ACT I
Scene:—The first inner court of the house of Rheou. At the back between two lofty pylons the entrance leading up from below. Through the columns supporting the hanging garden which stretches across the back can be seen the Nile. A high terrace occupies the left of the scene. Steps lead up to it, and from there to the hanging garden. Along the side of the terrace a small delicately carved wooden statue of Isis stands on a sacrificial table. On the right is the peristyle leading to the inner dwelling of Akhounti. The bases of the columns are in the form of lotus buds, the shafts like lotus stems, the capitals full blown flowers. In the spaces between the columns are wooden statues of the gods.
Delethi is playing a harp. Nagaou dances before her. Nahasi is juggling with oranges, while Mouene sits watching a little bird in a cage. Yaouma reclines on the terrace supporting her head on her elbows and gazing out at the Nile. Zaya is beside her. On a carpet Sitsinit, lying flat upon her stomach with a writing box by her side, is busy painting an ibis on the left hand of Hanou, who lies in a similar attitude.
Sitsi. Did you not know? She, on whose left hand a black ibis has been painted, is certain of a happy day.
Hanou. A happy day! Why then, 'tis I, perhaps, who will be chosen to-night!
Delethi [playing the harp while Nagaou dances before her] More slowly!—more slowly!... you must make them think of the swaying of a lotus flower, that the Nile's slow-moving current would bear away, and that raises itself to kiss again the waters of the stream.
Nagaou. Yes, yes.... Begin again!
Nahasi [juggling with oranges] Nagaou would let herself be borne away without a struggle. [She laughs].
Mouene [hopping on one foot] We know that she goes to the bank of the Nile, at the hour when the palm-trees grow black against the evening sky, to listen to a basket maker's songs.
Hanou [to Sitsinit] And this morning I anointed my whole body with Kyphli, mixed with cinnamon and terrabine and myrrh.
Delethi [to Nagaou] 'Tis well ... you may dance the great prayer to Isis with the rest.
Nagaou [to Mouene] Yes! I do go to listen to songs at dark. You are still too little for anyone, basket maker or any other, to take notice of you.
Mouene. You think so!... who gave me this little bird? [She draws the bird from the cage by a string attached to its leg] Who caught thee, flower-of-the-air, who gave thee to me? [Holding up a finger] Do not tell! Do not tell....
Hanou [looking at herself in a metal mirror] Sitsinit ... the black line that lengthens this eye is too short ... make it longer with your reed. I think the more beautiful I am, the more chance I shall have to be chosen for the sacrifice.... Is it not so, Zaya?... What are you doing there without a word?
Zaya. I was watching the flight of a crane with hanging feet, that melted away in the distant blue of heaven.... Do not hope to be chosen by the gods, Hanou.
Hanou. Wherefore should I not be chosen?
Zaya. Neither you nor any who are here. The gods never demand the sacrifice two years together from the same village.
Hanou. Never?
Zaya. Rarely.
Hanou. 'Tis a pity. Is it not, Nagaou?
Nagaou. I know not.
Sitsi. Would it not make you proud?
Nagaou. Yes. But it makes me proud, too, to lean on the breast of him whose words still the beating of my heart.
Delethi. To be taken by a god! By the Nile!
Hanou. Preferred to all the others!
Mouene [the youngest] For my part I should prefer to live....
Sitsi. Still, if the God desired you....
Zaya. Oh! one can refuse....
Delethi. Yes, but one must leave the country, then.... None of the daughters of Haka-Phtah could bring themselves to that.
A pause.
Yaouma [to herself] Perhaps!
Nahasi. What do you say, Yaouma?
Yaouma. Nothing. I was speaking to my soul.
Mouene. Yaouma's eyes weep for weariness because they watch far off for him, who comes not.
Yaouma. Peace, child.
Zaya [to Delethi] One thing is certain, someone must go upon the sacred barge?
Delethi. Without the sacrifice the Nile would not overflow, and all the land would remain barren.
Hanou. And the corn would not sprout, nor the beans, nor the maize, nor the lotus.
Delethi. And all the people would perish miserably.
Hanou. So that she who dies, sacrificed to the Nile, saves the lives of a whole people. That is a better thing, Nagaou, than to make one man's happiness.
A pause.
Yaouma [to herself] Perhaps.
