"So then the holy father is dead," said Pentuer to himself.
He left the window and approached the place where the heir was sitting, sunk in imaginings.
The priest knelt before him, fell on his face, and exclaimed:
"Be greeted, O pharaoh, ruler of the world!"
"What dost Thou say?" cried the prince, springing up.
"May the One, the All-Powerful, pour down on thee wisdom and strength, and happiness on thy people."
"Rise, Pentuer! Then I then I."
Suddenly he took the arm of the priest and turned toward the Sphinx.
"Look at it," said he.
But neither in the face nor in the posture of the colossus was there any change. One pharaoh had stepped over the threshold of eternity; another rose up like the sun, but the stone face of the god or the monster was the same precisely. On its lips was a gentle smile for earthly power and glory; in its glance there was a waiting for something which was to come, but when no one knew.