The Tour Part 13

"You leave that to me, Brother Ghizla, you just leave it to me!"

"May the G.o.ds bless you, Brother Caleb; may Thoth, Hermes and Serapis bless you! Quick, let us look in the cellars if we have enough in store!"

There came a sudden shower, as though poured from an urn in the sky by an invisible water-G.o.d; and the two brothers, with their garments girdled up, rushed bare-legged through the puddles of their palm-garden to their wine-cellars, which lay warm as stone cupolas in the sun, or else were kept cool with double walls filled with snow.

CHAPTER XIV

In the still and silent night, the Delta lay flooded by the kindly waters of the sacred river. From the Canopic to the Sebennytic mouth, from the Phatmetic along the Mendesian to the Pelusiac mouth, the Delta lay flooded: one still and silent sea in the night, a wide, silver sheet of water without a ripple, stretching farther than the eye could reach in the soft-falling sheen of the full moon. Between the river-mouths the ca.n.a.ls lay in streaks of silver light, full of water to their edges. Past the blossoming reeds, past the blossoming lotuses and water-lilies, the great barge glided up the stream as in a vision.

There was not a sound amid the silence but the dripping from the oars.

The night was m.u.f.fled, wide and immense. It was as though the moon, up above, had inundated the sky, even as the flood the sacred land below. It was as though the flood of moonshine were drenching the sacred sky also with a calm, unrippled sea, but a sea of light. The night was like a noiseless, silvery day; the night was like a shadow of the day. In that inundation of the light of heaven the stars paled, innumerous, like a silvery powder sprinkled by the moonshine. There lay the lake of Butos, wide and mystic and gleaming. Island emerged after island. Palms stood in cl.u.s.ters, stately, motionless and delicate. A shrine appeared and vanished as the dream-barge glided down a bend of the ca.n.a.l. Country-mansions stood peacefully linked together. There were taller d.y.k.es and patches of golden, shadowy wheat. Sheaves of corn looked like the images of G.o.ds, reverence-compelling, ranged in order beside one another, against the wall of a barn. A peculiar scent was wafted by, a fresh aroma as of always moist flowers.

The outline of a village came into view. And hamlet joined itself to hamlet, with shrines and mansions in between. Suddenly, farther up, in the sea of glory, in the sea of light, huge needles rose on high from the ground, with quivering lines, and became lost in the midst of light.

Thrasyllus standing by Cora on the fore-castle pointed:

"The obelisks of Sais."

She turned, with a start, and was silent. The barge that afternoon had left Naucratis along the ca.n.a.ls which seam the Saitic nome, or province. They were now nearing the capital, Sais, the capital of all Lower Egypt. They already saw the Anubis Avenue. And suddenly, at a bend, between very tall reeds blossoming with ta.s.sels and bowing before the barge, Thrasyllus pointed:

"The temple of Isis-Neith."

There were sphinxes: they seemed to lift their basalt heads in prayer to the moon and the sky. Lamps and lights twinkled like stars. The thalamegus hove to; orders rang out; the sailors moored the vessel.

"The temple of Isis-Neith," Thrasyllus repeated to Lucius, who approached with Catullus and Caleb.

They were all arrayed in long, white-linen robes. Cora also was similarly clad, in a long, white, close fitting linen robe. She wore a wreath of wheat-ears and lotus-flowers at her temples. For it was the Night of the Glowing Lights, the Feast of the Burning Lamps.

"Nemu-Pha is waiting for me in the temple," said Thrasyllus. "I wrote to him and he has consented to receive me. He is the high-priest of Isis; and to-night he receives those who come to consult him. I thought, Lucius, of going alone. Nemu-Pha is one of the holiest prophets in Egypt. One word from him can perhaps enable me to guess much. But, if you accompany me, with only a single thought in your sick brain, you would break the mystic thread which might be woven between the high-priest's spirit and mine. Let me go alone. I have no other care than your happiness ... even though we are not agreed on the form which it should take.

"Go, Thrasyllus," said Lucius.

"I don't think that I shall go on sh.o.r.e," said Uncle Catullus. "The Night of the Glowing Lights and the Feast of the Burning Lamps leave me cold. It is colourless and cheerless; it will be a spectral orgy. I am too old and fat, Lucius, for spectral orgies. Go on sh.o.r.e alone and amuse yourself as you may."

