Then the girls arose, and stepping backwards, curtseyed themselves out of the apartment, the last one closing the door softly behind her. When the sound of their footsteps had died away the Princess spoke.
“Come, my Miriam,” she said, “and take this seat beside me, wind your arm about my waist, and I will lay my head against your breast, and we will talk to one another. I have been looking at the Sphinx down yonder. For untold generations she has been asking her unsolvable riddle, ‘Whence are we? whither do we go?’ Night after night I have sat here and made inarticulate cry to the beautiful raised head, gazing with expectant eyes toward the west, until at last she seemed to say to my soul, ‘Sister woman, there is no god, but fate, and time—the present time—is ALWAYS his prophet.’
“If this be so, what need of losing breath in prayer? what need of so-called conscience, tell me, Miriam, may I not without fear of the wrath of an avenging God, break the vow I made to my father the King? and with your aid (and another’s) escape from out the city to-night and so save myself from the living death that awaits me in Thebes?”
“Hatsu, beloved,” said Miriam gently (for so it was the will of the Princess that she should be addressed by Miriam when alone) “the great stone image on the plain is naught but the work of man! It has no life, save in the superstitious fancy of a priest-ridden nation! Hatsu, there is above, about, and around us, an eternal force, and it created that which we call humanity. We of Israel call this force ‘God’—the ‘All Father’—and ‘Jehovah,’ and though our bondage under Egypt’s yoke seems to human understanding intolerable, we feel spiritually that we are the children of this King of Kings and Lord of Lords. We understand that when His wise purpose is fulfilled, we shall bless this providence, of chains, and scourgings, and burdens, as a lesson of love, and mercy, making us the more worthy of our inheritance in the promised land.”
The Princess raised her head and listened in silence until Miriam had ceased to speak. “Your words are pretty,” she said with a sigh, “they soothe one like the crooning of a lullabye, and believing it, as you do, must be to you a great consolation, but to me, dear Miriam, it is all delusion, and emptiness! I have read much of theology, and have longed to cultivate faith, but to me all forms of religion seem phantom things, elusive, and delusive; they are assertions of Deity, founded upon legends, and then reared, by unreasoning superstition, through countless generations of men! do not shake your pretty head, Miriam, for I know whereof I speak, and I this day have cast my praying beads aside as worthless toys! while all my thoughts, hopes, and fears, are gathered about the awful fact of that near-at-hand wedding day. The time has come when, if I am to keep the pledge made to my dying father, I must lay aside these garments of sorrow, and don the bridal robe and crown. To-morrow we leave the blessed quiet of this place to journey back to Thebes, and there I shall wed that grewsome creature that reigns in my father’s place! Small comfort do I take in the knowledge that my witless brother has been new calendared among Egypt’s saints! So do they make gods of many noxious beasts and vipers! Tell me, Miriam, could any merciful force, anything with even finest human intelligence doom a maiden to link herself with yonder living, breathing mass of nothingness? My husband, that is to be, clings to the toys of his earliest childhood, merrily jingles his rattle and bells, and is soothed to sleep by the crooning of nursery rhyme! Tothmes the Second a saint! Tothmes the Second a King! There is no God! There is no unseen power! We are creatures of the dust, ruled by creed and greed! See, Miriam, no fire from the Heaven you prate of consumes me for this uttered sacrilege! My heart beats on! My breath comes and goes, as I look up to the star-spangled sky and speak my mind! But, O Miriam, Miriam, is there nothing that can save me?” The Princess had arisen, in her agony, and she now flung herself upon the ground, burying her face in Miriam’s lap.
For a moment there was silence, and then Miriam spoke.
“Hatsu, beloved,” she said, “the path marked out for you to tread seems a dark and thorny one. I would that I could scatter rose leaves upon it or lift its gloom, but I can only read from one life guide, and in all its pages I see the word “obedience.” Our God hath said, ‘Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land,’ therefore, dear and honored mistress, cease to struggle against that which you have vowed beside your father’s dying bed to perform, and, in the midst of your present despair let this thought comfort you, our sojourn on this planet, that men call the Earth, is but for a moment of time; this will lead you to believe that in some better sphere, you will look back to see that yesterday’s sorrows were but mists and nothing more. Think not of yourself, dear lady, but of your land, of Egypt. She has need of you upon her throne. Your people love and trust you. Can you then subject them to a rule so terrible as would surely befall should the mother of Tothmes the Second have power to guide the State? Live for your people, Hatsu, and leave your present and your future in the hands of the One God; call Him if you will Osirus, for any name we call (if we call with reverent spirit) the Supreme Ruler will answer to.”
The Princess raised her head and looked into Miriam’s eyes.
“Dear Miriam,” she said, “I have no faith to offer to Deity; have I not prayed and fasted through these days of mourning? and has help come? No, but rather with each new hour I have felt the meshes of the net more tightly drawn about me! And always night and day I see this picture. A girl stands before me. She wears upon her head a heavy golden crown. Its frontlet is an Eagle—the emblem of power, strength, and freedom; the Eagle’s wings are wide spread; the bird glitters with gems—oh, how they shine!—but they are above eyes that fain would weep, yet dare not; they are above a heart that must not break! The girl’s garment is of cloth of gold, and her long braids are entwined with pearls; her sandalled feet glimmer like frost in the sunshine; on her arms, about her throat, and in her ears, diamonds glisten, and as she stands upon a carpet of freshly gathered flowers, she is a priceless gift to the King, her husband that is to be; but under this mask of silk, and gold, and gem, I see a degraded womanhood! the girl is spiritually bound by something stronger than captive chains; oh, Miriam,” she cried, springing to her feet, “there are no Gods! there is no one God! Nay! do not speak, but listen! I have from babyhood served the Gods of my people! I have with my own hands fed the sacred beasts and birds in the Temple. I have dedicated every heliotrope in all the palace gardens to Osirus, and what is my reward? I am to be mated to deformity of mind and body! A deformity that so disgraces the name of man that his coming shadow makes the bravest shudder! His touch is like leprosy! His caresses will be Hell. Oh, that the God you worship would hear my cry for escape! Pray to Him, Miriam, and may-hap, through your faith, in this eleventh hour, there will be found a city of refuge for me.”
Even as the Princess spoke these words, there came a strong tap upon the door, and in an instant she had resumed her seat, and Miriam her place, behind her mistress’ chair.