Hanou. And on the appointed day one is borne from the house of the god to the Nile, surrounded by all the dwellers in the town.... The Pharaoh—health and strength be unto him!...
Delethi. You do not know, Hanou, you tell us what you do not know.
Hanou. But it is so, is it not, Zaya? Zaya knows about the ceremony, because last year it was her sister who was chosen.
Mouene. Tell us, Zaya.
Nahasi. Yes, tell us the manner of it.
Zaya. On the fifth day of the month of Paophi....
Mouene. To-day—that is to-day?
Nahasi. Yes. What will happen.... The prayer of Isis.... But afterwards? Before?
They gather round Zaya.
Zaya. Before the sun has ended his day's journey, the people, summoned to the terraces by a call from the Temple, will intone the great hymn to Isis, which is sung but once a year. Within the house of the god the assembled priests will await the sign that shall reveal the virgin to be offered to the Nile to obtain its yearly flood. The name of the chosen will be cried from the doorway on high, caught up by those who hear it first, cried out to others, who in turn will cry it running towards the house that Ammon has favored with his choice. Then shall the happy victim of the year stand forth alone, amid her kinsfolk bowed before her, and to her ears shall rise the shoutings of the multitude.
All. Oh!
Delethi. And after a month of purification she will be borne to the house of the god!
Zaya. And on the day of Prodigies....
Nahasi. Oh, the day of Prodigies!
Zaya. She will be the foremost nearer to the Sanctuary than all the rest. She will pray with the praying crowd, she will behold the lowering of the stone that hides the face of Isis....
Delethi. She will behold Isis—face to face....
All. Oh!
Zaya. She will beg the goddess graciously to incline her head, in sign that, yet another year, Egypt shall be protected. And when the fervor of the crowd's united prayer is great enough, the head of the Goddess of Stone will bow. That will be the first prodigy.
Delethi. The head of the Goddess of Stone will bow—that will be the first prodigy.
Zaya. And in the crowd there will be blind who shall see, and deaf who shall hear, and dumb who shall speak.
Delethi. Perhaps Mieris, our good mistress, will be cured of her blindness at last.
Hanou. And when she who is chosen goes forth from the house of the God.... Tell us, Zaya, tell us the manner of her going forth.
Zaya. Three days before the appointed day, in the town and throughout the land, they will begin the preparations for the festival. When the moment comes, the crowd will surge before the temple, guarded by Lybian soldiers. And she, she, the elect, the saviour, will come forth, ringed by the high priests of Ammon in purple and in gold, and aloft on a chariot where perfumes burn, deafened by sound of trumpet and cries of joy, she will behold the people stretch unnumbered arms to her....
All. Oh!
Delethi. And she will be borne to the Nile....
Zaya. And she will be borne to the Nile. She will board the barge of Ammon....
Delethi. And the barge will glide from the bank....
Zaya. And the barge will glide from the bank where all the crowd will bow their faces to the dust. [She stops, greatly moved] And when the barge returns she will be gone.
All [in low tones] And when the barge returns she will be gone.
Zaya. And after two days the waters of the Nile will rise.
All. The waters of the Nile will rise....
Delethi. And as far as the waters flow they will speak her name, who made the sacrifice, with blessings and with tears.
Hanou. If it were I!...
All [save Yaouma] If it were I!...
Yaouma rises to a sitting posture.
Zaya. If it were you, Yaouma?
Yaouma. Perhaps I should refuse.
All. Oh!
Mouene [mischievously] I know why! I know why!
Delethi. We know why.
Zaya. Tell us....
Yaouma. Tell them....
Delethi. 'Tis the same reason that has held you there this many a day.
Yaouma. Yes.
Mouene. She watches for the coming of the galley with twenty oars, bearing the travellers from the North. There is a young priest among them, the potter's son.
Delethi. A young priest, the potter's son, who went away two years ago.
Yaouma. He is my betrothed.
Nahasi. But you know what they say?
Zaya. They say that on the same boat there comes a scribe who preaches of new gods....
Yaouma. I know.
Delethi. Of false gods.
Mouene. The priests will stop the boat, and eight days hence, perhaps, Yaouma will still be awaiting her betrothed.
Yaouma. I shall wait.
The Steward enters and whispers to Delethi.