Lucius a.s.sembled his slaves, male and female. They were all in long, white robes, the women wreathed with ears of wheat and lotus-flowers.

"You are all free to-night," said Lucius. "You have a night of liberty. Until sunrise you belong to yourselves. Go your ways and do whatever you please."

Rufus handed each a small sum of money. The slaves bowed low and disappeared, between the palms, in the direction of the moonlit, twinkling city.

Only a guard of sailors kept watch on the barge. Uncle Catullus retired to his cabin. Tarrar also did not wish to go on sh.o.r.e and remained to sleep at his master's threshold. The Feast of Isis made many shudder who were not accustomed from their youth to its shivery mysticism.

Thrasyllus had gone. Lucius also went on sh.o.r.e. He saw Cora hesitating under the palm-trees while the other women slaves had already gone gaily to enjoy their night of liberty:

"Why don't you join your companions, Cora?" asked Lucius.

"My lord," Cora replied, "if you permit me, I would rather stay here."

"You are free to-night."

"What should I do with liberty, my lord?"

"You can do what you please, go to the temple and see the veiled Isis ... and enjoy yourself as and with whom you choose."

She cast down her eyes and blushed.

"There is a general holiday to-night," continued Lucius, "for slaves male and female."

She folded her hands as though in prayer:

"My lord," she begged, "suffer me to remain here, near the barge. I am afraid of liberty and of the big city."

"Do as you please," said Lucius.

He went on alone. Loneliness sent a shiver through him because of this strange night which was like day. A white melancholy emanated from his soul. He felt aimless. He would have preferred to accompany Thrasyllus. He would not have minded going to bed. He had almost invited Cora to accompany him to Sais, but did not think it suited to his dignity.

He went alone, in his white raiment, in the bountiful moonlight. How strange the night was, all white and trembling. He approached the town. There was nothing but the monotonous rattling of the sistra carried by the long-robed pilgrims who walked in procession to the temple. All the houses along the road were lit with the lamps burning at the doors and windows, vessels full of oil with burning wicks. It was a strange pale-yellow twinkling in the moonshine. It was like a funeral ceremony. For it commemorated the night on which Isis had collected the scattered limbs of her brother and husband Osiris, murdered and quartered by Typhon and scattered all over Egypt.

The procession streamed to the temple. Along the road, the hierodules, the priestesses, danced to a monotonous chant, hand in hand, in a long row. They threw a laugh to the numberless strangers who had come to Sais, for that night. The strangers laughed back and picked out the priestesses; and they withdrew together, first to the temple, then farther away.

Three hierodules laughed to Lucius. They danced round him. He did not wish to seem uncivil; also he felt very forlorn. He just laughed back, wearily and kindly.

"Shall we come with you?" asked one of the hierodules.

"As you please," said Lucius. "Are you going to the temple?"

"If you wish."

They walked in front of him and beside him. They wore white, close-fitting robes, with lotus-flowers and ears of wheat in their hair. They were gentle and civil and obliging and young, like three young children.

The white mult.i.tude streamed along the streets. The obelisks of the dromos came into view. The temple rose gigantic and mysterious, with numbers of square buildings and terraces stacked one above the other. There were rows of gigantic pylons, which lost themselves in the moonlit night. The monotonous melody of the sistra rattled on every side; on every side the lamps twinkled. Lucius felt within him an immeasurable melancholy, because of life and because of death, because of people and because of himself.

The hierodules led the way. They were kind and courteous, glad at meeting this amiable stranger, to whom they would be obliging, as their duty prescribed that night.

They entered the p.r.o.naos and secos. In the immensity of the pillared s.p.a.ces the countless sistra rattled eerily, producing a vibration which was no longer music: it was as though the pylons and pillars themselves were rattling, as though the very earth were rattling.

Suddenly Lucius felt a cold shiver pa.s.s through him. In the holy of holies rose the veiled Isis. It was an immense statue, five fathoms high and surrounded entirely with a silvery film, seamed with hieroglyphics. Above the image, on the architrave, was written:

I AM WHO HAVE BEEN, WHO AM AND WHO SHALL BE; AND NO ONE HAS LIFTED MY VEIL.