Egypt. Holding what in your hand?
L. The little pyramid.
Egypt. Neith's pyramid?
L. Neith's, I believe; though not built for Asychis. I know only that it is a little rosy transparent pyramid, built of more courses of bricks than I can count, it being made so small. You don't believe me, of course, Egyptian infidel; but there it is. (Giving crystal of rose Fluor.)
(Confused examination by crowded audience, over each other's shoulders and under each other's arms. Disappointment begins to manifest itself.)
Sibyl (not quite knowing why she and others are disappointed). But you showed us this the other day!
L. Yes; but you would not look at it the other day.
Sibyl. But was all that fine dream only about this?
L. What finer thing could a dream be about than this! It is small, if you will; but when you begin to think of things rightly, the ideas of smallness and largeness pass away. The making of this pyramid was in reality just as wonderful as the dream I have been telling you, and just as incomprehensible. It was not, I suppose, as swift, but quite as grand things are done as swiftly. When Neith makes crystals of snow, it needs a great deal more marshalling of the atoms, by her flaming arrows, than it does to make crystals like this one; and that is done in a moment.
Egypt. But how you do puzzle us! Why do you say Neith does it? You don't mean that she is a real spirit, do you?