MOTHER BOUGNE. You're right, Girard. When I was a kid, and there was no machines—leastways, not to speak of—we was all better off. Women stayed at home, and they'd got enough to do. Why, my old grandmother used to fetch water from the well and be out pickin' up sticks before it was light of a mornin'! Yes, and women made their own bread, and did their washin', and made their bits of things themselves! Now it's machines for everythin', and they say to us: "Come into the factory and you'll earn big money." And we come, like silly kids! Why, fancy me, eight years old, taken out of the village and bunged into a spinnin' mill! Then, when I was married, there was me in a workman's dwellin'. You turn a tap for your water, don't fetch it; baker's bread, and your bit of dinner from the cookshop, or preserved meat out of a tin. You don't make a fire, you turn on the gas; your stockin's and togs all fetched out of a shop. There ain't no need for the women to stay at home no longer, so they cuts down the men's wages and puts us in the factories. We ain't got time to suckle our kids; and now they don't want young 'uns any more! But when you're in the factory, they make yer pay through the nose for yer gas and yer water, and baker's bread and ready-made togs; and you've got nothin' left out of yer bit of wages, and you're as poor as ever; and you're only a "hand" at machines in the damp and smoke, instead of bein' in your own house an' decent like. What are you fussin' about, Girard? Don't you see that we can't go back to the old times now? A woman ain't got a house now, only a little room with nothin' but a dirty bed to sleep on! And I tell you, Girard, you've got to let us earn our livin' like that now, because it's you and the likes of you that's brought us to it.

GIRARD. Well, after all, we've got to look after our living. The women want to take it from us.

MOTHER BOUGNE. It's because they haven't got any themselves, my lad. They've got to live as well as you, you see.

GIRARD. And supposing there isn't enough living for everybody?

MOTHER BOUGNE. The strongest'll get it and the weak 'uns'll be done in.

GIRARD. Well, we've not made the world, and we're not going to have our work taken away from us.

CONSTANCE. And we're not, either.

DESCHAUME. Damn it all, we've got to live.

BERTHE. Well, we've got to live too. The kids has got to live and we've got to live. One would think we was brute beasts.

CONSTANCE. We say just the same as you. We've not made the world, it ain't our fault.

During the last few speeches women have appeared at the door to the right and have remained on the threshold, becoming excited by the conversation.

A WOMAN [at the door] It ain't our fault.

Some men show themselves at the door at the back.

A MAN. So much the worse for you.

ANOTHER WOMAN. We've got to live, we've got to live!

ANOTHER MAN. Ain't we got to live too?

THERESE. Well, don't drink so much.

The women applaud this speech with enthusiasm.

A WOMAN [bursting out laughing] Ha! Ha! Ha!

WOMEN. Right, Mademoiselle! Well done! Good!

They come further forward.

BERTHE. You won't get our work away from us.

DESCHAUME. It's our work; you took it.

BERTHE. You gave it up to us.

A MAN. Well, we'll take it back from you.

ANOTHER MAN. We were wrong.

ANOTHER MAN. Drive out the Hens.

ANOTHER MAN. The strike! Long live the strike! We'll come out!

A WOMAN. We'll take your places; we've got to live.

A MAN. There's no living for you here.

A WOMAN. Yes there is; we'll take yours.

THERESE. Yes, we'll take yours. And your wife that you brought here yourself will take your place, Vincent. And you the same, Deschaume. She'll take your place, and it'll serve you right. You can stay at home and do the mending to amuse yourself.

GIRARD [to the women] This woman from Paris is turning the heads of the lot of you.

CHARPIN. Yes, that's about the size of it.

VINCENT. She don't play the game. She does as she bloomin' well likes. She wouldn't engage my old woman. She took women from Duriot's.

GIRARD [to Therese] That's it. It's you that's doing it. [To the women] You've got to ask the same wages as us.

THERESE. You know very well—

GIRARD [interrupting] It's all along of your damned Union.

VINCENT. There wasn't any ructions till you come.

CHARPIN. We'll smash the Hens' Union.

A row begins and increases.

A MAN. Put 'em through it! Down 'em! Smash the Hens! Smash 'em!

A WOMAN. Turn out the lazy swines!

A WOMAN [half mad with excitement] We're fightin' for our kids. [She shrieks this phrase continuously during the noise which follows]

BERTHE. Turn out the lazy swines!

DESCHAUME [shaking his wife] Shut up, blast you, shut up!

ANOTHER MAN [holding him back] Don't strike her!

DESCHAUME. It's my wife; can't I do as I like? [To Berthe] Get out, you!

BERTHE. I won't!

Deschaume tries to seize hold of his wife; this starts a general fight between the men and women, during which one distinguishes various cries, finally a man's voice.

A MAN. Damn her, she's hurt me!

ANOTHER MAN. It's her scissors! Get hold of her scissors.

Berthe screams.

THERESE. They'll kill one another! [To the women] Go home, go home; they'll kill you. Go home at once.

The women are suddenly taken with a panic; they scream and run away, followed by the men.

A WOMAN. Oh, you brutes! Oh, you brutes!

Therese goes out to the right with the women. The men go off with Deschaume, whose hand is bleeding. Girard, who was following them, meets Monsieur Feliat at the door.

GIRARD [to Feliat] Deschaume's bin hurt, sir.

FELIAT. He must be taken to the Infirmary.

DESCHAUME [excitedly] With her scissors she did it, blast 'er!

CHARPIN. The police, send for the police!

GIRARD. Don't be a bally fool. We can take care of ourselves, can't we, without the bloomin' coppers.

DESCHAUME [shouting] The police, send for the police! To protect the right to work. Send for 'em.

GIRARD [to Monsieur Feliat] If 't was to bully us, you'd have sent for 'em long ago. What are you waiting for?

FELIAT. I'm waiting till you kindly allow me to speak. I can't believe my ears. Is it you, Girard, and you, Deschaume, who want to have the police sent for to save you from a pack of women? Ha! Ha!

CHARPIN. Oh, it makes you laugh, does it?

GIRARD. You defend the cats because they're against us. Well, we won't have it. Duriot's men came out—

CHARPIN. Yes, and we'll do the same.

DESCHAUME. We will. Look out for the strike!

GIRARD. We're agreed; ain't we, mates?

CHARPIN AND DESCHAUME [together] Yes, yes. We'll strike. Let's strike.

FELIAT. You don't really mean that you're going on strike?

GIRARD. Don't we, though!

FELIAT. How can you? I've given everything you've asked for.

CHARPIN [growling] That's just the reason.

GIRARD. If you've given in, that shows we were right. You'll have to give in some more.

FELIAT. Good God, what d'you want now?

CHARPIN. We want you to sack all the women.

DESCHAUME. No we don't. We want you to sack Mademoiselle Therese.

FELIAT. You're mad! What harm has she done you?

GIRARD. The harm she's done us? Well, she's on your side.

DESCHAUME. She's turned the women's heads. They want to take our places.

CHARPIN. And we won't have it.

FELIAT. Come! Be reasonable. You can't ask me that.

GIRARD. We do ask you that.

FELIAT. It will upset my whole business.

CHARPIN. What's that to us?

FELIAT. Well, I must have time to think about it.

GIRARD. There's nothing to think about. Sack the Paris woman or we go on strike.

FELIAT. You can't put a pistol to my head like this. I've got orders in hand.

GIRARD. What's that to us?

FELIAT. Well then, I won't give in this time. You demanded that I should not open a new workshop. I gave in. I won't go further than that.

GIRARD. Then out we go.

FELIAT. Well go, and be damned to you. [Pause] The women will take your places.

GIRARD. You think so, do you? You think it's as easy as that. Well, try. Just you try to fill up our places. Have you forgot there's two delegates here from the Central Committee? A phone to Paris and your bally show is done for.

FELIAT. It's damnable.

GIRARD. And if that doesn't choke you off, there's other things.

CHARPIN. We'll set the whole bloomin' place on fire.

GIRARD. Don't you try to bully us.

FELIAT. Well, look here. We won't quarrel. I'll send away Mademoiselle Therese. But give me a little time to settle things up.

CHARPIN. No; out she goes.

FELIAT. Give me a month. I ask only a month.

GIRARD. An hour, that's all you'll get, an hour.

CHARPIN. An hour, not more.

GIRARD. We're going off to meet the delegates at the Hotel de la Poste; you can send your answer there. The Parisian goes out sharp now, or else look out for trouble. Come on, boys, let's go and tell the others. There's nothing more to do here.

FELIAT. But stop, listen—

CHARPIN [to Feliat] That's our last word. [To the others] Hurry on.

The workmen go out. Therese has come in a moment before and is standing on the threshold.

FELIAT [to Therese] How much did you hear?

THERESE. Oh, please, please, don't give in. Don't abandon these women. It's dreadful in the workroom. They're in despair. I've just been with them, talking to them. They get desperate when they think of their children.

FELIAT. The men are not asking me now to get rid of them. What they're asking for is the break-up of your Union, and that you yourself should go.

THERESE. Oh, they say that now. But if you give in, they'll see that they can get anything they like from your weakness, and they'll make you turn out all these wretched women.

FELIAT. But I can't help myself! You didn't hear the brutal threats of these men. If I don't give in, I shall be blacklisted, and they'll set the place on fire; they said so. Where will your women's work be then? And I shall be ruined.

THERESE. Then you mean to give in without a struggle?

FELIAT. Would you like to take the responsibility for what will happen if I resist? There'll be violence. Just think what it'll mean. In the state the men are in anything may happen. There's a wounded man already. How many would there be to-morrow?

THERESE. You think only of being beaten. But suppose you win? Suppose you act energetically and get the best of it.

FELIAT. My energy would be my ruin.

THERESE [with a change of tone] Then you wish me to go?

FELIAT. I have only made up my mind to it to prevent something worse.

THERESE [very much moved] It's impossible you can sacrifice me in this way at the first threat. Look here, Monsieur Feliat; perhaps it doesn't come very well from me, but I can't help reminding you that you've said repeatedly yourself that I've been extremely useful to you. Don't throw me overboard without making one try to save me.

FELIAT. It would be no use.

THERESE. How can you tell? It's your own interest to keep me. The delegate said that if I go they'll break up the Women's Union and make the women take the same wages as the men.

FELIAT. They won't do that because they know I wouldn't keep them.

THERESE. You see! If you give in, it means the break-up of the whole thing and the loss to you of the saving I've made for you. And you have obligations to these women who have been working for you for years.

FELIAT. If I have to part with them, I will see they are provided for.

