“Which new God?” asked Lucius.
“I don’t know His name,” said Thrasyllus.
But Uncle Catullus spoke:
“My dear nephew, that great monstrous fellow frightens me, here in the dark, in the desert, in front of this awful statue. Egypt gives me too many impressions. I feel like a sponge full of water, so soaked am I with impressions. Egypt will be the death of me, Lucius, you’ll see it will! Meanwhile I propose to mount my camel.”
And Uncle Catullus called his guards and drivers and bade them make his camel kneel down for him.
But Lucius went to the prophet and drew him aside:
“Do you know the past?” he asked, anxiously.
“The past?” echoed the Jewish seer, in an uncertain voice; and his eyes were as though blind.
“Do you see and can you tell me if that which I think has happened ... is undoubtedly true?”
“I no longer see either the past or the future,” said the seer. “I see nothing but the present. And the present for me is nothing but ... the radiant Child yonder!”