Delethi. The mistress sends word the hour is come to go indoors.
They go out L, Sitsinit picking up the writing box, Nahasi juggling with oranges, Mouene carrying her cage and dancing about, Delethi plays her harp singing with Hanou and Nagaou.
Black is the hair of my love,
More black than the brows of the night,
Than the fruit of the plum tree.
The Steward, who had gone out, returns at once, whip in hand, followed by a poor old man, half naked, and covered with mud, who carries a hod.
Steward [stopping before the statue of Thoueris] There. Draw near, potter, and look. By some mischance, the horn and the plume of Goddess Thoueris have been broken. The master must not see them when he comes back for the feast of the Nomination. There is the horn—there is the plume. Replace them.
Pakh [with terror] I—must I ... to-day when my son is coming home?
Steward. Are you not our servant?
Pakh. I am.
Steward. And a potter?
Pakh. I am.
Steward. Did you not say you knew how to do what I ask?
Pakh. I did not know that I must lay hands on the Goddess Thoueris.
Steward. Obey.
Pakh [throwing himself on his knees] I pray you! I pray you ... I should never dare. And then ... my son ... my son who is coming back from a long, long journey....
Steward. You shall have twenty blows of the stick for having tired my tongue. If you refuse to obey me you shall have two hundred.
Pakh. I pray you.
Steward. Bid Sokiti help you.
He goes out at the back; as he passes he gives Sokiti a blow with his whip, making a sign to him to go and join Pakh.
Sokiti obeys without manifesting sorrow or surprise.
Pakh. He says we must lift down the Goddess.
Sokiti. I?
Pakh. You and I.
Sokiti [beginning to tremble. After a pause] I am afraid.
Pakh. I too—I am afraid.
Sokiti. If you touch her you die.
Pakh. You will die of the stick if you do not obey.
Sokiti. Why cannot they leave me at my work. I was happy.
Pakh. We must—we must tell her that it is in order to repair her crown.
Sokiti. Yes. We must let her know.
They prostrate themselves before the goddess.
Pakh. Oh, Mighty One!—thou who hast given birth to the gods, pardon if our miserable hands dare to touch thee! Thy horn and thy right plume have fallen off. 'Tis to replace them.
Sokiti. We are forced to obey—O breath divine—creator of the universe.... It is to mend thee.
Pakh [rising, to Sokiti] Come!
Bitiou, the dwarf, enters; he is a poor deformed creature. When he sees Pakh and Sokiti touching the statue, he tries to run away. He falls, picks himself up, and hides in a corner. By degrees he watches and draws near during what follows. Pakh and Sokiti take the statue from its pedestal and set it upright on the ground.
Sokiti. She has not said anything.
Pakh. She must be laid on her belly.
Sokiti. Gently....
They lay her flat.
Pakh [giving him the horn] Hold that. [He goes to his hod, takes a handful of cement, and proceeds to mend the statue] Here ... the plume ... so ... there ... we must let her dry. In the meantime let us go look upon the Nile; we may see the boat that brings my son.
Sokiti. You will not see him.
Pakh. I shall not see him?
Sokiti. He is a priest.
Pakh. Not yet.
Sokiti. But he was brought up in the temple ... 'tis to the temple he will go.
Pakh. He will come here ... because he would see his father and mother once more.
Sokiti. And Yaouma his betrothed.
Pakh. And Yaouma his betrothed.
He goes R. Bitiou approaches the statue timidly, and stops some way off.
Sokiti. There is nothing in sight.
Pakh. No.... [suddenly] You saw the crocodile?
Sokiti. Yes.... There is a woman going to the Nile with her pitcher on her head.
Pakh. That is my wife, that is Kirjipa, that is mine. She seeks with her eyes the boat that bears her son—Satni.
Sokiti. She is going into the stream.
Pakh. How else can she draw clear water?
Sokiti. But at the very spot where the crocodile plunged.
Pakh. What matter? She wears the feather of an ibis ... and I know a magic spell. [He begins to chant] Back, son of Sitou! Dare not! Seize not! Open not thy jaws! Let the water become a sheet of flame before thee! The spell of thirty-seven gods is in thine eye. Thou art bound, thou art bound! Stay, son of Sitou! Ammon, spouse of thy mother, protect her!
Sokiti [without surprise] It is gone.
