By the basin, under a small portico cut in the solid wall, sat a
priest, old, bearded, wrinkled, cowled--never being more perfectly
eremitish. From the manner of the people present, hardly might one
say which was the attraction, the fountain, forever sparkling,
or the priest, forever there. He heard, saw, was seen, but never
spoke. Occasionally a visitor extended a hand to him with a coin
in it. With a cunning twinkle of the eyes, he took the money,
and gave the party in exchange a leaf of papyrus.
The receiver made haste to plunge the papyrus into the basin; then,
holding the dripping leaf in the sunlight, he would be rewarded
with a versified inscription upon its face; and the fame of the
fountain seldom suffered loss by poverty of merit in the poetry.
Before Ben-Hur could test the oracle, some other visitors were
seen approaching across the meadow, and their appearance piqued the
curiosity of the company, his not less than theirs.
He saw first a camel, very tall and very white, in leading of
a driver on horseback. A houdah on the animal, besides being
unusually large, was of crimson and gold. Two other horsemen
followed the camel with tall spears in hand.
"What a wonderful camel!" said one of the company.
"A prince from afar," another one suggested.
"More likely a king."
"If he were on an elephant, I would say he was a king."
A third man had a very different opinion.
"A camel--and a white camel!" he said, authoritatively.
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