“But Osiris, though seeing it all, held his peace; he could do no more.
“‘Shall I help him?’ she asked.
“Osiris was too proud to speak.
“Then Isis took the last stitch in her knitting, and gathering her work in a roll of brilliance flung it off—flung it so it fell close to the man. And he, hearing the sound of the fall so near by, looked up, and lo! a Woman—the First Woman—was stooping to help him! She reached a hand to him; he caught it and arose; and nevermore was miserable, but evermore happy.”
“Such, O son of Hur! is the genesis of the beautiful, as they tell it on the Nile.”
She paused.
“A pretty invention, and cunning,” he said, directly; “but it is imperfect. What did Osiris afterwards?”
“Oh yes,” she replied. “He called the Divine Wife back to the sun, and they went on all pleasantly together, each helping the other.”
“And shall I not do as the first man?”
He carried the hand resting upon his neck to his lips. “In love—in love!” he said.