THERESE. Yes, for a day—a week, perhaps. But afterwards? What then? Little children will be holding out their hands for food to mothers who have none to give them.

FELIAT. But, good God, what have I to do with that? Is it my fault? Don't you see that I'm quite powerless in the matter?

THERESE. No, you're not quite powerless. You can choose which you will sacrifice, the women who have been perfectly loyal to you, or the men who want to wring from your weakness freedom from competition which frightens them.

FELIAT. They're fighting for their daily bread.

THERESE. Yes, fighting the woman because she works for lower wages. She can do that because she is sober and self-controlled. Is it because of her virtues that you condemn her?

FELIAT. I know all that as well as you do, and I tell you again the women can go on working just as they were working before you came.

THERESE. You'll be made to part with them.

FELIAT. We shall see. But at present that's not the question. The present thing is about you. One of us has to be sacrificed, you or me. I can see only one thing. If I stick to you, my machinery will be smashed and my works will be burned. I'm deeply sorry this has happened, and I don't deny for a moment the great value of your services; but, after all, I can't ruin myself for your sake.

THERESE [urgently] But you wouldn't be ruined. Defend yourself, take measures. Ask for assistance from the Government.

FELIAT. The Government can't prevent the strike.

THERESE. But the women will do the work.

FELIAT. You think of nothing but your women. And the men? They'll be starving, won't they? And their women and their children will starve with them.

THERESE [almost in tears] And me, you have no pity for me. What's to become of me? If you abandon me, I'm done for. I'd made a career for myself. I had realized my dreams. I was doing a little good. And I was so deeply grateful to you for giving me my chance. I'm all alone in the world, you know that very well. Before I came here I tried every possible way to earn my living. Oh, please don't send me away. Don't drive me back into that. Try once again, do something. Let me speak to the men. It's all my life that's at stake. If you drive me out, I don't know where to go to.

Monsieur Gueret comes in.

GUERET [greatly excited] Feliat, we mustn't wait a moment; we must give in at once. They're exciting themselves; they're mad; they're getting worse; they may do anything. They've gone to the women's workroom and they're driving them out.

From the adjoining workshop there comes a crash of glass and the sound of women screaming.

THERESE [desperately] Go, Monsieur! Go quickly! Don't let anything dreadful happen. You're right. I'll leave at once. Go!

Monsieur Gueret and Monsieur Feliat rush into the women's workshop. The noise increases; there is a sound of furniture overthrown and the loud screams of women.

THERESE [alone, clasping her hands] Oh, God! Oh, God!

Therese stands as if hypnotized by terror, her eyes wide open and fixed upon the door of the workshop. The noise still increases; there is a revolver shot, then a silence. Finally the voice of Monsieur Feliat is heard speaking, though the words are not intelligible, and a shout of men's voices. Then Monsieur Gueret comes in very pale.

GUERET. Don't be frightened, it's all over. The shot was fired in the air. The men have gone out; there are only the women now—crying in the workshop.

THERESE. Are you sure nobody is killed? Is it true, oh, tell me, is it really true?

Monsieur Feliat comes in.

FELIAT. Poor Therese! Don't be frightened.

THERESE. Oh, those screams! Those dreadful screams! Is it true, really, nobody was hurt?

FELIAT. Nobody, I assure you.

THERESE. The shot?

FELIAT. Fired in the air, to frighten the women. The men broke in the door, and upset a bench, and made a great row. I got there just in time. As soon as they were promised what they want they were quiet.

THERESE [after a pause, slowly] They were promised what they want. So it's done. [A silence] Then there's nothing left for me but to go.

GUERET. Where are you going to?

FELIAT. You needn't go at once.

THERESE. Yes, I'm going at once. [A silence] I'm going where I'm forced to go.

FELIAT. You can leave to-morrow or the day after.

THERESE. No, I leave by train, this evening, for Paris.

CURTAIN.



FALSE GODS

CHARACTERS

THE PHARAOH THE HIGH PRIEST RHEOU SATNI PAKH SOKITI BITIOU, the dwarf NOURM THE STEWARD THE EXORCIST A PRIEST THE PARALYZED YOUTH THE MAN WITH THE BANDAGED HEAD THE TWO SONS OF THE MAD WOMAN MIERIS YAOUMA KIRJIPA ZAYA DELETHI NAGAOU HANOU NAHASI SITSINIT MOUENE NAZIT THE YOUNG WOMAN THE MOTHER THE BLIND GIRL FIVE MOURNERS

The Scene is laid in Upper Egypt during the Middle Empire.



ACT I

SCENE:—The first inner court of the house of Rheou. At the back between two lofty pylons the entrance leading up from below. Through the columns supporting the hanging garden which stretches across the back can be seen the Nile. A high terrace occupies the left of the scene. Steps lead up to it, and from there to the hanging garden. Along the side of the terrace a small delicately carved wooden statue of Isis stands on a sacrificial table. On the right is the peristyle leading to the inner dwelling of Akhounti. The bases of the columns are in the form of lotus buds, the shafts like lotus stems, the capitals full blown flowers. In the spaces between the columns are wooden statues of the gods.

Delethi is playing a harp. Nagaou dances before her. Nahasi is juggling with oranges, while Mouene sits watching a little bird in a cage. Yaouma reclines on the terrace supporting her head on her elbows and gazing out at the Nile. Zaya is beside her. On a carpet Sitsinit, lying flat upon her stomach with a writing box by her side, is busy painting an ibis on the left hand of Hanou, who lies in a similar attitude.

SITSI. Did you not know? She, on whose left hand a black ibis has been painted, is certain of a happy day.

HANOU. A happy day! Why then, 'tis I, perhaps, who will be chosen to-night!

DELETHI [playing the harp while Nagaou dances before her] More slowly!—more slowly!... you must make them think of the swaying of a lotus flower, that the Nile's slow-moving current would bear away, and that raises itself to kiss again the waters of the stream.

NAGAOU. Yes, yes.... Begin again!

NAHASI [juggling with oranges] Nagaou would let herself be borne away without a struggle. [She laughs].

MOUENE [hopping on one foot] We know that she goes to the bank of the Nile, at the hour when the palm-trees grow black against the evening sky, to listen to a basket maker's songs.

HANOU [to Sitsinit] And this morning I anointed my whole body with Kyphli, mixed with cinnamon and terrabine and myrrh.

DELETHI [to Nagaou] 'Tis well ... you may dance the great prayer to Isis with the rest.

NAGAOU [to Mouene] Yes! I do go to listen to songs at dark. You are still too little for anyone, basket maker or any other, to take notice of you.

MOUENE. You think so!... who gave me this little bird? [She draws the bird from the cage by a string attached to its leg] Who caught thee, flower-of-the-air, who gave thee to me? [Holding up a finger] Do not tell! Do not tell....

HANOU [looking at herself in a metal mirror] Sitsinit ... the black line that lengthens this eye is too short ... make it longer with your reed. I think the more beautiful I am, the more chance I shall have to be chosen for the sacrifice.... Is it not so, Zaya?... What are you doing there without a word?

ZAYA. I was watching the flight of a crane with hanging feet, that melted away in the distant blue of heaven.... Do not hope to be chosen by the gods, Hanou.

HANOU. Wherefore should I not be chosen?

ZAYA. Neither you nor any who are here. The gods never demand the sacrifice two years together from the same village.

HANOU. Never?

ZAYA. Rarely.

HANOU. 'Tis a pity. Is it not, Nagaou?

NAGAOU. I know not.

SITSI. Would it not make you proud?

NAGAOU. Yes. But it makes me proud, too, to lean on the breast of him whose words still the beating of my heart.

DELETHI. To be taken by a god! By the Nile!

HANOU. Preferred to all the others!

MOUENE [the youngest] For my part I should prefer to live....

SITSI. Still, if the God desired you....

ZAYA. Oh! one can refuse....

DELETHI. Yes, but one must leave the country, then.... None of the daughters of Haka-Phtah could bring themselves to that.

A pause.

YAOUMA [to herself] Perhaps!

NAHASI. What do you say, Yaouma?

YAOUMA. Nothing. I was speaking to my soul.

MOUENE. Yaouma's eyes weep for weariness because they watch far off for him, who comes not.

YAOUMA. Peace, child.

ZAYA [to Delethi] One thing is certain, someone must go upon the sacred barge?

DELETHI. Without the sacrifice the Nile would not overflow, and all the land would remain barren.

HANOU. And the corn would not sprout, nor the beans, nor the maize, nor the lotus.

DELETHI. And all the people would perish miserably.

HANOU. So that she who dies, sacrificed to the Nile, saves the lives of a whole people. That is a better thing, Nagaou, than to make one man's happiness.

A pause.

YAOUMA [to herself] Perhaps.

HANOU. And on the appointed day one is borne from the house of the god to the Nile, surrounded by all the dwellers in the town.... The Pharaoh—health and strength be unto him!...

DELETHI. You do not know, Hanou, you tell us what you do not know.

HANOU. But it is so, is it not, Zaya? Zaya knows about the ceremony, because last year it was her sister who was chosen.

MOUENE. Tell us, Zaya.

NAHASI. Yes, tell us the manner of it.

ZAYA. On the fifth day of the month of Paophi....

MOUENE. To-day—that is to-day?

NAHASI. Yes. What will happen.... The prayer of Isis.... But afterwards? Before?

They gather round Zaya.

ZAYA. Before the sun has ended his day's journey, the people, summoned to the terraces by a call from the Temple, will intone the great hymn to Isis, which is sung but once a year. Within the house of the god the assembled priests will await the sign that shall reveal the virgin to be offered to the Nile to obtain its yearly flood. The name of the chosen will be cried from the doorway on high, caught up by those who hear it first, cried out to others, who in turn will cry it running towards the house that Ammon has favored with his choice. Then shall the happy victim of the year stand forth alone, amid her kinsfolk bowed before her, and to her ears shall rise the shoutings of the multitude.

ALL. Oh!

DELETHI. And after a month of purification she will be borne to the house of the god!

ZAYA. And on the day of Prodigies....

NAHASI. Oh, the day of Prodigies!

ZAYA. She will be the foremost nearer to the Sanctuary than all the rest. She will pray with the praying crowd, she will behold the lowering of the stone that hides the face of Isis....

DELETHI. She will behold Isis—face to face....

ALL. Oh!

ZAYA. She will beg the goddess graciously to incline her head, in sign that, yet another year, Egypt shall be protected. And when the fervor of the crowd's united prayer is great enough, the head of the Goddess of Stone will bow. That will be the first prodigy.

DELETHI. The head of the Goddess of Stone will bow—that will be the first prodigy.

