Rheou [credulously] Is't possible?
Mieris. Every one saw it. And Kitoui—
Rheou. Well?
Mieris. Kitoui, the cripple, went this morning to draw water from the Nile, before all her neighbors who marvelled and cried with joy. And she had merely touched the hem of his garment, even without his knowing it. He has healed the child of Riti, too, he knows gods more powerful than ours—younger gods, perhaps, our gods are so old—If it were not so, how could he have walked unscathed the road where the scarabs lay, that day when he came home? Since then, men have seen him do a thousand forbidden things, have seen him defy our gods by disrespect. Without the protection of a higher power, how could he escape the chastisement whereof another had died? Who are his gods? Rheou, he must make them known to you.
Rheou. He refuses.
Mieris. For what reason?
Rheou. The reason he gives is absurd—he says there are no gods—
Mieris. No gods! no gods!—he is mocking you.
Rheou. He is bound to secrecy, perhaps.
Mieris. Rheou, know you that this Ahmarsti—these two years now, on the day of Prodigies, have I heard her at my side howling prayers at the goddess that were never answered.