Belles-Lettres
The Septuagint
[The oldest and most important of all the versions of the Bib'e made by Jews is the Septuagint. According to the Greek historian Arısteas, the Pentateuch was translated at the time of Philadelphus, the second Ptolemy, which translation was encouraged by the King and welcomed by the Jews of Alexandria. Graetz assigns it to the reign of Philameter, about one hundred years later. The Septuagint was revised by Aquila, who embodied in his revision the principles of the strictest lit- <ral interpretation of the text. His revision was received with great favor by Jews who understood Greek, but understood no Hebrew. The second revision of the Septuagint was made by a convert to Judaism, Theodotion. The writer of the following story is a young Polish poet of great talent. His tegends from Jewish history have attracted a great deal of attention. During the recent agitation in Russia, his name has often been mentioned as a militant advocate of Polish freedom.]
FOR a week unusual festivities had prevailed in Alexandria. King Ptolemy Philadelphus, the mighty ruler of the kingdom of Aj-Gabt, was entertaining seventy-two sages in his palace.
Every day when the sun arose from its saffron couch, there gathered on the banks of the Mediterranean Sea a countless multitude of youths, maidens, men and women. There first resounded the sweet tones of guitars, lutes, and golden-framed harps. These were then joined by flutes, cymbals and trombones. And finally a chorus of a thousand voices chimed in, which rang out to the clear heavens.
But after that a holy stillness reigned in the city for the rest of the day. No one went out into the streets; even in the houses voices were hushed to whispers. For
the mighty ruler of Aj-Gabt, the Wise King, was conversing with the sages.
And every night, when the setting sun tinted the blue of the Mediterranean with gold, the same countless multitude stood on the shore, and chanted a song, which called a blessing upon the departing day. For the Wise King had come a thought nearer to the sages.
Only when the sapphire, star-wreathed night proclaimed the end of the daily conference, did the people, clad in festal array, leave their homes.
Thousands of torches flared up. The pillars of the porticoso of Bruchium and Rhakotis, bedecked with garlands of roses and jasmine, were dotted with many-colored light. From the acropolis shone a violet-colored shaft of light.
The multitude of people surged, on foot and in sedan-chairs, before the white marble pillare of the royal palace, on the gigan- tie terraces, between the bronze statues and basalt lions, among fountains, myrtles and cypresses. Some maidens surrounded them in a gigantic semi-circle, touching their harps with the plectron, or playing with skilful fingers on the sweet-sounding chords of the Dichordos and Sambuka.
And at a distance, inclosing these, in semi-circles, were rows of youths, with trumpets and drums. Gold-embroidered purple, interspersed with white and blue satin, covered their brown bodies from breast to knees. Golden fillets were entwined in their raven-black hair. The dark, rosy-lipped faces, breathed forth the sweetness of spring and of love, and the pupils of their black eyes sparkled like pearls.
Out of large bronze vases flickered the flames of burning incense, casting variegated reflections on the female dancers, the