Rheou. I could gain nothing but these words from him: "Could I overcome the evil Mieris suffers from, even now should she rejoice in the splendor of day."
Mieris. Nothing is impossible to the gods, even to ours; how much more then to his!—He did not yield to your prayers!—Insist, order, threaten! Force him to speak. You have the right to command him. He is but the son of a potter after all. Let him be whipped till he yield. Do anything, have him whipped to the point of death—or better, offer him fields, the hill of date-trees that is ours; offer him our flocks, and my jewels and precious stones—tell him we know him for a living god—but I would be healed. I would be healed! I would see! See! [With anger] Ah! you know not the worth of the light, you whose eyes are filled with it! You cannot picture my misery, you who suffer it not! You grieve for me, I doubt not, but you think you have done enough, having given me pity!—No, no, I am wrong—I am unjust. But forgive me; this thought that I might be healed has made me mad. Rheou!—Think, Rheou, what it means to be blind, to have been so always, and to know that beside one are those who see—who see!—The humblest of our shepherds, the most wretched of the women at our looms, I envy them. And when, at times, I hear them complain, I curb myself lest I should strike them, wretches that know not their good fortune. I feel that all you, you who see, should never cease from songs of joy, and hymns of thanksgiving to the gods—[With an outburst] I speak of sight! Think, Rheou, I have not even a clear idea of what it means "to see." To recognize without touch, to know without need to listen. To perceive the sun another way than by the heat of its rays!—They say the flowers are so beautiful!—I would see you, my well-beloved. Oh! the day when I shall see your eyes!—I would see, that you may show me some likeness of the little child we lost. You shall point out, among the rest, those that are most like to him. This misery—O my beloved!—I do not often speak of it—but I suffer it! I suffer it! [She is in his arms] They have taken from me the hope that our gods will heal me, if they give me nothing in its place, know you what I shall do?—I shall go away, alone, one night, touching the walls, and the trees—and the trees, with my arms outstretched; I shall go down as far as the Nile and there, gently, I shall glide away to death.
Rheou. Peace, O my best beloved!
Mieris [listening] I hear him—he comes. I leave you with him! Lead him to my door—love me—save me!
She attempts to go out, he leads her. Satni enters followed by Nourm, Sokiti, and Bitiou.
Nourm. Yes! Thou who art mighty!—Yes! Yes! Make me rich—I have had blows of the stick so long! I would be rich to be able to give them in my turn!—You have but to speak the magic words.
Satni [somewhat brutally] Leave me! I am no magician.
Sokiti. I, I do not ask for money. Listen not to him; he is bad. I, I only ask that you make Khames die; he has taken from me the girl I would have wed. [Satni pushes him away. Sokiti, weeping, clings to his garments] Grant it, I implore you—I implore you!—My life is gone with her—make him die, I pray you.
Satni. Leave me!
Sokiti. Hear me.