Pakh [without surprise] It could not do otherwise.
Bitiou, now close to the statue, touches it furtively with a finger tip, then runs, falls, and picks himself up. He comes up to Pakh and Sokiti.
Sokiti [pointing to the statue] She is dry now, perhaps?
Pakh. Yes, come.
Sokiti. I am afraid still.
Pakh. So am I, but come and help me.
They replace the statue on its pedestal, then step back to look at it.
Sokiti. She has done us no harm.
Pakh. No.
Sokiti. Ha! ha!
Pakh. Ha! ha! ha! ha! [Bitiou laughs with them. A distant sound of trumpets is heard. Sokiti and Pakh go to the terrace to look] It is the chief of the Nome. They are bearing him to the city of the dead. At this moment his soul is before the tribunal, where Osiris sits with the two and forty judges.
Sokiti. May they render unto him all the evil he has done!...
Pakh. The evil he has done will be rendered unto him a thousand fold.... He will pass first into the lake of fire.
Sokiti [laughing] Pakh! Pakh! picture him in Amenti—in the hidden place—
Pakh. I see him ... the pivot of the gate of Amenti set upon his eye, turns upon his right eye, and turns on that eye whether in opening or in shutting, and his mouth utters loud cries.
Sokiti [doubling up with delight] And he who ate so much!... He who ate so much! He will have his food, bread and water, hung above his head, and he will leap to get it down, whilst others will dig holes beneath his feet to prevent his touching it.
Pakh. Because his crimes are found to outnumber his merits....
Sokiti. And we—we—say—what will happen to us?
Pakh. We shall be found innocent by the two and forty judges.
Sokiti. And after?—after?
Pakh. We shall go to the island of the souls—in Amenti—
Sokiti. Yes, where there will be.... Speak. What shall we have in the island of the souls?
Pakh. Baths of clear water....
Sokiti [with loud laughter] What else ... what else?
Pakh. Ears of corn of two arms' length.... [Laughing].
Sokiti [laughing] Yes, ears of corn, of two arms' length.
Pakh. And bread of maize, and beans....
Sokiti. And blows of the stick—say, will there be blows of the stick?
Pakh. Never again.
Sokiti. Never again....
Pakh. I shall forget all I have endured.
Sokiti. I shall be famished; and I shall be able to eat until my hunger is gone ... every day!
Bitiou. And I—I shall be tall, with straight strong legs, like the rest of the world.
Pakh. That will be better than having been prince on the earth.
They laugh. The Steward appears.
Steward. What are you doing there? [Striking them with the whip] Your mistress comes! Begone!
They go out.
The Steward bows low before Mieris who is blind, and who enters with her arms full of flowers and led by Yaouma.
The Steward retires.
Mieris [gently] Leave me, Yaouma—I shall be able to find my way to her, alone.
Yaouma. Yes mistress.... [Nevertheless, she goes with her noiselessly].
Mieris [smiling] I can feel you do not obey. Be not afraid. [She has come as far as the little statue of Isis] You see, I do not lose my way. I have come every day to bring her flowers, a long, long time.... Leave me.
Yaouma. Yes, mistress.
She withdraws.
Mieris [touching the statue in the manner of the blind] Yes, thou art Isis. I know thy face, and I can guess thy smile. [She takes some of the flowers which she has laid beside her and lays them one by one on the pedestal of the statue] Behold my daily offering! I know this for a white lotus flower. It is for thee. I am not wrong, this one, longer, and with the heavier scent, is the pink lotus. It is for thee. And here are yet two more of these sacred flowers. At dawn, they come from out the water, little by little. At midday they open wide. And when the sun sinks they, too, hide themselves, letting the waters of the Nile cover them like a veil. Men say they are fair to see. Alas, I know not the beauty of the gifts I bring! Here is a typha ... here an alisma; and by the overpowering perfume, this, I know, is the acacia flower. I have had them tell me how the light, playing through the filmy petals, tints them with color sweet unto the eyes. May the sight gladden thine! I know not the beauty of the gifts I bring! But all the days of my life, a suppliant I shall come, and weary not to ply thee with my prayers, until in the end thou absolve me, until thou grant me the boon that all save I enjoy, to behold the rays of the shining God, of Ammon-Ra, the Sun divine. O Isis, remember the cruel blow that did befall me! I had a little child. Unto him sight was given, and when he first could speak, it was life's sweetest joy, to hear him tell the color and the form of things. He is dead, Isis! And I have never seen him—Take thou my tears and my prayer, bid this perpetual night, wherein I scarce can breathe, to cease—And if thou wilt not, deliver me to death—She-who-loves-the-silence, and after the judgment I may go to Amenti, and find my well-beloved child—find him, and there at last behold his face. Isis, I give thee all these flowers. [She rises] Come, Yaouma. [As she is about to go, she stops, suddenly radiant] Stay—I hear—yes! Go, bring the ewer and the lustral water. It is the master—He is here.