ZAYA. And in the crowd there will be blind who shall see, and deaf who shall hear, and dumb who shall speak.

DELETHI. Perhaps Mieris, our good mistress, will be cured of her blindness at last.

HANOU. And when she who is chosen goes forth from the house of the God.... Tell us, Zaya, tell us the manner of her going forth.

ZAYA. Three days before the appointed day, in the town and throughout the land, they will begin the preparations for the festival. When the moment comes, the crowd will surge before the temple, guarded by Lybian soldiers. And she, she, the elect, the saviour, will come forth, ringed by the high priests of Ammon in purple and in gold, and aloft on a chariot where perfumes burn, deafened by sound of trumpet and cries of joy, she will behold the people stretch unnumbered arms to her....

ALL. Oh!

DELETHI. And she will be borne to the Nile....

ZAYA. And she will be borne to the Nile. She will board the barge of Ammon....

DELETHI. And the barge will glide from the bank....

ZAYA. And the barge will glide from the bank where all the crowd will bow their faces to the dust. [She stops, greatly moved] And when the barge returns she will be gone.

ALL [in low tones] And when the barge returns she will be gone.

ZAYA. And after two days the waters of the Nile will rise.

ALL. The waters of the Nile will rise....

DELETHI. And as far as the waters flow they will speak her name, who made the sacrifice, with blessings and with tears.

HANOU. If it were I!...

ALL [save Yaouma] If it were I!...

Yaouma rises to a sitting posture.

ZAYA. If it were you, Yaouma?

YAOUMA. Perhaps I should refuse.

ALL. Oh!

MOUENE [mischievously] I know why! I know why!

DELETHI. We know why.

ZAYA. Tell us....

YAOUMA. Tell them....

DELETHI. 'Tis the same reason that has held you there this many a day.

YAOUMA. Yes.

MOUENE. She watches for the coming of the galley with twenty oars, bearing the travellers from the North. There is a young priest among them, the potter's son.

DELETHI. A young priest, the potter's son, who went away two years ago.

YAOUMA. He is my betrothed.

NAHASI. But you know what they say?

ZAYA. They say that on the same boat there comes a scribe who preaches of new gods....

YAOUMA. I know.

DELETHI. Of false gods.

MOUENE. The priests will stop the boat, and eight days hence, perhaps, Yaouma will still be awaiting her betrothed.

YAOUMA. I shall wait.

The Steward enters and whispers to Delethi.

DELETHI. The mistress sends word the hour is come to go indoors.

They go out L, Sitsinit picking up the writing box, Nahasi juggling with oranges, Mouene carrying her cage and dancing about, Delethi plays her harp singing with Hanou and Nagaou.

Black is the hair of my love, More black than the brows of the night, Than the fruit of the plum tree.

The Steward, who had gone out, returns at once, whip in hand, followed by a poor old man, half naked, and covered with mud, who carries a hod.

STEWARD [stopping before the statue of Thoueris] There. Draw near, potter, and look. By some mischance, the horn and the plume of Goddess Thoueris have been broken. The master must not see them when he comes back for the feast of the Nomination. There is the horn—there is the plume. Replace them.

PAKH [with terror] I—must I ... to-day when my son is coming home?

STEWARD. Are you not our servant?

PAKH. I am.

STEWARD. And a potter?

PAKH. I am.

STEWARD. Did you not say you knew how to do what I ask?

PAKH. I did not know that I must lay hands on the Goddess Thoueris.

STEWARD. Obey.

PAKH [throwing himself on his knees] I pray you! I pray you ... I should never dare. And then ... my son ... my son who is coming back from a long, long journey....

STEWARD. You shall have twenty blows of the stick for having tired my tongue. If you refuse to obey me you shall have two hundred.

PAKH. I pray you.

STEWARD. Bid Sokiti help you.

He goes out at the back; as he passes he gives Sokiti a blow with his whip, making a sign to him to go and join Pakh.

Sokiti obeys without manifesting sorrow or surprise.

PAKH. He says we must lift down the Goddess.

SOKITI. I?

PAKH. You and I.

SOKITI [beginning to tremble. After a pause] I am afraid.

PAKH. I too—I am afraid.

SOKITI. If you touch her you die.

PAKH. You will die of the stick if you do not obey.

SOKITI. Why cannot they leave me at my work. I was happy.

PAKH. We must—we must tell her that it is in order to repair her crown.

SOKITI. Yes. We must let her know.

They prostrate themselves before the goddess.

PAKH. Oh, Mighty One!—thou who hast given birth to the gods, pardon if our miserable hands dare to touch thee! Thy horn and thy right plume have fallen off. 'Tis to replace them.

SOKITI. We are forced to obey—O breath divine—creator of the universe.... It is to mend thee.

PAKH [rising, to Sokiti] Come!

Bitiou, the dwarf, enters; he is a poor deformed creature. When he sees Pakh and Sokiti touching the statue, he tries to run away. He falls, picks himself up, and hides in a corner. By degrees he watches and draws near during what follows. Pakh and Sokiti take the statue from its pedestal and set it upright on the ground.

SOKITI. She has not said anything.

PAKH. She must be laid on her belly.

SOKITI. Gently....

They lay her flat.

PAKH [giving him the horn] Hold that. [He goes to his hod, takes a handful of cement, and proceeds to mend the statue] Here ... the plume ... so ... there ... we must let her dry. In the meantime let us go look upon the Nile; we may see the boat that brings my son.

SOKITI. You will not see him.

PAKH. I shall not see him?

SOKITI. He is a priest.

PAKH. Not yet.

SOKITI. But he was brought up in the temple ... 'tis to the temple he will go.

PAKH. He will come here ... because he would see his father and mother once more.

SOKITI. And Yaouma his betrothed.

PAKH. And Yaouma his betrothed.

He goes R. Bitiou approaches the statue timidly, and stops some way off.

SOKITI. There is nothing in sight.

PAKH. No.... [suddenly] You saw the crocodile?

SOKITI. Yes.... There is a woman going to the Nile with her pitcher on her head.

PAKH. That is my wife, that is Kirjipa, that is mine. She seeks with her eyes the boat that bears her son—Satni.

SOKITI. She is going into the stream.

PAKH. How else can she draw clear water?

SOKITI. But at the very spot where the crocodile plunged.

PAKH. What matter? She wears the feather of an ibis ... and I know a magic spell. [He begins to chant] Back, son of Sitou! Dare not! Seize not! Open not thy jaws! Let the water become a sheet of flame before thee! The spell of thirty-seven gods is in thine eye. Thou art bound, thou art bound! Stay, son of Sitou! Ammon, spouse of thy mother, protect her!

SOKITI [without surprise] It is gone.

PAKH [without surprise] It could not do otherwise.

Bitiou, now close to the statue, touches it furtively with a finger tip, then runs, falls, and picks himself up. He comes up to Pakh and Sokiti.

SOKITI [pointing to the statue] She is dry now, perhaps?

PAKH. Yes, come.

SOKITI. I am afraid still.

PAKH. So am I, but come and help me.

They replace the statue on its pedestal, then step back to look at it.

SOKITI. She has done us no harm.

PAKH. No.

SOKITI. Ha! ha!

PAKH. Ha! ha! ha! ha! [Bitiou laughs with them. A distant sound of trumpets is heard. Sokiti and Pakh go to the terrace to look] It is the chief of the Nome. They are bearing him to the city of the dead. At this moment his soul is before the tribunal, where Osiris sits with the two and forty judges.

SOKITI. May they render unto him all the evil he has done!...

PAKH. The evil he has done will be rendered unto him a thousand fold.... He will pass first into the lake of fire.

SOKITI [laughing] Pakh! Pakh! picture him in Amenti—in the hidden place—

PAKH. I see him ... the pivot of the gate of Amenti set upon his eye, turns upon his right eye, and turns on that eye whether in opening or in shutting, and his mouth utters loud cries.

SOKITI [doubling up with delight] And he who ate so much!... He who ate so much! He will have his food, bread and water, hung above his head, and he will leap to get it down, whilst others will dig holes beneath his feet to prevent his touching it.

PAKH. Because his crimes are found to outnumber his merits....

SOKITI. And we—we—say—what will happen to us?

PAKH. We shall be found innocent by the two and forty judges.

SOKITI. And after?—after?

PAKH. We shall go to the island of the souls—in Amenti—

SOKITI. Yes, where there will be.... Speak. What shall we have in the island of the souls?

PAKH. Baths of clear water....

SOKITI [with loud laughter] What else ... what else?

PAKH. Ears of corn of two arms' length.... [Laughing].

SOKITI [laughing] Yes, ears of corn, of two arms' length.

PAKH. And bread of maize, and beans....

SOKITI. And blows of the stick—say, will there be blows of the stick?

PAKH. Never again.

SOKITI. Never again....

PAKH. I shall forget all I have endured.

SOKITI. I shall be famished; and I shall be able to eat until my hunger is gone ... every day!

BITIOU. And I—I shall be tall, with straight strong legs, like the rest of the world.

PAKH. That will be better than having been prince on the earth.

They laugh. The Steward appears.

STEWARD. What are you doing there? [Striking them with the whip] Your mistress comes! Begone!

They go out.

The Steward bows low before Mieris who is blind, and who enters with her arms full of flowers and led by Yaouma.

The Steward retires.

MIERIS [gently] Leave me, Yaouma—I shall be able to find my way to her, alone.

YAOUMA. Yes mistress.... [Nevertheless, she goes with her noiselessly].

MIERIS [smiling] I can feel you do not obey. Be not afraid. [She has come as far as the little statue of Isis] You see, I do not lose my way. I have come every day to bring her flowers, a long, long time.... Leave me.

YAOUMA. Yes, mistress.

She withdraws.

