He occupied himself for a few moments with the baskets of food, done up with paper napery, ready for the ever-present chafing-dish and samovar. He banked the fire so that it would smolder without dying out, and then the two men went slowly toward the beach where old ocean came in uproariously, and sullenly ground its white teeth on the sands.
Yermah considerately took the ocean side, so as to protect Akaza as much as possible from the cool wind. He drew a thin, bony hand up under his cloak and clasped it close to his side with the upper arm.
They were an interesting study—these two men. One the perfect embodiment of physical health and strength; the other, feeble in body, but a veritable giant of spiritual force.
The one man stood absolutely apart from temporal things; the other was just beginning to live on the sensuous, or material plane. As they walked they left odd-looking wet tracks behind them.
“Thou knowest already,” said Akaza, “that thou hast successfully performed seven of the great labors in the self-development of Osiris. Now thou standest face to face with that which hinders; and it is necessary that I should explain to thee the purport of this eighth labor.”
“Is there something about it which I do not understand?” asked Yermah, in a surprised tone. “I have but to find the treasure hidden in the rocks, and then I am ready to return home. I have learned to fashion the gold which is to tip the spires of my temple, and when this is done I shall demand release from my vow. As soon as the Brotherhood receives me, I am free.” Then, with a slight hesitation in manner and speech—“I have already decided what I shall do with my freedom.”
While he was speaking, Akaza moved and breathed like a person in pain.
“What I must explain to thee is the duality of thine own nature,” he went on, turning sadly toward Yermah, “the dual aspect of the labor thou hast already performed, and what thou must do in the future. First, then, Osiris is thyself—the I-am-I principle within thee, which is the same first, last, and all the time. Thy labor is the finding of the Perfect Way. Love is the consummation, and Wisdom is the way.”
“What wouldst thou have me do?” asked Yermah, eagerly.
“First, I would have thee realize the transitory nature of life, and its desires, not on the intellectual plane, but as a fact in nature. The body, scientifically considered, is not the same through the whole life. Neither does the mind remain the same. Man’s ability to look at his own desires and feelings impersonally is the beginning of Wisdom. No man can extricate himself from the result of his own deeds.”