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.