MIERIS [touching the statue in the manner of the blind] Yes, thou art Isis. I know thy face, and I can guess thy smile. [She takes some of the flowers which she has laid beside her and lays them one by one on the pedestal of the statue] Behold my daily offering! I know this for a white lotus flower. It is for thee. I am not wrong, this one, longer, and with the heavier scent, is the pink lotus. It is for thee. And here are yet two more of these sacred flowers. At dawn, they come from out the water, little by little. At midday they open wide. And when the sun sinks they, too, hide themselves, letting the waters of the Nile cover them like a veil. Men say they are fair to see. Alas, I know not the beauty of the gifts I bring! Here is a typha ... here an alisma; and by the overpowering perfume, this, I know, is the acacia flower. I have had them tell me how the light, playing through the filmy petals, tints them with color sweet unto the eyes. May the sight gladden thine! I know not the beauty of the gifts I bring! But all the days of my life, a suppliant I shall come, and weary not to ply thee with my prayers, until in the end thou absolve me, until thou grant me the boon that all save I enjoy, to behold the rays of the shining God, of Ammon-Ra, the Sun divine. O Isis, remember the cruel blow that did befall me! I had a little child. Unto him sight was given, and when he first could speak, it was life's sweetest joy, to hear him tell the color and the form of things. He is dead, Isis! And I have never seen him—Take thou my tears and my prayer, bid this perpetual night, wherein I scarce can breathe, to cease—And if thou wilt not, deliver me to death—She-who-loves-the-silence, and after the judgment I may go to Amenti, and find my well-beloved child—find him, and there at last behold his face. Isis, I give thee all these flowers. [She rises] Come, Yaouma. [As she is about to go, she stops, suddenly radiant] Stay—I hear—yes! Go, bring the ewer and the lustral water. It is the master—He is here.

Yaouma goes out, but returns quickly. Enter Rheou.

MIERIS. Be welcome unto your house, master!

Yaouma pours water over the hands of Rheou and gives him a towel.

RHEOU. Gladly I greet you once more in your house, mistress! [Pakh appears, returning to look for his hod] [To Pakh] Well! potter, do you not go to meet your son?

PAKH. I would fain go, master, but I looked upon the Nile a while ago; there is nothing in sight.

RHEOU. The galley came last night at dusk, and, by order of the priests, was kept at the bend of the river till now. Go!

PAKH. I thank you, master.

He goes out.

RHEOU. Is all made ready for the solemn prayer to Isis? The Sun is nearing the horizon.

MIERIS. Yaouma, go and warn them all.

YAOUMA [kneeling in supplication] Mistress—

MIERIS [laying her hand on Yaouma's head] What is it?

YAOUMA. The galley.

MIERIS. Well?—Ah, yes! you were betrothed to the potter's son—But to-day you must not go forth. Who shall say you are not she whom the God Ammon will choose?

YAOUMA. The God Ammon knows not me.

MIERIS. Did he choose you, he must know you.

YAOUMA. Me! Me! A poor handmaiden—Is it then possible—truly?

MIERIS. Truly—Yaouma, go.

YAOUMA [to herself as she goes] The God Ammon—the God of Gods—

MIERIS. Rheou, what ails you?

RHEOU [angered] It was a fresh insult that awaited me—

MIERIS. Insult?

RHEOU. When I came into the audience chamber I prostrated myself before the Pharaoh. "What would you?" he cried in that hard voice of his. You know 'tis the custom to make no reply, that one may seem half dead with fear before his majesty—

MIERIS. Did you not so?

RHEOU. I did, but he—

MIERIS. Have a care! Is no one there who might overhear you?

RHEOU. No one—but he, in place of ordering them to raise me up, in place of bidding me speak—Oh, the dog of an Ethiopian!—he feigned not to see me—for a long while, a long, long while—At length, when he remembered I was there, anger was choking me; he saw it; he declared an evil spirit was in me, and having ridiculed me with his pity, he bade me then withdraw. He forgets that if I wished—

MIERIS. Be still! Be still! Know you not that there, beside you, are the Gods who hear you!

RHEOU [derisively] Oh! the Gods!

MIERIS. What mean you?

RHEOU [derisively] I am the son of a high priest; I know the Gods—The Pharaoh forgets that were I to remind the people of my father's services, were I to arm all those who work for me, and let them loose against him—

MIERIS. Rheou! Rheou!

RHEOU. Think you they would not obey me? I am son of that high priest, the Pharaoh's friend who wished to replace the Gods of Egypt, by one only God. The court cannot forgive me for that. Little they dream, that were I to declare my father had appeared to me, all those who know me, all the poor folk whose backs are blistered by the tax-gatherer's whip, all who are terrorized by schemes of foreign war—all, all would take my orders as inspired, divine.

MIERIS. The fear of the Gods would hold them back.

RHEOU. How long—I wonder!

MIERIS. I hear them coming for the prayer.

RHEOU. Yes. Let us pray—that they may have nothing to reproach me with before I choose my hour.

MIERIS. What hour?

RHEOU. Could I but realize the work my father dreamed of—and at the same stroke be avenged—avenged for all the humiliations—

MIERIS. Be silent—I hear—

The singers and the dancers and all the women and servants come on gradually.

RHEOU [going to the terrace] The sun is not yet down upon the hill. But look—upon the Nile—see, Yaouma! 'tis the galley that bears your betrothed.

YAOUMA. 'Tis there! 'Tis there!—See—it has stopped—they take the mallet, and drive in the stake. The boat's prow is aground. Now they have prayed—they disembark. Look, there is the strange scribe!

RHEOU [looking] A stranger—he—I do not think it.

YAOUMA. I thought, from his garments, perhaps—

Pakh returns.

RHEOU. Did you not wait for your son?

PAKH [terrified] Master, on the road that leads to the Nile, I beheld two dead scarabs—

RHEOU. None, then, save the High Priest, may pass till the road be purified.

PAKH. I have warned the travellers they must go a long way round.

RHEOU. Did you not recognize your son?

PAKH. No, he will be among the last to land, perhaps.

YAOUMA. But look—look! Behold that man—the stranger who comes this way alone—Pakh! where were they, Pakh—the scarabs?

PAKH. Near to the fig tree.

YAOUMA [terrified] He is about to pass them—Oh! He does not know—[Relieved] Ah! at last, they warn him.

RHEOU. He stays.

YAOUMA. Near to the fig tree, said you! But he is going on—He moves—he comes—He is past them—[To Mieris] Come, mistress, come! Oh Ammon! Ammon!

Hiding her face she leads Mieris quickly away.

RHEOU. 'Tis to our gates he comes—he is here.

Satni enters.

SATNI [bowing before Rheou] Rheou, I salute you!

RHEOU. What do I behold! Satni—'tis you—

PAKH. My son!

SATNI [kneeling] Father!

PAKH. 'Twas you!—you, who came that way, despite the scarabs?

SATNI. It was I.

PAKH. You know then some magic words, I do not doubt; but I—I who saw them—I must needs go purify myself before the prayer—to-day is the feast of the Nomination—did you know?

SATNI. I knew—and Yaouma?

PAKH. She is here—in a little you shall see her.

RHEOU. Satni!

SATNI. You called me?

RHEOU. Yes. Did not you see the two scarabs that lay upon your path?

SATNI. I saw them.

RHEOU. And you did not stop?

SATNI. No.

RHEOU. Why?

SATNI. I have learned many things in the countries whence I come.

RHEOU. You are a priest. Was not your duty to go unto the temple, even before you knelt at your father's feet?

SATNI. Never again shall I enter the temple.

A long trumpet call is heard far off.

RHEOU. It is the signal for the prayer.

He mounts the terrace and stretches his arms to the setting sun. Women play upon the harp and upon drums, and the double flute. Others clash cymbals and shake the sistrum. Dancers advance, slowly swaying their bodies. The rest mark the rhythm by the beating of hands.

Music.

RHEOU. O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy name.

ALL [murmuring] O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy name.

RHEOU. O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the destroying winds, and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of time.

ALL [murmuring] O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the destroying winds, and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of time.

RHEOU. O Isis! preserve us.

ALL [murmuring] O Isis! preserve us.

RHEOU. By the three times thy name is spoken.

ALL [murmuring] By the three times thy name is spoken.

RHEOU. Both here, and there, and there.

ALL [murmuring] Both here, and there, and there.

RHEOU. And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as long as our temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.

ALL [murmuring] And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as long as our temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.

RHEOU. Isis!

ALL [murmuring] Isis!

RHEOU. Isis!

ALL [murmuring] Isis!

RHEOU. Isis!

ALL [murmuring] Isis!

All prostrate themselves save the singers and the dancers.

RHEOU. We beseech thee, Ammon! Deign to make known the virgin who will be offered to the Nile. Ammon, deign to make her known!

ALL [murmuring] Deign to make her known.

The music stops. A long pause in silence. Then far off a trumpet call.

RHEOU. Rise! The God has made his choice.

All rise, and begin chattering and laughing gaily.

RHEOU [to Satni] You, alone, did not pray, and stood the while. Wherefore?

SATNI. I have come from a land where I learned wisdom.

RHEOU. You!—You who were to be priest of Ammon!

SATNI. I shall never be priest of Ammon.

VOICES. Listen! Listen!—The name! They begin to cry the name!

The distant sound of voices is heard. Every one in the scene save Satni is listening intently.

RHEOU. The name! The name!

He mounts the terrace. The setting sun reddens the heavens.

SATNI [to Yaouma] At last I find you again, Yaouma. And you wear still the chain of maidenhood. You have waited for me?

YAOUMA. Yes, Satni, I have waited for you.

SATNI. The memory of you went with me always.

YAOUMA. Listen!—[Distant sound of voices].

A WOMAN. Methinks 'tis Raouit of the next village.

A MAN. No! No! 'Tis not that name.

SATNI [to Yaouma] What matter their cries to you. Have you forgot our promises?

YAOUMA. No—Listen!—[Voices nearer].

A WOMAN. 'Tis Amterra! 'Tis Amterra!

ANOTHER. No! 'Tis Hihourr!

ANOTHER. No! Amterra lives the other way.

ANOTHER. One can hear nothing clearly now.

ANOTHER. They are passing behind the palm grove.

SATNI [to Yaouma] Answer me—you have ears only for their clamor—I love you, Yaouma.

A VOICE. They are coming! They are coming!

ANOTHER. Then 'tis Karma, of the next house.

ANOTHER. No! 'tis Hene. Ahou, I tell you—or Karma! Karma!

SATNI [to Yaouma] Have you, then, ceased to love me?

YAOUMA [distracted] No, no, I love you—Satni—but I seem to hear my name amid the cries—

SATNI. Let them cry your name—I will watch over you.

YAOUMA. Oh, Satni! If the God have chosen me?

SATNI. What God? It is the priests who make him speak.

The sounds come nearer.

A VOICE. 'Tis Yaouma! they come here! Quick, quick, let us do them honor on their coming.

ANOTHER. No!

ANOTHER. Yes!

ANOTHER. 'Tis she!

ANOTHER. No!

ANOTHER. Yes! yes! Yaouma!

SATNI [to Yaouma] Do not be fooled. The God is but a stone.

YAOUMA [who no longer listens] I have heard. It is my name—my name!

A VOICE. They are coming!—

ANOTHER. They are here!

Every one begins to go out.

ANOTHER [going] 'Tis Yaouma!