Yaouma goes out, but returns quickly. Enter Rheou.
Mieris. Be welcome unto your house, master!
Yaouma pours water over the hands of Rheou and gives him a towel.
Rheou. Gladly I greet you once more in your house, mistress! [Pakh appears, returning to look for his hod] [To Pakh] Well! potter, do you not go to meet your son?
Pakh. I would fain go, master, but I looked upon the Nile a while ago; there is nothing in sight.
Rheou. The galley came last night at dusk, and, by order of the priests, was kept at the bend of the river till now. Go!
Pakh. I thank you, master.
He goes out.
Rheou. Is all made ready for the solemn prayer to Isis? The Sun is nearing the horizon.
Mieris. Yaouma, go and warn them all.
Yaouma [kneeling in supplication] Mistress—
Mieris [laying her hand on Yaouma's head] What is it?
Yaouma. The galley.
Mieris. Well?—Ah, yes! you were betrothed to the potter's son—But to-day you must not go forth. Who shall say you are not she whom the God Ammon will choose?
Yaouma. The God Ammon knows not me.
Mieris. Did he choose you, he must know you.
Yaouma. Me! Me! A poor handmaiden—Is it then possible—truly?
Mieris. Truly—Yaouma, go.
Yaouma [to herself as she goes] The God Ammon—the God of Gods—
Mieris. Rheou, what ails you?
Rheou [angered] It was a fresh insult that awaited me—
Mieris. Insult?
Rheou. When I came into the audience chamber I prostrated myself before the Pharaoh. "What would you?" he cried in that hard voice of his. You know 'tis the custom to make no reply, that one may seem half dead with fear before his majesty—
Mieris. Did you not so?
Rheou. I did, but he—
Mieris. Have a care! Is no one there who might overhear you?
Rheou. No one—but he, in place of ordering them to raise me up, in place of bidding me speak—Oh, the dog of an Ethiopian!—he feigned not to see me—for a long while, a long, long while—At length, when he remembered I was there, anger was choking me; he saw it; he declared an evil spirit was in me, and having ridiculed me with his pity, he bade me then withdraw. He forgets that if I wished—
Mieris. Be still! Be still! Know you not that there, beside you, are the Gods who hear you!
Rheou [derisively] Oh! the Gods!
Mieris. What mean you?
Rheou [derisively] I am the son of a high priest; I know the Gods—The Pharaoh forgets that were I to remind the people of my father's services, were I to arm all those who work for me, and let them loose against him—
Mieris. Rheou! Rheou!
Rheou. Think you they would not obey me? I am son of that high priest, the Pharaoh's friend who wished to replace the Gods of Egypt, by one only God. The court cannot forgive me for that. Little they dream, that were I to declare my father had appeared to me, all those who know me, all the poor folk whose backs are blistered by the tax-gatherer's whip, all who are terrorized by schemes of foreign war—all, all would take my orders as inspired, divine.
Mieris. The fear of the Gods would hold them back.
Rheou. How long—I wonder!
Mieris. I hear them coming for the prayer.
Rheou. Yes. Let us pray—that they may have nothing to reproach me with before I choose my hour.
Mieris. What hour?
Rheou. Could I but realize the work my father dreamed of—and at the same stroke be avenged—avenged for all the humiliations—
Mieris. Be silent—I hear—
The singers and the dancers and all the women and servants come on gradually.
Rheou [going to the terrace] The sun is not yet down upon the hill. But look—upon the Nile—see, Yaouma! 'tis the galley that bears your betrothed.
