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?