Loud shouts without—"'Tis Yaouma—'Tis Yaouma—"

STEWARD [to Rheou] Master, it is Yaouma.

RHEOU. Go, as 'tis custom, let all go forth to meet those who come.

All go out save Yaouma and Satni.

SATNI. 'Tis you—

YAOUMA [radiant] 'Tis I!

SATNI. You may refuse.

YAOUMA. And leave Egypt—

SATNI. We will leave it together.

YAOUMA. 'Tis I! Think of it, Satni! The God, out of all my companions, the God has chosen me!

SATNI. Do not stay here. Come with me.

YAOUMA [listening] Yes—yes—You hear them? It is I!

SATNI. You are going to refuse!

YAOUMA [with a radiant smile] You would love me no longer, if I refused.

SATNI. But know you not, it is death?

YAOUMA [in ecstasy] Yes, Satni, it is death!

SATNI. You are mine—You are plighted to me—Come—Come!

YAOUMA. Satni—Satni—you would not have me refuse?

SATNI. I would. I love you.

YAOUMA. Refuse to answer the call of the Gods.

SATNI. The call of the Gods is death.

YAOUMA. The God has chosen me, before all he has preferred me. He has preferred me to those who are fairer, to those who are richer. And I should hide myself!

SATNI. It is out of pride then that you would die?

YAOUMA. I die to bring the flooding of the Nile—to make fertile all the Egyptian fields. If I answer not to the voices that call me, my name will be a byword wherever the rays of the sun-God fall. Another than I will go clothed in the dazzling robe. Another will hear the shouting of the multitude. Another will be given to the Nile.

SATNI. Another will die, and you, you will live, for your own joy and for mine.

YAOUMA. For my own shame and for yours.

SATNI. Light the world with your beauty. Live, Yaouma, live with me! Bright shall your breast be with the flower of the persea, and your tresses anointed heavy with sweet odor.

YAOUMA. The waves of the Nile will be my head-dress. Oh! fair green robe, with flowers yet more fair.

SATNI. Yaouma, you loved me—[She bends her head] Remember, remember my going away, but two years since, how you did weep when I embarked. You ran by the bank, you followed the boat that bore me. I see you still, the slim form, the swift lank limbs; I can hear still the sound of your little naked feet upon the sand. And when the boat grounded—do you remember? For hours the oarsmen pushed with long poles, singing the while, and you clapping your hands and crying out my name. And when at length we floated, there was laughter and cries of joy—but you, you did stand all on a sudden still, and I knew then that you wept. You climbed to a hillock, and you waved your arms, you grew smaller, smaller, smaller, till we turned by a cluster of palms. Oh, how you promised to wait for me!

YAOUMA. Have I not waited?

SATNI. We had chosen the place to build our home. Do you remember?

YAOUMA. Yes.

SATNI. And dreamed of nights when you should sleep with your head upon my breast—[Yaouma bends her head] And now you seek a grave in the slime of the river.

YAOUMA [with fervor] The slime of the river is holy, the river is holy. The Nile is nine times holy. It makes grow the pasture that feeds our flocks. It drinks the tears of all our eyes.

SATNI. Listen, Yaouma, I will reveal the truth to you. The Gods who claim your sacrifice—the Gods are false.

YAOUMA. The Gods are true—

SATNI. They are powerless.

YAOUMA. It is their power that subdues me—it is stronger than love. Until to-day I loved you more than all the living things upon the earth—the breath of your mouth alone gave life to my heart. Even this very day, I dreaded being chosen of the Gods. But now, who has so utterly transformed me if it be not the Gods? You are to me as nothing, now. And I who trembled at a scorpion, who wept at the pricking of a thorn, I am all joy at the thought of dying soon. How could this be if the Gods had not willed it?

SATNI. Hear me a little—and I can prove to you—

YAOUMA. No words can take away the glory of being chosen by the Gods.

SATNI. By the priests.

YAOUMA. 'Tis the same, the priests are the voice of the Gods.

SATNI. 'Tis they who say so. The Gods of Egypt exist only because men have invented them.

YAOUMA. The peoples from whose lands you come have made you lose your reason. [With a smile of pity] Say that our Gods exist not! Think, Satni!

SATNI. Neither the Gods, nor the happy fields, nor the world to come, nor hell.

YAOUMA. Ah! Ah! I will prove you mad—you say there is no hell—But we know, we know that it exists, look there! [Pointing to the sunset] When the sun grows red at evening, is it not because the glow of hell is thrown upon it from below? You have but to open your eyes. [Laughing] The Gods not exist!

SATNI. They do not. In the sanctuaries of our temples is nothing save beasts, unclean, absurd, and lifeless images; believe me, Yaouma—I love you—I will not see you die. Your sacrifice is useless. Not because you are offered up will the waters of the Nile rise! Refuse, hide yourself, the waters will still rise. Ah, to lose you for a lie! To lose you—you! How can I convince you?—I know! Yaouma, you saw me cross the dead scarabs on my path. And yet I live! Oh! it angers me to see my words move you not. Your reason, your reason! Awaken your reason—

YAOUMA. I am listening to my heart.

SATNI. I will save you in spite of you—I will keep you by force—

YAOUMA. If you do, I shall hate you—

SATNI. What matter I shall have saved you.

YAOUMA. And I shall kill myself.

SATNI [seizing her] Will you not understand! The God-bull, the God-hippopotamus, the God-jackal—they are naught but idols!

YAOUMA. My father worshipped them.

Every one comes back. Rheou, who during all the preceding scene was hidden behind a pillar, goes to meet them.

SOME MEN. Yaouma! Yaouma!

ANOTHER. Up to the terrace!

OTHERS. Up to the terrace! Let her go up to the terrace!

ANOTHER. And let her lift her arms to heaven!

ANOTHER. Let her show that she will give herself to the Nile.

SATNI [to Yaouma] Stay! Stay with me! Then together—

YAOUMA [in ecstasy] He has chosen me from among all others!

ALL. Yaouma!

SATNI. She has refused! She has refused! And I will take her away.

ALL. No! No! To the terrace! The prayer! The prayer!

RHEOU. Yaouma, go and pray.

SATNI. She has refused!

MIERIS. Choose, Yaouma, between our Gods and a man.

RHEOU. Between the glory of sacrifice—

SATNI. Between falsehood and me, Yaouma—

YAOUMA. The God has called me to save my brothers!

SATNI. You are going to death!

YAOUMA. To life—the real life—the life with the Gods. [Going to the terrace].

SATNI. They lie!

YAOUMA. Peace!

SATNI. In spite of you, I will save you. [Yaouma goes up the stairway leading to the terrace. Satni stands on a bench and shouts to the crowd] Hear me, my brothers, I know of better Gods, of Gods who ask for no victims—

THE PEOPLE. They are false Gods!

SATNI. They are better Gods—

STEWARD. Rheou! Rheou! bid him cease!

RHEOU. No—let him speak.

SATNI. I come to save you from error, to overthrow the idols, to teach you eternal truths—

An immense shout of acclamation drowns the rest of Satni's words, as Yaouma, who has appeared on the terrace above, stands with her arms raised to the setting sun. Mieris kneels and crosses her hands in prayer.

CURTAIN



ACT II

SCENE: Same as Act I.

Rheou discovered alone. After a few moments the Steward enters through the gates.

RHEOU. What have you seen?

STEWARD. The preparations for the festival continue.

RHEOU. At the Temple?

STEWARD. At the Temple.

RHEOU. For the Feast of Prodigies?

STEWARD. For the Feast of Prodigies.

RHEOU. And the priests believe they can celebrate it to-morrow?

STEWARD. I have seen no reason to doubt of it.

RHEOU. Without Yaouma?

STEWARD. I do not know.

RHEOU. You are mistaken perhaps. Did you go down as far as the Nile?

STEWARD. Yes, master.

RHEOU. Well?

STEWARD. They have finished the decoration of the sacred barge.

RHEOU. I do not understand it.

STEWARD. Nor I, for I know that a certain number of the soldiers have refused to renew the attempt of yesterday—

RHEOU. They have refused?

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. What did they say?

STEWARD. That they were afraid.

RHEOU. Of what—of whom?

STEWARD. Of Satni.

RHEOU. Of Satni?

STEWARD. Yes. They say it was he who caused the miracle of yesterday.

RHEOU. What—what do they say? Their words—tell me?

STEWARD. That it was he—

RHEOU. He, Satni?—

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. Who caused the miracle of yesterday?

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. The miracle that prevented them from carrying out the order of the High Priest?

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. The order to come here and seize Yaouma?

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. So that is what they say?

STEWARD. Every one says it.

RHEOU [after some reflection] Come, it is time you learned the truth, that you may repeat it all. In the countries whither he went Satni learned many things—great things. Come hither, lend your ear. He declares there be other gods than the gods of Egypt—and more powerful. If you remember, my father and the Pharaoh Amenotep likewise declared this, and would have made these gods known to us. How they were frustrated you know. It seems—for my own part I know not, 'tis Satni says so, ceaselessly, these two months since his return—it seems then, the time is come when these Gods would make them known to us. They have endowed Satni with superhuman power. That I know, and none may doubt it now. Satni is resolved to keep his betrothed, and the Lybian Guards were not deceived, it was he who yesterday called down the thunder and the floods from Heaven upon the soldiers sent here to seize Yaouma.

STEWARD. The oldest remember but one such prodigy.

RHEOU. What I have told you, tell to all; and this, besides, say to them: each time that any would cross the will of Satni—they who dare the attempt will be scattered, even as the guards were scattered yesterday. Add this, that Satni is guided by the spirit of the dead Pharaoh, that I last night beheld my father's spirit, and that great events will come to pass in Egypt.

STEWARD. I shall tell them.

RHEOU. Behold, the envoy of the new gods! Leave me to speak with him. Go, repeat my words.

The Steward goes out.

Satni enters from the back. Rheou prostrates himself before Satni.

SATNI [looking behind him] Before which God do you still bow down?

RHEOU. Before you. If you be not a God, you are the spirit of a God.

SATNI. I do not understand your words.

RHEOU. Who can call down thunderbolts from heaven, unless he be an envoy of the Gods?

SATNI. I am no—

RHEOU. 'Tis well, 'tis well. You would have us blind to your power of working miracles. After yesterday you can hide it no more. Henceforth, Satni, you must no longer confine your teaching to Mieris, to me, to your parents, Yaouma, to a few—henceforth you may speak to all, all ears are opened by this miracle.

SATNI. Let us leave that! I pray you rise and tell me rather what has befallen Yaouma.

