branded the soldier who deserted to the foe or rebelled
against the orders of his commander as a base scoundrel and villain,
and by his orders many a renegade from his standard had died a shameful
death on the gallows under his own eyes. Was he now to commit the deed
for which he had despised and killed others? His prompt decision was
known throughout the army, how quickly in the most difficult situations
he could resolve upon the right course and carry it into action; but
during this dark and lonely hour of the night he seemed to himself a
mere swaying reed, and felt as helpless as a forsaken orphan.

Wrath against himself preyed upon him, and when he thrust a spear into
the flames, scattering the embers and sending a shower of bright sparks
upward, it was rage at his own wavering will that guided his hand.

Had recent events imposed upon him the virile duty of vengeance, doubt
and hesitation would have vanished and his father's summons would have
spurred him on to action; but who had been the heaviest sufferers here?
Surely it was the Egyptians whom Moses' curse had robbed of thousands
of beloved lives, while the Hebrews had escaped their revenge by flight.
His wrath had been kindled by the destruction of the Hebrews' houses,
but he saw no sufficient cause for a bloody revenge, when he remembered
the unspeakable anguish inflicted upon Pharaoh and his subjects by the
men of his own race.

Nay; he had nothing to avenge; he seemed to himself like a man who
beholds his father and mother in mortal peril, owns that he cannot save
both, yet knows that while staking his life to rescue one he must leave
the other to perish. If he obeyed the summons of his people, he would
lose his honor, which he had kept as untarnished as his brazen helm, and
with it the highest goal of his life; if he remained loyal to Pharaoh
and his oath, he must betray his own race, have all his future days
darkened by his father's curse, and resign the brightest dream he
cherished; for Miriam was a true child of her people and he would be
blest indeed if her lofty soul could be as ardent in love as it was
bitter in hate.

Stately and beautiful, but with gloomy eyes and hand upraised in
warning, her image rose before his mental vision as he sat gazing over
the smouldering fire out into the darkness. And now the pride of his
manhood rebelled, and it seemed base cowardice to cast aside, from dread
of a woman's wrath and censure, all that a warrior held