Yaouma. 'Tis there! 'Tis there!—See—it has stopped—they take the mallet, and drive in the stake. The boat's prow is aground. Now they have prayed—they disembark. Look, there is the strange scribe!
Rheou [looking] A stranger—he—I do not think it.
Yaouma. I thought, from his garments, perhaps—
Pakh returns.
Rheou. Did you not wait for your son?
Pakh [terrified] Master, on the road that leads to the Nile, I beheld two dead scarabs—
Rheou. None, then, save the High Priest, may pass till the road be purified.
Pakh. I have warned the travellers they must go a long way round.
Rheou. Did you not recognize your son?
Pakh. No, he will be among the last to land, perhaps.
Yaouma. But look—look! Behold that man—the stranger who comes this way alone—Pakh! where were they, Pakh—the scarabs?
Pakh. Near to the fig tree.
Yaouma [terrified] He is about to pass them—Oh! He does not know—[Relieved] Ah! at last, they warn him.
Rheou. He stays.
Yaouma. Near to the fig tree, said you! But he is going on—He moves—he comes—He is past them—[To Mieris] Come, mistress, come! Oh Ammon! Ammon!
Hiding her face she leads Mieris quickly away.
Rheou. 'Tis to our gates he comes—he is here.
Satni enters.
Satni [bowing before Rheou] Rheou, I salute you!
Rheou. What do I behold! Satni—'tis you—
Pakh. My son!
Satni [kneeling] Father!
Pakh. 'Twas you!—you, who came that way, despite the scarabs?
Satni. It was I.
Pakh. You know then some magic words, I do not doubt; but I—I who saw them—I must needs go purify myself before the prayer—to-day is the feast of the Nomination—did you know?
Satni. I knew—and Yaouma?
Pakh. She is here—in a little you shall see her.
Rheou. Satni!
Satni. You called me?
Rheou. Yes. Did not you see the two scarabs that lay upon your path?
Satni. I saw them.
Rheou. And you did not stop?
Satni. No.
Rheou. Why?
Satni. I have learned many things in the countries whence I come.
Rheou. You are a priest. Was not your duty to go unto the temple, even before you knelt at your father's feet?
Satni. Never again shall I enter the temple.
A long trumpet call is heard far off.
Rheou. It is the signal for the prayer.
He mounts the terrace and stretches his arms to the setting sun. Women play upon the harp and upon drums, and the double flute. Others clash cymbals and shake the sistrum. Dancers advance, slowly swaying their bodies. The rest mark the rhythm by the beating of hands.
Music.
Rheou. O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy name.
All [murmuring] O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy name.
Rheou. O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the destroying winds, and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of time.
All [murmuring] O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the destroying winds, and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of time.
Rheou. O Isis! preserve us.
All [murmuring] O Isis! preserve us.
Rheou. By the three times thy name is spoken.
All [murmuring] By the three times thy name is spoken.
Rheou. Both here, and there, and there.
All [murmuring] Both here, and there, and there.
Rheou. And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as long as our temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.
All [murmuring] And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as long as our temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.
Rheou. Isis!
All [murmuring] Isis!
Rheou. Isis!
All [murmuring] Isis!
Rheou. Isis!
All [murmuring] Isis!
All prostrate themselves save the singers and the dancers.
Rheou. We beseech thee, Ammon! Deign to make known the virgin who will be offered to the Nile. Ammon, deign to make her known!
All [murmuring] Deign to make her known.
The music stops. A long pause in silence. Then far off a trumpet call.
Rheou. Rise! The God has made his choice.
All rise, and begin chattering and laughing gaily.
Rheou [to Satni] You, alone, did not pray, and stood the while. Wherefore?
Satni. I have come from a land where I learned wisdom.
Rheou. You!—You who were to be priest of Ammon!
Satni. I shall never be priest of Ammon.
Voices. Listen! Listen!—The name! They begin to cry the name!
The distant sound of voices is heard. Every one in the scene save Satni is listening intently.
Rheou. The name! The name!
He mounts the terrace. The setting sun reddens the heavens.
Satni [to Yaouma] At last I find you again, Yaouma. And you wear still the chain of maidenhood. You have waited for me?
Yaouma. Yes, Satni, I have waited for you.
Satni. The memory of you went with me always.
Yaouma. Listen!—[Distant sound of voices].