RHEOU. Yaouma!—Did she not at first interpret the thunderclap as sign of the wrath of Ammon against her?

SATNI. She believes still in Ammon, then, despite all I have said to her.

RHEOU. Happily I undeceived her. I made her understand that 'twas you the elements obeyed, that the thunder that frighted her, was but a sign of your power.

SATNI. Why should you lie to her?

RHEOU. It was not wholly lying. Besides, it was fortunate I could thus explain the event. Had you but seen her—

SATNI. All my efforts of these two months past, in vain!

RHEOU. You remember when you left us yesterday. You might have thought that all her superstitions were banished at last. She no longer answered you, she questioned you no more, and at your last words her silence confirmed the belief that at length you had won her away from Ammon. Yet after you were gone, at the moment of entering her hiding place, she was swept with sudden fury as though an evil spirit had entered her, wept, cried and tore her hair—

SATNI. What said she?

RHEOU. "To the temple! to the temple! I would go to the temple! The God has chosen me! The God awaits me! Egypt will perish!" In short, words of madness. She would have killed herself!

SATNI. Killed herself!

RHEOU. We had to put constraint on her. And 'twas only when I led her to this terrace, after the thunderbolt, and pointed out the scattered soldiery, that she came to herself, that at length she perceived that your God was the most powerful. "What," she cried, "'tis he, he, my Satni, who shakes the heavens and the earth for me! For me!" she murmured, "for me!" She would have kissed your sandals, offered you a sacrifice, worshipped, adored you. See where she comes, with Mieris! Stay.

SATNI. No.

He goes. Rheou accompanies him. Mieris enters, bearing flowers and led by Yaouma.

MIERIS [listening] Is he there?

YAOUMA. No.

MIERIS. Leave me.

Yaouma goes out. Mieris left alone makes several hesitating steps toward the statue of Isis, then goes up to it and touches it. A pause.

MIERIS. If it be only of wood!

A gesture of disillusion. She draws slowly away from the statue, letting her flowers fall, broken-hearted, and begins to weep. Rheou returns.

RHEOU. Why, Mieris—do you bring flowers to Isis still?

MIERIS. It is the last time. Listen, Rheou—We mast ask Satni to heal me. Do not tell me it is not possible; he has healed Ahmarsti.

RHEOU. Healed Ahmarsti?

MIERIS, Yes. He made her drink a liquid wherein no doubt a good genius was hidden, and the evil spirit that tormented her was driven forth.

RHEOU [credulously] Is't possible?

MIERIS. Every one saw it. And Kitoui—

RHEOU. Well?

MIERIS. Kitoui, the cripple, went this morning to draw water from the Nile, before all her neighbors who marvelled and cried with joy. And she had merely touched the hem of his garment, even without his knowing it. He has healed the child of Riti, too, he knows gods more powerful than ours—younger gods, perhaps, our gods are so old—If it were not so, how could he have walked unscathed the road where the scarabs lay, that day when he came home? Since then, men have seen him do a thousand forbidden things, have seen him defy our gods by disrespect. Without the protection of a higher power, how could he escape the chastisement whereof another had died? Who are his gods? Rheou, he must make them known to you.

RHEOU. He refuses.

MIERIS. For what reason?

RHEOU. The reason he gives is absurd—he says there are no gods—

MIERIS. No gods! no gods!—he is mocking you.

RHEOU. He is bound to secrecy, perhaps.

MIERIS. Rheou, know you that this Ahmarsti—these two years now, on the day of Prodigies, have I heard her at my side howling prayers at the goddess that were never answered.

RHEOU. I know. Satni declares he could have healed all whom the goddess has relieved.

MIERIS [to herself] He relieves even those women whom she abandons—[After a pause] He must teach you the words that work these miracles.

RHEOU. He refuses.

MIERIS. Force him!

RHEOU. He says there are none.

MIERIS. Threaten him with death—he will speak.

RHEOU. No.

MIERIS [with excitement] But you do not understand me!—he has healed Ahmarsti, he has healed Kitoui, wherefore should he not heal me?

RHEOU [sadly] Ah! Mieris, Mieris, think you I waited for your prayer, to ask him that?

MIERIS. Well—Well—?

RHEOU. I could gain nothing but these words from him: "Could I overcome the evil Mieris suffers from, even now should she rejoice in the splendor of day."

MIERIS. Nothing is impossible to the gods, even to ours; how much more then to his!—He did not yield to your prayers!—Insist, order, threaten! Force him to speak. You have the right to command him. He is but the son of a potter after all. Let him be whipped till he yield. Do anything, have him whipped to the point of death—or better, offer him fields, the hill of date-trees that is ours; offer him our flocks, and my jewels and precious stones—tell him we know him for a living god—but I would be healed. I would be healed! I would see! See! [With anger] Ah! you know not the worth of the light, you whose eyes are filled with it! You cannot picture my misery, you who suffer it not! You grieve for me, I doubt not, but you think you have done enough, having given me pity!—No, no, I am wrong—I am unjust. But forgive me; this thought that I might be healed has made me mad. Rheou!—Think, Rheou, what it means to be blind, to have been so always, and to know that beside one are those who see—who see!—The humblest of our shepherds, the most wretched of the women at our looms, I envy them. And when, at times, I hear them complain, I curb myself lest I should strike them, wretches that know not their good fortune. I feel that all you, you who see, should never cease from songs of joy, and hymns of thanksgiving to the gods—[With an outburst] I speak of sight! Think, Rheou, I have not even a clear idea of what it means "to see." To recognize without touch, to know without need to listen. To perceive the sun another way than by the heat of its rays!—They say the flowers are so beautiful!—I would see you, my well-beloved. Oh! the day when I shall see your eyes!—I would see, that you may show me some likeness of the little child we lost. You shall point out, among the rest, those that are most like to him. This misery—O my beloved!—I do not often speak of it—but I suffer it! I suffer it! [She is in his arms] They have taken from me the hope that our gods will heal me, if they give me nothing in its place, know you what I shall do?—I shall go away, alone, one night, touching the walls, and the trees—and the trees, with my arms outstretched; I shall go down as far as the Nile and there, gently, I shall glide away to death.

RHEOU. Peace, O my best beloved!

MIERIS [listening] I hear him—he comes. I leave you with him! Lead him to my door—love me—save me!

She attempts to go out, he leads her. Satni enters followed by Nourm, Sokiti, and Bitiou.

NOURM. Yes! Thou who art mighty!—Yes! Yes! Make me rich—I have had blows of the stick so long! I would be rich to be able to give them in my turn!—You have but to speak the magic words.

SATNI [somewhat brutally] Leave me! I am no magician.

SOKITI. I, I do not ask for money. Listen not to him; he is bad. I, I only ask that you make Khames die; he has taken from me the girl I would have wed. [Satni pushes him away. Sokiti, weeping, clings to his garments] Grant it, I implore you—I implore you!—My life is gone with her—make him die, I pray you.

SATNI. Leave me!

SOKITI. Hear me.

BITIOU [coming between them and striking Sokiti] Begone! Begone! He would not hear you! [Sokiti goes out] Listen—listen—you see I made him go. All—all whom you will, I shall beat them for you. Listen—if you could make me tall like you, and steady on my legs—See—here—I have hidden away, safe, three gold rings, that I stole a while since; I will give them you.

SATNI. Go, take them to the high priest—

BITIOU [pitiably] I have given four to him already.

Sokiti and Nourm are conferring together. Enter Rheou. They run away, Bitiou follows, falling and picking himself up.

RHEOU. What do they want of you?

SATNI. They came here, following me. They believe me gifted with supernatural power, and crave miracles of me, as though I were a God, or a juggler. I am neither, and I work no miracles.

RHEOU. None the less you have worked two miracles.

SATNI. Not one.

RHEOU. And you will work yet one more.

SATNI. Never. I came hither not to perform miracles, but to prevent them.

RHEOU. You will heal Mieris.

SATNI. No one can heal her, nor I, nor any other.

RHEOU. Give her a little hope.

SATNI. How can I?

RHEOU. Tell her you will invoke your God, and that some day perhaps—

SATNI. I have no God. If there be a god, he is so great, so far from as, so utterly beyond our comprehension, that for us it is as though he did not exist. To believe that one of our actions, to believe that a prayer could act upon the will of God, is to belittle him, to deny him. He is himself incapable of a miracle; it would be to belie himself. Could he improve his work, he would not then have created it perfect from the first. He could not do it.

RHEOU. Our ancient gods at least permitted hope.

SATNI. Keep them.

RHEOU. In the heart of Mieris, you have destroyed them.

SATNI. Do you regret it?

RHEOU. Not yet.

SATNI. What would you say?

RHEOU. Even if it be true that sight will never be given her, do not tell her so. Far better promise that she will be healed.

SATNI. And to all the others, must I promise healing too? Because in a house I relieved a child, whose illness sprang from a cause I could remove; because a woman, ill in imagination, did cure herself by touching my garment's hem; must I then descend to play the part of sorcerer? I had behind me there, but now, a rabble of the wretched imploring me, believing me all powerful, begging for them and theirs unrealizable miracles. Should I then cheat them too, all those poor wretches, promising what I know I cannot give? I came hither to make an end of lies, not to replace them with others.

RHEOU [with passion] Ah! You would not lie. You would not lie to the wretched. You would not lie to Mieris. You would lie to no one, is it so?

SATNI. To no one.

RHEOU. We shall see! [Calling right] Yaouma!—Let them send Yaouma! [To Satni] Not to her either, then? Good; if you speak the truth to her, if you deny that you have supernatural power, if you force her to believe you had no hand in the miracle that saved her yesterday, she will give herself to the priests, or she will kill herself! What will you do?

Yaouma enters, she tries to prostrate herself before Satni, who prevents her. In the meantime the Steward greatly moved has come to whisper to Rheou.

RHEOU [deeply moved] He is there!

STEWARD. In person.

RHEOU. 'Tis an order of the Pharaoh then?

STEWARD. Yes.

RHEOU. I am troubled.

He goes out with the Steward.

SATNI [to Yaouma] What is it ails you? Why are you so sad?

YAOUMA. You will want nothing more of me, now that you are a god.

SATNI. Be not afraid: I am not a god.

YAOUMA. Almost. 'Tis a daughter of the Pharaoh you will marry now.

SATNI. I will marry you.

YAOUMA. You will swear to.

SATNI. Yes.

YAOUMA. By Ammon?—[Recollecting] By your god?

SATNI. My god is not concerned with us.

YAOUMA. Who then is concerned with us?

SATNI. No one.

