The short twilight had deepened to purple over the desert; night came gliding along the firmament; the stars began to peep. And Caleb, who suspected Lucius’ emotion at each fresh divination, considered that new impressions would be the best medicine for him. After a short deliberation with Uncle Catullus and Thrasyllus, he said:

“My noble lord, before the night has quite fallen, I should like to take you to the great Neith ... for the sake both of the statue itself and of the Jewish prophet, a hermit, who dwells in a cave hard by.”

Lucius nodded his approval. And in the falling night he sat erect on the saddle-pad of his camel and raised his head towards the stars. Had he guessed the truth? Had the truth gradually been revealed within him? Or had the sibyl, Amphris, the oracle and the priests whom he had consulted really shown him the way to that truth? He did not know, he had so many vague memories that it all grew confused in his seeking, solving brain.... But he certainly was the Cypriote, the sailor, Carus ... who, shortly before Ilia’s disappearance, had himself disappeared from the crew of the quadrireme ... and whom he had once found with Ilia among the oleanders! A thing which she had never been able to explain! Carus! A sailor! Not a slave, it was true, but one of his meanest servants! A Cyprian sailor, to have robbed him of the woman who reigned as queen over his house, whom he dressed like a goddess, whom he covered with everything that was precious! And she must have been kidnapped—it could not be otherwise—with her own consent, her own, infatuated consent.

Had he guessed the truth? Had his groping brain at last divined the truth? Or had the priests and the oracles and Amphris and the sibyl indeed revealed the truth to him? He decided that they must have done so. His soul was inclined to accept the supernatural. And he knew, he knew, thanks to the wise knowledge of the priests and the oracles.

So she had been able to leave him, him, for his hired sailor! He raised his head towards the stars. His lips were tightly clenched, his forehead frowned. But never, he resolved, would his lips utter to any one, not even to Thrasyllus, the secret truth which the oracles had revealed to him. He would be silent and his pride would suppress his grief.

“Look, my lord,” said Caleb, while Lucius still stared straight before him, up, towards the stars.

Lucius lowered his eyes. And suddenly he gave a start. The Sphinx loomed before him in the night. In the immense starry night, with the sands glittering all around like a silver sea, loomed the immense Neith, the omniscient wisdom. It was more gigantic than any sphinx that he had ever seen.

It had been shaped by Nature herself out of an immense monolith. Human hands had only reshapen it more plainly for human eyes ... into the Sphinx. It was not the veiled Isis of Sais; it was the unveiled, silent knowledge, which had known everything from the beginning of time. It raised its head towards the stars ... as he had done. It was resting: its lioness-body rested and sank into the sand; its fore-paws projected like walls. Its superhuman breasts seemed to heave in the night. Its fixed eyes stared upwards and its granite veil stood out upon its lioness-body. It was awesomely beautiful in the starry night.

The travellers had alighted. And Caleb had fetched the Jewish hermit from the cave in which he lived, opposite the Sphinx.

“I believe he’s mad,” said Caleb, timidly, a little alarmed by Lucius’ frown. “But it doesn’t matter if he is mad. He is the Jewish hermit; and all distinguished foreigners, such as your lordship, listen to him ... because he says strange things.”

“He too!” muttered Lucius.

The Jewish hermit came up to them in the fallen night. He was of giant stature and incredibly old; his beard fell in waves down to his waist. His grey robe trailed over the sand. And he exclaimed, in a loud voice:

“I am Tsafnath-Paeneach, ‘he who reveals mysteries!’ I am of the tribe of Joseph himself, who took to wife Asenath the daughter of Potipherah priest of On! In me was the wisdom of Joseph, who interpreted dreams, and the wisdom of the priests of On! But all wisdom is dead in me, Jahve be praised, since I beheld Him!”

“Whom?” asked Lucius, dismayed by the prophet’s booming voice.

“It was a night of twinkling stars!” cried the prophet. “It was thirty years ago! I lived in my cave, as I do now! And I knew everything and I looked Neith in the face and in the eyes.... Along the road, yonder, through the sands ... they came! They came, they came, they drew near.... On an ass that stumbled with fatigue sat a woman. A greybeard, staff in hand, led the stumbling beast. Then I saw that the woman held, pressed to her breast, in the folds of her mantle, a Child! And the woman was like Heva and like Isis; and the Child was like Habel and like Horus. When they came before the mighty Neith, the ass could stumble no farther through the sands of the desert. And the woman alighted and smiled upon the Child through her tears. But the greybeard led the woman to the mighty Neith and helped her to climb into its deep granite lap. There the woman rested against Neith’s bosom and the Child rested against the woman’s bosom. And then ... then I saw, I, Tsafnath-Paeneach, I who reveal mysteries, that the Child that was like Habel and Horus was radiant in the night, in the folds of the woman’s mantle! The Child was radiant; a wreath of rays, a halo of light shone about the Child! The mother slept, the radiant Child slept, the greybeard slept ... and the mighty Neith watched over their sleep in the starry night! Then, O Jahve, I knew that I had beheld Thy Son; and this happiness was my last wisdom. Since then I know nothing more, O Jahve, be praised! Since then I have discovered no mysteries! Since then the knowledge of Joseph has died away within me and that of the priests of On! For I have seen Jahve’s Son, there, there, in the lap of Neith ... and since then I have seen nothing but that vision! And I shall die with the vision of the radiant Child before my eyes!”

The prophet’s loud, booming voice had risen to a cry of joy; and Caleb repeated to Lucius, in a whisper:

“You see, my lord, he’s mad.”

But Thrasyllus, on the other side, whispered:

“He’s not mad, Lucius.... He is a seer.... He has seen.... He has perhaps seen the new God of Whom all the sibyls speak....”

“Which new God?” asked Lucius.

“I don’t know His name,” said Thrasyllus.

But Uncle Catullus spoke:

“My dear nephew, that great monstrous fellow frightens me, here in the dark, in the desert, in front of this awful statue. Egypt gives me too many impressions. I feel like a sponge full of water, so soaked am I with impressions. Egypt will be the death of me, Lucius, you’ll see it will! Meanwhile I propose to mount my camel.”

And Uncle Catullus called his guards and drivers and bade them make his camel kneel down for him.

But Lucius went to the prophet and drew him aside:

“Do you know the past?” he asked, anxiously.

“The past?” echoed the Jewish seer, in an uncertain voice; and his eyes were as though blind.

“Do you see and can you tell me if that which I think has happened ... is undoubtedly true?”

“I no longer see either the past or the future,” said the seer. “I see nothing but the present. And the present for me is nothing but ... the radiant Child yonder!”

“Who is He?” asked Lucius.

“I do not know, unless He be Jahve’s Son!” cried the seer. “He was like Habel, he was like Horus. But I do not know, unless He be Jahve’s Son!”

Thrasyllus approached:

“Lucius,” he said, “let us go. The night is falling and the guards have warned us against wild animals and robbers.”

“Let Caleb give the prophet a gold piece,” said Lucius.

Caleb produced a stater; but the prophet’s laugh of thunder sent him staggering back:

“Gold!” cried the prophet, laughing like thunder. “What do I want with dead gold! I have seen living gold; I have seen the Child That was radiant gold as the sun itself, radiant as the burning bush! What do I want with dead gold!”

“He’s mad! He’s mad!” cried Caleb. “He doesn’t want gold!”

And, terrified, Caleb slipped back the stater—but into another purse, in which he collected his savings—and rushed to his camel, which was already kneeling in the sand.

In the light of the stars that twinkled over the sea of sand the travellers rode back to Memphis.