He nodded.
Instantly I tore the letters into as many pieces as there were collars. Afterward, when we walked off the boat, arm in arm, I dropped them into the water.
We got back to the engineer's before the picnickers had finished their belated Turkish coffee. Bailey took the vacant chair between Rachel Guest and Monny Gilder. Biddy said that she had asked to have some coffee kept hot for me. I needed it!
That is what delayed our start for Philae and is, I suppose, why everything that took place there afterward happened exactly as it did. If we had left the Dam an hour earlier, there would have been no excuse to stop for sunset at the temple which those who love it call the "Pearl of Egypt." As it was—but that comes afterward.
When Strabo went from Syene to Philae, he drove in a chariot with the prefect of that place, "through a very flat plain," and on both sides of their road (I fear, for their bones, it was a rough one!) rose "blocks of dark, hard rock resembling Hermes-towers." Nearly two thousand years later we were rowed to the same temple, across an immensely deep, vast sheet of shining crystal. We lolled (I am fond of that word, though aware that it's reserved for villainesses) in "galleys" painted in colours so violent that they looked like tropical birds. They were awninged, and convulsively propelled by Nubians whose veins swelled in their full black throats, and whose ebony faces were plastered with a grayish froth of sweat. Each pressed a great toe, like a dark-skinned potato, on the seat in front of him for support in the fierce effort of rowing. Turbans were torn off shaved, perspiring heads, and even skull-caps went in the last extreme. Wild appeals were chanted to all the handiest saints to grant aid in the terrible undertaking. An eagle-eyed child at the steering wheel gazed pityingly at his agonized elders. And then, just as you expected the whole crew to fall dead from heart failure, they chuckled with glee at some joke of their own. There was always breath and energy enough to spare when they wanted it. But what would you? The labourer must be worthy of his hire, and a little something over. When Strabo saw Philae, she was a distant neighbour of the mighty Cataracts. Now, the waters which once rushed down are prisoned by the Great Dam, and stand enslaved, to wall the temple round like a great pearl in a crystal case. She is the true Bride of the Nile; for, as long ago the fairest of maidens gave herself to the water as a sacrifice, so Philae gives herself for the life of the people. She drowns, but in death she is more beautiful than when the eyes of the old historian beheld her, glowing with the colours of her youth, yet already old, deserted by gods and priests and worshippers. Now she has worshippers from the four ends of the earth, and the greatest singers of the world chant her funeral hymn. For in all Egypt, with its many temples of supreme magnificence, there is nothing like Philae. None can forget her. None can confuse her identity for a moment with that of any other monument of a dead religion. And if she were the only temple in Egypt, Egypt would be worth crossing the ocean to see, because of this dying pearl in its crystal case.
Venus rose from the sea. Philae, the Marriage Temple of Osiris and Isis—Venus of Egypt—sinks into the sea of waters poured over her by Khnum, god of the Cataracts. Thus the great enchantress sings her swan-song to touch the heart of the world, her fair head afloat like a sacred lotus on the gleaming water. I think there were few among us who did not fancy they heard that song, as our Nubian men rowed across the sea stored up by the great Barrage. From far away we saw a strange apparition, as of a temple rising from the waters. It seemed unreal at first, a mere mirage of a temple. Then it took solid outline; darkly cut in silver; a low, column-supported roof; a pylon towering high; and to the south, separated from both these, a thing that might have been a huge wreath of purple flowers. We knew, however, from too many photographs and postcards, that this was "Pharaoh's Bed," the unfinished temple of Augustus and Trajan, standing on a flooded island.
Our boat glided close to the flower-like stems of the columns supporting the low roof. Far down in the clear depths we could see the roots of the pillars, or their phantom reflections. And in the light of afternoon, the water was so vivid a green that the colour of it seemed to have washed off from the painted stones. Onto this roof we scrambled, up a flight of steps, and found that we were not to have Philae to ourselves. There were other boats, other tourists; but we pretended that they were invisible, and they played the same game with us. Ignoring one another, the rival bands wandered about, wondered what the place would be like with the water "down," quoted poetry and guide-books, and climbed the pylon. From that height the kiosk called "Pharaoh's Bed" showed a mirrored double, like an old ivory casket with jewelled sides, piled full of a queen's emeralds. We loitered; we explored; and having descended sat down to rest, dangling irreverent feet over beryl depths, splashed with gold. Thus we whiled away an hour, perhaps. Then the Set, impressed at first, had had enough of the mermaid temple's tragic beauty. Sir John Biddell reminded me that it had been a long day for the ladies, and very hot. Hadn't we better get back to the Enchantress before sunset? But that was exactly what some of us did not want to do.
The matter was finally settled by retaining our one small boat, with two rowers, and sending off the two larger "galleys" with their full complement of passengers, excepting only "Mrs. Jones," Miss Gilder, Antoun Effendi, the melancholy Cleopatra, and the guilty shepherd of the flock, who knew he had no business to desert his sheep. He did nevertheless feel, poor brute, that after such a day he had earned a little pleasure, and, accordingly proceeded to snatch it from Fate, despite disapproving glances. Punishment, however, fell as soon as it was due. I had stayed behind with the intention of amusing Brigit. But Monny took her from me, as if she had bought the right to use my childhood's friend whenever it suddenly occurred to her to want a chaperon. Instead of Biddy, I got Cleopatra. And by this time, so far as we knew, all tourists save ourselves had gone.
I knew in my heart that, in accusing Monny Gilder of claiming Brigit O'Neill because she was paying her expenses, I did the girl an injustice. Monny was afraid of herself with Anthony. I saw that plainly, since the fact had been laid under my nose by Mrs. East. She feared the glamour of this magical place, perhaps, and felt the need of Biddy's companionship to keep her strong, not realizing that any one else was yearning for the lady. This was the whole front of her offending; yet I was so disappointed that I wanted to be brutal. Without Biddy, I should wish but to howl at the sunset, as a dog bays the moon. And feeling thus I may not have made myself too agreeable to Cleopatra. In any case, after we had sat in silence for a while, waiting for a sunset not yet ready to arrive, she turned reproachful eyes upon me. "Lord Ernest," she said, "I think you had better go and join Monny."