A Woman. Methinks 'tis Raouit of the next village.
A Man. No! No! 'Tis not that name.
Satni [to Yaouma] What matter their cries to you. Have you forgot our promises?
Yaouma. No—Listen!—[Voices nearer].
A Woman. 'Tis Amterra! 'Tis Amterra!
Another. No! 'Tis Hihourr!
Another. No! Amterra lives the other way.
Another. One can hear nothing clearly now.
Another. They are passing behind the palm grove.
Satni [to Yaouma] Answer me—you have ears only for their clamor—I love you, Yaouma.
A Voice. They are coming! They are coming!
Another. Then 'tis Karma, of the next house.
Another. No! 'tis Hene. Ahou, I tell you—or Karma! Karma!
Satni [to Yaouma] Have you, then, ceased to love me?
Yaouma [distracted] No, no, I love you—Satni—but I seem to hear my name amid the cries—
Satni. Let them cry your name—I will watch over you.
Yaouma. Oh, Satni! If the God have chosen me?
Satni. What God? It is the priests who make him speak.
The sounds come nearer.
A Voice. 'Tis Yaouma! they come here! Quick, quick, let us do them honor on their coming.
Another. No!
Another. Yes!
Another. 'Tis she!
Another. No!
Another. Yes! yes! Yaouma!
Satni [to Yaouma] Do not be fooled. The God is but a stone.
Yaouma [who no longer listens] I have heard. It is my name—my name!
A Voice. They are coming!—
Another. They are here!
Every one begins to go out.
Another [going] 'Tis Yaouma!
Loud shouts without—"'Tis Yaouma—'Tis Yaouma—"
Steward [to Rheou] Master, it is Yaouma.
Rheou. Go, as 'tis custom, let all go forth to meet those who come.
All go out save Yaouma and Satni.
Yaouma [radiant] 'Tis I!
Satni. You may refuse.
Yaouma. And leave Egypt—
Satni. We will leave it together.
Yaouma. 'Tis I! Think of it, Satni! The God, out of all my companions, the God has chosen me!
Satni. Do not stay here. Come with me.
Yaouma [listening] Yes—yes—You hear them? It is I!
Satni. You are going to refuse!
Yaouma [with a radiant smile] You would love me no longer, if I refused.
Satni. But know you not, it is death?
Yaouma [in ecstasy] Yes, Satni, it is death!
Satni. You are mine—You are plighted to me—Come—Come!
Yaouma. Satni—Satni—you would not have me refuse?
Satni. I would. I love you.
Yaouma. Refuse to answer the call of the Gods.
Satni. The call of the Gods is death.
Yaouma. The God has chosen me, before all he has preferred me. He has preferred me to those who are fairer, to those who are richer. And I should hide myself!
Satni. It is out of pride then that you would die?
Yaouma. I die to bring the flooding of the Nile—to make fertile all the Egyptian fields. If I answer not to the voices that call me, my name will be a byword wherever the rays of the sun-God fall. Another than I will go clothed in the dazzling robe. Another will hear the shouting of the multitude. Another will be given to the Nile.
Satni. Another will die, and you, you will live, for your own joy and for mine.
Yaouma. For my own shame and for yours.
Satni. Light the world with your beauty. Live, Yaouma, live with me! Bright shall your breast be with the flower of the persea, and your tresses anointed heavy with sweet odor.
Yaouma. The waves of the Nile will be my head-dress. Oh! fair green robe, with flowers yet more fair.
Satni. Yaouma, you loved me—[She bends her head] Remember, remember my going away, but two years since, how you did weep when I embarked. You ran by the bank, you followed the boat that bore me. I see you still, the slim form, the swift lank limbs; I can hear still the sound of your little naked feet upon the sand. And when the boat grounded—do you remember? For hours the oarsmen pushed with long poles, singing the while, and you clapping your hands and crying out my name. And when at length we floated, there was laughter and cries of joy—but you, you did stand all on a sudden still, and I knew then that you wept. You climbed to a hillock, and you waved your arms, you grew smaller, smaller, smaller, till we turned by a cluster of palms. Oh, how you promised to wait for me!
Yaouma. Have I not waited?
Satni. We had chosen the place to build our home. Do you remember?
Yaouma. Yes.
