Woman on Her Own, False Gods and The Red Robe Part 38

NAHASI. But you know what they say?

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

YAOUMA. I know.

DELETHI. Of false G.o.ds.

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 G.o.ddess 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 G.o.ddess 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 pa.s.ses 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 G.o.ddess.

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 G.o.ddess._

PAKH. Oh, Mighty One!--thou who hast given birth to the G.o.ds, 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.