“And thou, Asti the Magician, art thou afraid also, who but now wast bold enough to cry to Amen-Ra—‘Come from thy high heaven and make answer’?”
“It is even so, O Queen Ahura,” murmured Asti.
“Woman,” went on the voice, “thy sin is great, and great is the sin of this royal one at thy side. Had Amen hearkened, how would the two of you have stood before his glory, who at the sight of this shape of mine that once was mortal like yourselves, crouch choking to the earth? I tell you both that had the god arisen, as in your wickedness ye willed, there where ye knelt, there ye would have died. But he who knows all is merciful, and in his place has sent me his messenger that ye may live to look upon to-morrow’s sun.”
“Let Amen pardon us!” gasped Tua, “it was my sin, O Mother, for I commanded Asti and she obeyed me. On me be the blame, not on her, for I am torn with doubts and fears, for myself and for another. I would know the future.”
“Why, O Queen Neter-Tua, why wouldst thou know the future? If hell yawns beneath thy feet, why wouldst thou peep through its golden doors before the time? The future is hid from mortals because, could they pierce its veil, it would crush them with its terrors. If all the woes of life and death lay open the gaze, who would dare to live and who—oh! who could dare to die?”
“Then woes await me, O thou who wast my mother?”
“How can it be otherwise? Light and darkness make the day, joy and sorrow make the life. Thou art human, be content.”
“Divine also, O Ahura, if all tales be true.”
“Then pay for thy divinity in tears and be satisfied. Content is the guerdon of the beast, but gods are wafted upwards on the wings of pain. How can that gold be pure which has not known the fire?”
“Thou tellest me nothing,” wailed Tua, “and it is not for myself I ask. I am fair, I am Amen’s daughter, and splendid is my heritage. Yet, O Dweller in Osiris, thou who once didst fill the place I hold to-day, I tell thee that I would pay away this pomp, could I but be sure that I shall not live loveless, that I shall not be given as a chattel to one whom I hate, that one—whom I do not hate—will live to call me—wife. Great dangers threaten him—and me, Amen is mighty; he is the potter that moulds the clay of men; if I be his child, if his spirit is breathed into me, oh! let him help me now.”