Satni. And dreamed of nights when you should sleep with your head upon my breast—[Yaouma bends her head] And now you seek a grave in the slime of the river.
Yaouma [with fervor] The slime of the river is holy, the river is holy. The Nile is nine times holy. It makes grow the pasture that feeds our flocks. It drinks the tears of all our eyes.
Satni. Listen, Yaouma, I will reveal the truth to you. The Gods who claim your sacrifice—the Gods are false.
Yaouma. The Gods are true—
Satni. They are powerless.
Yaouma. It is their power that subdues me—it is stronger than love. Until to-day I loved you more than all the living things upon the earth—the breath of your mouth alone gave life to my heart. Even this very day, I dreaded being chosen of the Gods. But now, who has so utterly transformed me if it be not the Gods? You are to me as nothing, now. And I who trembled at a scorpion, who wept at the pricking of a thorn, I am all joy at the thought of dying soon. How could this be if the Gods had not willed it?
Satni. Hear me a little—and I can prove to you—
Yaouma. No words can take away the glory of being chosen by the Gods.
Satni. By the priests.
Yaouma. 'Tis the same, the priests are the voice of the Gods.
Satni. 'Tis they who say so. The Gods of Egypt exist only because men have invented them.
Yaouma. The peoples from whose lands you come have made you lose your reason. [With a smile of pity] Say that our Gods exist not! Think, Satni!
Satni. Neither the Gods, nor the happy fields, nor the world to come, nor hell.
Yaouma. Ah! Ah! I will prove you mad—you say there is no hell—But we know, we know that it exists, look there! [Pointing to the sunset] When the sun grows red at evening, is it not because the glow of hell is thrown upon it from below? You have but to open your eyes. [Laughing] The Gods not exist!
Satni. They do not. In the sanctuaries of our temples is nothing save beasts, unclean, absurd, and lifeless images; believe me, Yaouma—I love you—I will not see you die. Your sacrifice is useless. Not because you are offered up will the waters of the Nile rise! Refuse, hide yourself, the waters will still rise. Ah, to lose you for a lie! To lose you—you! How can I convince you?—I know! Yaouma, you saw me cross the dead scarabs on my path. And yet I live! Oh! it angers me to see my words move you not. Your reason, your reason! Awaken your reason—
Yaouma. I am listening to my heart.
Satni. I will save you in spite of you—I will keep you by force—
Yaouma. If you do, I shall hate you—
Satni. What matter I shall have saved you.
Yaouma. And I shall kill myself.
Satni [seizing her] Will you not understand! The God-bull, the God-hippopotamus, the God-jackal—they are naught but idols!
Yaouma. My father worshipped them.
Every one comes back. Rheou, who during all the preceding scene was hidden behind a pillar, goes to meet them.
Some Men. Yaouma! Yaouma!
Another. Up to the terrace!
Others. Up to the terrace! Let her go up to the terrace!
Another. And let her lift her arms to heaven!
Another. Let her show that she will give herself to the Nile.
Satni [to Yaouma] Stay! Stay with me! Then together—
Yaouma [in ecstasy] He has chosen me from among all others!
All. Yaouma!
Satni. She has refused! She has refused! And I will take her away.
All. No! No! To the terrace! The prayer! The prayer!
Rheou. Yaouma, go and pray.
Satni. She has refused!
Mieris. Choose, Yaouma, between our Gods and a man.
Rheou. Between the glory of sacrifice—
Satni. Between falsehood and me, Yaouma—
Yaouma. The God has called me to save my brothers!
Satni. You are going to death!
Yaouma. To life—the real life—the life with the Gods. [Going to the terrace].
Satni. They lie!
Yaouma. Peace!
Satni. In spite of you, I will save you. [Yaouma goes up the stairway leading to the terrace. Satni stands on a bench and shouts to the crowd] Hear me, my brothers, I know of better Gods, of Gods who ask for no victims—
The People. They are false Gods!
Satni. They are better Gods—
Steward. Rheou! Rheou! bid him cease!
Rheou. No—let him speak.
Satni. I come to save you from error, to overthrow the idols, to teach you eternal truths—
An immense shout of acclamation drowns the rest of Satni's words, as Yaouma, who has appeared on the terrace above, stands with her arms raised to the setting sun. Mieris kneels and crosses her hands in prayer.