murmured a blessing, and came
out of the water.
A gentle breeze from the land swayed the rushes and crisped the
surface of the river.
"The basket swims," she said, "but the river flows on; it is red
with blood and thick as cream. Lord God of Israel, have mercy!"
"Yes, He will," answered Miriam, "as He had mercy on our father
Abraham, who obtained the promise, because he obeyed and believed,
'Through thy seed shall all the families on the earth be blessed.'"
"And now Pharaoh slays all the first-born."
"But not thy son."
"Not yet."
"Pray and hope."
"What? That the monsters of the river do not swallow him, that the
waves of the river do not drown him, that Pharaoh's executioners do
not kill him! Is that the hope?"
"The promise is greater, and it lives: 'Thy seed shall possess the
gate of his enemies.
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