YAOUMA. You do not want to tell me. You treat me as a child—mocking me.

SATNI. Why do you need an oath? I love you, and you shall be my wife.

YAOUMA [radiant] I shall be your wife!—I, little Yaouma, I shall be wife to a man whom the heavens obey!—[A pause] When I think that you loosed the thunder for my sake—

SATNI. No, vain child, I did not loose the thunder.

YAOUMA. Yes, yes, yes—I understand. You want no one to know that you have found the book of Thoth—fear not, I know how to hold my peace. [Coaxingly she puts her arms round Satni's neck and rubs her cheek against his] Tell me, how did you find it?

SATNI. I have not found the book of magic spells; besides, it would have profited me nothing.

YAOUMA. Sit—you would not sit? They say 'tis shut up in three caskets, hidden at the bottom of the sea.

SATNI. I tell you again I neither sought, nor found it.

YAOUMA. What do you do then, to strike fire from heaven?

SATNI. I did not strike fire from heaven.

YAOUMA [crossly] Oh! I do not love you now!—Yes, yes, yes, I love you! [A pause] So it pleased you then, when you were going away in the galley, to see me run barefoot on the bank—?

SATNI. Yes.

YAOUMA [angry] But speak! speak! [Checking herself, then more coaxing still] You wanted to weep? No? You said you did. For my part I know not, then, I could see nothing. But the day of your return, when you learned I was chosen for the sacrifice, then, then I saw your eyes—You love me—You said to me you would prevent me going to the Nile. I believed you not—you remember—Why! even yesterday, yes, yesterday again, in spite of all your words, I was resolved to escape and go to the temple. It needed this proof of your power!—tell me, it was you who shook the heavens and the earth for me.

SATNI. No.

YAOUMA. Again!—You must think but little of me, to believe I should reveal what you bade me keep secret. [She lays her hands on Satni's cheeks] It was you, was it not?

SATNI. No, no, no! a thousand times no!

YAOUMA. It was your gods then, your gods whom I know not.

SATNI. No.

YAOUMA. Who was it then?

SATNI. No one.

YAOUMA [out of countenance] No one! [A pause] You possess no power that other men have not?

SATNI. No.

YAOUMA [the same] You seem as one speaking truth.

SATNI. I speak the truth.

YAOUMA. 'Tis a pity!

SATNI. Why?

YAOUMA. It would have been more beautiful. [A long grave pause] To go in the barge, on the Nile, that too had been more beautiful.

Rheou and the Steward enter

RHEOU [agitated] Go in, Yaouma. [To the Steward] Conduct her to her mistress—and make known to her what has passed. [Yaouma and the Steward go out] Satni, terrible news has come to me: the Pharaoh, finding the people's enmity increase against him, has taken fright, and striking first, the blow has fallen on me. My goods are confiscated. I am sent to exile. The palace Chamberlain, but now, brought me the order to quit my house to-day, and deliver myself to the army leaving for Ethiopia.

SATNI. Can you do nothing against this order?

RHEOU. Yes. I can kill those who gave it.

SATNI. Kill!

RHEOU. Listen. I bring you the means to win the triumph of your ideas, and at the same time serve my cause. I can arm all the dwellers on my lands. We two must lead them. They will follow you, knowing you all powerful. Nay, hear me—wait. The soldiers, who fear you, will not dare resist us, we shall kill the high priest, the Pharaoh if need be—we shall be masters of Egypt.

SATNI. I would not kill.

RHEOU. So be it. Enough that you declare yourself ready to repeat the miracle of yesterday.

SATNI. I would not lie.

RHEOU. If you would neither kill nor lie, you will never succeed in governing men.

SATNI. I would fight the priests of Ammon, not imitate them.

RHEOU. You will never triumph without doing so. Profit by events. Do not deny the power they believe to be yours. Men will not follow you, if you speak only to their reason. You are above the crowd by your learning; that gives you rights. You would lead them to the summits; to get there, one must blindfold those who suffer from dizziness.

SATNI. I refuse.

RHEOU. One would think you were afraid of victory!

SATNI. Rheou, 'tis not the victory of my ideas you seek, 'tis your own vengeance, your own ambition.

RHEOU. They wish to rush the people of Egypt into an unjust and useless war. They hesitate; they feel the people lacking zest, that is why they have delayed the going of the army till the feast of Prodigies. To-morrow they will make the goddess speak, and all those poor creatures will be led away. You can save thousands of lives by sacrificing a few.

SATNI. I refuse. The truth will prevail without help from cruelty or falsehood.

RHEOU. Never. The crowd is not a woman to be won by loud wooing, but one who must be taken by force, whom you must dominate before you can persuade.

SATNI. Say no more, Rheou, I refuse.

RHEOU. Blind! Fool! Coward!

Mieris enters, led by Yaouma. A moment later some men—Bitiou, Sokiti, Nourm.

MIERIS. Rheou!—where are you? where are you? [Yaouma leads her toward him] It is true, this that I hear?—Exile—Misery?

RHEOU. It is true.

MIERIS. Courage—As for me, a palace or a cottage—I know not the one from the other.

RHEOU. [to Satni] Satni, can you still refuse?

SATNI. You torture me! No, I will not be credited with power that is not mine; to stir men up against their fellows—I would not kill, I tell you.

MIERIS. I understand you, Satni—it is wrong to kill!—But look once more upon me—I am poor now, I am going away, will you not consent to heal me?

SATNI [anguished] Mieris—Could I have healed you, would it not be done already?

MIERIS. You can do it! I know you can do it! Work a miracle.

YAOUMA. A miracle! Show that your god is more powerful than our gods.

A MAN [who has just entered] Heal us!

SATNI. I am not able.

ANOTHER. Work a miracle.

SATNI. There are no miracles!

A MAN. Then your gods are less mighty than ours.

SATNI. Yours do not exist.

THE PEOPLE [terrified at the blasphemy] Oh!

A MAN. Why do you lead us away from our gods, if you have no others to give us?

ANOTHER. You shall not insult our gods!

ANOTHER. We will hand you over to the priests lest the gods smite us for hearing you!

ANOTHER. Ammon will chastise us!

SATNI. No.

A MAN. Isis will abandon us!

SATNI. It will not make you more wretched.

ANOTHER. Then show us you are stronger than our gods.

MIERIS. A miracle!

RHEOU. He is stronger than our gods! } [Together] YAOUMA. A miracle or I die! }

SATNI. You demand it! You demand a miracle. Well, then, you shall have one, I will do this, but in the presence of all! Go! go! go throughout the domains—bring hither those you find bowed on the earth, or hung to poles for drawing water. Go you others, summon the slaves, the piteous workers—call hither the drawers of stones, bid them drop the ropes that flay their shoulders, bid them come.

MIERIS. What would you do?

SATNI. Convince them.

MIERIS. Now of a sudden, brutally?

SATNI. Brutally.

RHEOU. Do you believe them ready?

SATNI. You are afraid.

RHEOU. Day comes not suddenly on night, between them is the dawn.

Delethi leads Mieris right under the peristyle.

SATNI. I would have day, broad daylight—Now, at once, for all! 'Tis a crime to promise them reward for their suffering. How do we know that they will ever be paid?

RHEOU. They are so miserable—

SATNI. The truth—is the truth good only for the rich? Will you add that injustice to all the others? Behold them! [Gradually the slaves and workers of all kinds have entered till they fill the stage. Amongst them Pakh, Sokiti, Bitiou the Dwarf] Yes, behold them, the victims, behold the wretched! I know you all. You, you are shepherd, you are worse nourished than your flocks, and your beasts, at least, are not given blows. They do not beat the cows nor the sheep. You, you sow and you reap; beneath the sun, tortured by flies, you gather abundant crops. You sleep in a hole. Others eat the corn you made grow, and sleep on precious stuffs. You, you are forever drawing water from the Nile; betwixt you and the ox they harness to another machine, there is no difference, and yet you are a man. You, you are one of those who drag great stones, to build the monuments of pride. You are a digger in the tombs, you live a month or more without sight of day. To glorify the death of others, you give your life. You are a trainer of lions for war; your father was eaten—they would have wept had the lion died—How can it be that you accept all this, when you see beside you happiness without work, and abundance without effort? I will tell you. 'Tis because, in the name of the god Ammon-Ra, they have said to you: "Have patience, this injustice will last but a life-time." Fools! nothing but that! All the time you are on earth, suffer, produce for others. Content ye with hunger, you who produce food. Content ye with worse usage than the swine, you who have guard of them. Content ye to sleep in the open, you who build palaces and temples. Content ye with all miseries, you carvers of gold, and setters of precious stones. Look without envy, without anger, on the welfare of those who do nothing, all this will last only the whole of your lives! After, in another world, you shall have the fulness of all the crops, and the joy of all the pleasures. Well, they lied to you: there is no island of souls, there are no happy fields, there is no life of atonement after this. [Loud murmurs] They have set up these gods for your servile adoration; they have counselled you: "Bow down, these gods will avenge you." They have said: "Prostrate yourselves, these gods are just." They have said: "Throw yourselves to earth, these gods are good." They have declared them all powerful; shut them in sanctuaries of awful gloom, whence you are shown them once a year, to keep alive your terror of the Gods; and last, they have made you believe no man may touch these images and live. I tell you they lied—I will show you they lied to you. Behold the most mighty Ammon—the father of the gods—I spit my hate at him! Thou art but an idol; I curse thee for evil men have done in thy name! I curse thee in the name of all the enslaved, in the name of all those they have cheated with hopes of an avenging life; in the name of all who for thousands of years have groaned and wept; suffered insult, outrage, blows, death, without thought of revolt, because promises made in thy name had soothed their rage to sleep! And I curse thee for the sorrow that now fills me, and for the ills that must come even of thy going! Die! [He throws a stool in the face of the statue] You others do as I. Go, climb their pedestals! Lay hold of their hands, they are lifeless! Strike, 'tis but an image! Spit in their faces, they are senseless! Strike! Ruin! All this is nothing but hardened mud!

The crowd which had punctuated the words of Satni with cries and murmurs has approached the statues behind him and followed his example, blaspheming, and howling with fury. The more courageous begin, being hoisted to the pedestals, the rest follow suit. The gods are overthrown.

RHEOU. Now, let them open my granaries, that each may help himself; and take from my flocks to sate you all.

Cries of joy, they go out slowly. Bitiou in the meantime approaches an overthrown statue and still half-afraid, kicks it. He tries to run, falls, picks himself up, then seeing that decidedly there is no danger, seats himself on the stomach of the goddess Thoueris and bursts into a peal of triumphant bestial laughter.

