Fragment VI
627 Words
Fragment VILet me see, where was I? My head begins to feel dizzy and faint, and I pause awhile ere I begin this, the last chapter of my life's history, ere I tell thee of the consummation of my misery and of my deadly sin.
I had wandered out one night, wakeful, and with aching spirit, I had knelt by the sacred Nile, I had prayed and I had wept, and my weary footsteps led me, I know not how, to Isis' temple, whose granite steps are washed by the waves of the holy river.
Thy crescent-shaped image, oh, Isis! threw sparks of silver on the waters, and cast long, deep shadows under the columns of thy temple. Not a sound stirred the stillness of the night, save the occasional cry of the ibis talking to its young. A peace that comes from thee, oh, holy mother! reigned supreme over all; and gradually as I gazed at the majesty of thy dwelling, at the beauties of Ra's creation, the same god-like peace seemed to descend within my soul. Once more I knelt before thee, and, turning my weary eyelids towards the light of thy countenance, I felt a ray of hope illuminating the darkness of my misery.
Suddenly, oh, my son! as I knelt, my ears caught the sound of softly-whispered words, anon of stealthy footsteps coming from the direction of the sacred temple; my very life seemed to stand still as I listened and as I tried to gaze into impenetrable darkness beyond the colonnade. Vainly my eyes peered into the gloom; the shadows were too deep; I could not see! . . .
It was thy mother's voice I heard, my son, but oh! how different! how inexpressibly sweet!
“Sweet! let me go home now,” she said, “my soul is troubled! It was wrong to come out as a thief in the night to speak to thee, and yet this hour has been the happiest of my life; long will its remembrance dwell with me; for, sweetheart, I will not come again.”
“Tell me then that I must die,” replied, “for I cannot live without seeing thee.”
“And yet,” she said sadly, “I will not come again. I love thee, alas! That I cannot help; the gods themselves allowed that love to spring within me. But clearer to me even than thou art, my great and glorious conqueror, are truth and fidelity, my honor and that of my child!”
“Yet thou wilt come?” he pleaded.
“The gods would punish us,” she replied, “if we did so great a wrong—Hark! what was that?”
“Only the cry of the ibis, sweetheart, talking to its mate.”
There was a pause, while I held my breath, transfixed. My limbs seemed paralysed; I felt rooted to the spot.
Once more she spoke, and, with that gentle voice of hers, spoke my condemnation and her own.
“Hast thou not enough love for me to wait a little while?” she asked. “While he lives I will not leave him. Nay! I will strive, not even by a thought, to betray his trust in me. But he is ill; lately he has ailed much. If Osiris call him back, and I am free, then, if thou still lovest me, and wilt claim me as thy wife——”
I heard no more, for presently their footsteps drew nearer, and I crawled round behind some bushes, for I wished to see. They came from out the shadows, and thy image shone on them, oh, Isis! and hid not behind a cloud at a sight so monstrous. They walked side by side, her hand was in his, and she gazed at his tall, majestic figure, her very soul within her glorious eyes. When they parted, she would not allow him to kiss her; her honor, she had said, was dearer to her than he; but, like his slave, she knelt at his feet, and kissed the hem of his garment.
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