the servants who moved about their masters or his guests had merely
a narrow loin-cloth tied round their hips; while in the country, the
peasants dispensed with even this covering, and the women tucked up
their garments when at work so as to move more freely. The religious
teaching and the ceremonies connected with their worship drew the
attention of the faithful to the unveiled human form of their gods, and
the hieroglyphs themselves contained pictures which shock our sense of
propriety. Hence it came about that the young girl who was demanded in
marriage had no idea, like the maiden of to-day, of the vague delights
of an ideal union. The physical side was impressed upon her mind,
and she was well aware of the full meaning of her consent. Her lover,
separated from her by her disapproving parents, thus expresses the grief
which overwhelms him: "I desire to lie down in my chamber,--for I am
sick on thy account,--and the neighbours come to visit me.--Ah! if my
sister but came with them,--she would show the physicians what ailed
me,--for she knows my sickness!" Even while he thus complains, he sees
her in his imagination, and his spirit visits the places she frequents:
"The villa of my sister,--(a pool is before the house),--the door opens
suddenly,--and my sister passes out in wrath.--Ah! why am I not the
porter,--that she might give me her orders!--I should at least hear
her voice, even were she angry,--and I, like a little boy, full of fear
before her!" Meantime the young girl sighs in vain for "her brother, the
beloved of her heart," and all that charmed her before has now ceased to
please her. "I went to prepare my snare, my cage and the covert for
my trap--for all the birds of Puanit alight upon Egypt, redolent with
perfume;--he who flies foremost of the flock is attracted by my worm,
bringing odours from Puanit,--its claws full of incense.--But my heart
is with thee, and desires that we should trap them together,--I with
thee, alone, and that thou shouldest be able to hear the sad cry of
my perfumed bird,--there near to me, close to me, I will make ready
my trap,--O my beautiful friend, thou who goest to the field of the
well-beloved!" The latter, however, is slow to appear, the day passes
away, the evening comes on: "The cry of the goose resounds--which is
caught by the worm-bait,--but thy love removes me far from the bird, and
I am unable to deliver myself from it; I will carry off my net, and what
shall I say to my