BITIOU. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

Then he perceives the little statue of Isis which Mieris shields with her arms, points it out to a couple of men who advance to it.

DELETHI. Mistress, they would take Isis!

MIERIS [in tears] Let me keep her—

RHEOU. No, Mieris.

MIERIS [letting go] Take her—[Then] Stay!

RHEOU. Wherefore?

MIERIS. Can you part from her, and feel nothing? Even now, Satni, in denouncing the gods to the fury of the crowd, you did not say everything—You, who can see her, behold this little image, think how many tears were shed before her, in the years since she was made. She has been ours for generations. Call up the countless crowds of those who have fixed their anxious looks upon her eyes, dead even as mine are. It is for all the anguish she has looked upon, we must respect her. Tears make holy. I doubt not you are right: she must be broken too—but not without farewell. [To Yaouma] Where is she, Yaouma? I would say my last prayer to her. [To the statue] Oh, them who didst not heal, but didst console me; O thou who hast heard so many entreaties and thanksgivings, thou art but clay! Yet men have given thee life; thy life was not in thee, it was in them—and the proof is that thou diest, now they have taken their soul from thee. I give thee over to those who would break thee, but I revere thee, I salute thee, and I thank thee for all the hope thou hast given me; and I thank thee in the name of all the sorrows that thou hast sent to sleep. [To the men] Take her hence—let them destroy her with respect.

They take Isis away.

SATNI. There is nothing so sad or so great as the death of a god! [A pause. To Yaouma, who comes through the crowd] Behold, Yaouma! The gods are dead and I live—behold them! Do you believe me—do you believe me?

Sadly Yaouma looks at the broken statues, then bursts into tears before Satni, who stands amazed.

CURTAIN



ACT III

SCENE:—The yard in front of the potter's hut. On the right from the middle of the back of the scene to the footlights, the walls of the dwelling made of beaten clay. Two unequal doors. The wall is slightly raised supporting a terrace where pottery of all kinds is drying in the sun. Left, a wall of loose stones high enough to lean on. Between the wall and the house an opening leading to an invisible inclined plane that descends to the Nile, the water and opposite bank of which are visible. Behind the house and on the right groups of lofty palms. The whole is abject misery beneath the splendor of a heaven blazing with light.

Kirjipa, crouching down, is grinding corn between a large and a small stone. Satni is seated on the wall dreaming.

KIRJIPA. Son.

SATNI. Mother.

KIRJIPA. And so you do not believe that when the moon grows little by little less, 'tis because it is eaten by a pig?

SATNI. No, mother.

KIRJIPA. Then what beast eats it?

SATNI. None.

KIRJIPA [laughing] You have ideas that are not reasonable. What makes me marvel, is that your father seems to understand them. I must haste to make the bread, that he find it when he returns.

SATNI. Here comes the messenger from Rheou.

KIRJIPA [horrified] The messenger of him who kills the gods.

SATNI. We do not kill what has no life.

KIRJIPA. I would not see him. [She picks up her corn].

SATNI. Why?

KIRJIPA. Brrr!—[To herself] To-morrow I shall burn some sacred herbs here. [She goes out].

The Steward enters.

STEWARD. Satni, I have been seeking you. Since this morning unhappy things have come to pass—

SATNI. Yaouma is not in danger, or Mieris, of Rheou?

STEWARD. No. All three are safe in the palace.

SATNI. Well?

STEWARD. You remember the order the master gave me this morning, after the death of the gods?

SATNI. No.

STEWARD. Yes, to open his granaries to all.

SATNI. Yes, yes, well?

STEWARD. When I went to obey, to my amazement I beheld the men stand by the door in earnest converse, then without entering they withdrew. This is what happened. They went to the house of the neighboring master, roused his servants and laborers, and strove to force them to overthrow the statues of his gods, and rob him of his corn. They killed his steward. Soldiers came—Nepk had been killed, others too. Then all were scattered. The master sent me to bid you reason with those whom you might find. Look! there are some who have taken refuge here! [To some men who are outside] Enter—come—Satni would speak with you!

Bitiou, Sokiti, and Nourm appear behind the wall. Bitiou comes in.

SATNI [To Bitiou] Whither go you?

STEWARD. Whither go you? Whence come you?

BITIOU. I followed the others—

STEWARD. Whence come you?

BITIOU. I came back with the others, Sokiti and Nourm.

SATNI. Where are they?

BITIOU. There.

STEWARD. Bid them enter.

SATNI [going to the door] Sokiti, Nourm, come.

Sokiti and Nourm enter awkwardly.

STEWARD. Why do you hide yourselves?

NOURM. We do not hide from you, but from the Lybian soldiers.

SATNI. Why do you fear them?

SOKITI. Because they are chasing us.

STEWARD. And why are they chasing you?

The three men look at each other.

SATNI. Bitiou, answer.

BITIOU. Bitiou knows not.

STEWARD [to the others] You know it, you.

NOURM. They took us for the others.

SATNI. What others?

NOURM. Perhaps they took us for the servants of the neighboring master.

STEWARD. They have done mischief, then, the servants of the neighboring master? [Pause] Answer—you!

NOURM [to Satni] They did that at his house, that you made us do at yours.

STEWARD. The priests heard of it?

NOURM. No, but the master sent for the soldiers.

SATNI. Only for that!

NOURM. I know not.

SATNI. Had there been nothing else, he would not have sent for the Lybian soldiers. He knew our projects—he is with us. There is something else, eh!—

Bitiou yawns loudly.

SOKITI. Yes.

SATNI. What?

SOKITI [to Nourm] Tell.

NOURM. They were angered with the master. He was bad, the master.

STEWARD. He is hard, but he gives much to those who have nothing.

SOKITI. He gave here, that he might receive hereafter.

NOURM. After his death.

SATNI. And now he gives no more?

NOURM. Nothing.

SATNI. Ah!

BITIOU. Nothing—and so, all stomachs empty, very much. [He laughs].

NOURM. He gives only blows of the stick now.

SOKITI [with conviction] One cannot live on that alone.

NOURM. And so his servants asked him for corn?

BITIOU. No good—only blows of the stick.

STEWARD. They took the corn that was refused them?

BITIOU [laughing] Hunger! [A gesture].

SATNI. You knew they were going to do that?

SOKITI. Yes.

SATNI. It was for that you went to join them?

NOURM. Yes.

STEWARD. Why?

NOURM. It came into our heads like this: better not take corn from the good master, but take it from the bad one.

SOKITI. Justice!

BITIOU [to the Steward] You content. You still got all your corn.

He laughs, his comrades laugh with him.

NOURM. You, we like you.

BITIOU. You—good! We—good!

SOKITI. See!

BITIOU [collecting two ideas] Wait: neighboring master bad. They bad. [To the others] Heh?—Heh?—you see—Heh? Heh? [All three draw themselves up proudly and laugh] And the steward he bad, he dead—well done!

SATNI. What would he say?

SOKITI [laughing] They took the steward and then—[Chokes with laughter].

NOURM. They gave him back all the blows of the stick they had had from him.

SATNI. You saw that?

NOURM. Yes.

SOKITI [proudly] Me too, me too—

BITIOU. I laugh very much—because—because—Steward, very big, strong, and then when very much beaten, fell down—fell on the ground—like me! like me! He, big, he fell down just the same—he like Bitiou—I very glad. [During what follows he plays with his foot].

STEWARD. What they have done is bad.

NOURM. No. The steward had been happy all his life. He was old.

SOKITI. He was old. So 'tis not bad to have killed him—He had finished—He was fat—and he had lost his appetite—

NOURM. Only just, he should leave his place to another.

SATNI. We must not kill.

SOKITI. What does that mean?

NOURM. Yes, kill a good one, that is bad. But kill a bad one, that is good.

SATNI. And if you are mistaken?

SOKITI. No, he is bad, I kill him.

SATNI. What if he be not bad, and you think him so?

SOKITI. If he were not bad, I should not think it.

STEWARD. You do not understand—Listen, I am not bad, am I?

SOKITI. But we do not want to kill you.

STEWARD. Let me speak. You remember Kob the black. He thought me bad.

NOURM. Yes.

STEWARD. And if he had killed me?

SOKITI. We are not blacks—

STEWARD. You do not understand me. Consider. He thought me bad. I am not bad. What you were saying, would justify him if he had killed me.

They consider.

SOKITI. I understand. You say: If the slave had killed me—no, it is not that.

SATNI. Human life must be respected.

Gravely they make sign of acquiescence, to escape further torment. Nourm picks up a package he had brought and turns to go out unobserved.

STEWARD. What are you carrying there?

NOURM. Nothing, 'tis mine—

BITIOU. That is a necklace—show. [Begins to open the package].

NOURM. Yes, a necklace.

SATNI. From whom did you take it?

NOURM. From the neighboring master.

SATNI. Do you think you did well?

NOURM [hesitating] Why—yes.

SATNI. You are wrong.

NOURM. Be not afraid, no one saw me.

SATNI. It is wrong.

NOURM. No. What can wrong me, is wrong. Since no one saw me, they will not punish me. So it is not wrong.

SATNI. Wrong not to you, but to the neighboring master.

NOURM. He has many others.

SOKITI. Has had them for years, he has! Nourm never had one. Not just. I, I never had, this—[He holds up a bracelet].

SATNI. You have taken this bracelet!

SOKITI [delighted] It is mine.

SATNI. We are content.

They laugh.

NOURM. And Bitiou—

SATNI AND SOKITI. Yes, Bitiou—

NOURM. He took the best thing.

STEWARD. What?

BITIOU. A woman.

STEWARD. By force?

BITIOU. No woman would come willingly with Bitiou.

SOKITI. But she escaped from him.

BITIOU. Yes. [He weeps].

SATNI. You must give back the necklace and this bracelet to the neighboring master.

NOURM. Give back, but he has others!

SATNI. You cannot make yourself the judge of that. If you were selling perfumes, for instance, would you think it natural that a man should come and take them from you, because you had plenty and he had none?

NOURM. You tell me hard things.

SATNI. You must give back this bracelet, Sokiti.

SOKITI. Yes, master.

SATNI. And you the necklace.

NOURM. Yes, master.

A sorrowful pause.

SATNI. See, you are sad. You perceive that you did wrong.

SOKITI. Yes, we did wrong—

SATNI. Ah!

SOKITI. We did wrong to tell you what we did, because you are not pleased.

SATNI. 'Tis for your sake I am grieved.

NOURM. Then you have not told the truth; there is a hell, and there is an island of souls.