That night Lucius went to Tamyris.
But he returned, the next morning, disillusionized and disappointed.
Chapter XIII
“My son,” said old Thrasyllus, sitting beside his couch, “do you intend always to cherish your illness and longing, like a serpent that devours you, bone and flesh? The sibyl of Rhacotis merely guessed your own thoughts. The holy Amphris could explain nothing more than that many, who resemble one another, mean only one in the dream. After that, what could your credulity imagine that a crafty hetaira would make you guess in her embrace? The name of that one man? The name of the pirate? The place where he is hiding Ilia?... One pirate?... Who could have stolen her?”
“I don’t know,” said Lucius, wearily.
“My poor, sick boy,” said the tutor, “no one knows and no one will ever know. She has disappeared. If she has not been kidnapped by pirates, she is drowned. Did you not visit the slave-markets in Rome on purpose to find her? Have you not done the same thing here, in Alexandria? She is not to be found. Forget her, my son. Try to get better. If no other woman can cure you, let some other power than love cure you. Amphris mentioned wisdom. There is wisdom. Seek it here, in the land of wisdom. This city, my son, is a sinful city, though it is fair to look upon. This city is as Tamyris herself: it is a wanton among cities. There is no more wisdom in this city, notwithstanding the Museum, notwithstanding the Serapeum, notwithstanding the dreams of Canopus, which die away in orgies. In this city I have met none save merchants, usurers and venal women. This magnificent city is a venal city. Even the philosophers here are avaricious and venal. Even the prophets demand a talent for their divinations. The power of money holds sway here and no longer wisdom. Let us go farther. There is wisdom left in Egypt. And in the wisdom which we shall find you will be cured. Listen, my son: there is the sacred word of the Kabbala, which Moses himself received from the godhead on Mount Sinai. That word has never been graven on tables of stone, but Moses whispered it to his sons and those sons to theirs. It is the key to happiness. He who utters it has the power to avoid suffering and to know all that can be known on earth. I have sought for it, in the Museum, in the Serapeum, here and at Canopus. While you lay sorrowing on your couch, my son, I have held converse with priests and with philosophers, with prophets. I am persuaded that I shall not find the word in Alexandria.”
“But where will you find it, Thrasyllus?”
The tutor stared before him:
“Perhaps farther on,” he said. “Perhaps at Memphis. Let us go to Memphis. If I do not find the word at Memphis, I shall look for it farther still. Let us sail up the Nile, to Thebes, to Ethiopia. Let us go to the pillars of Sesostris. Something tells me that we shall find it ... and that you will be cured, my son. But let us go.”