The entreaty passed apparently unheard, for looking up and nestling in his embrace, she said, slowly,
“The vision which followed me was of magnificent war— war on land and sea— with clashing of arms and rush of armies, as if C?sar and Pompey were come again, and Octavius and Antony.
A cloud of dust and ashes arose and covered the world, and Rome was not any more; all dominion returned to the East; out of the cloud issued another race of heroes; and there were vaster satrapies and brighter crowns for giving away than were ever known.
And, son of Hur, while the vision was passing, and after it was gone, I kept asking myself,
‘What shall he not have who served the King earliest and best?’”
Again Ben-Hur recoiled.
The question was the very question which had been with him all day.
Presently he fancied he had the clew he wanted.
“So,” he said, “I have you now.
The satrapies and crowns are the things to which you would help me.
I see, I see!
And there never was such queen as you would be, so shrewd, so beautiful, so royal— never!
But, alas, dear Egypt! by the vision as you show it me the prizes are all of war, and you are but a woman, though Isis did kiss you on the heart.
And crowns are starry gifts beyond your power of help, unless, indeed, you have a way to them more certain than that of the sword.
If so, O Egypt, Egypt, show it me, and I will walk in it, if only for your sake.”
She removed his arm, and said,
“Spread your cloak upon the sand— here, so I can rest against the camel.
I will sit, and tell you a story which came down the Nile to Alexandria, where I had it.”
He did as she said, first planting the spear in the ground near by.
“And what shall I do?” he said, ruefully, when she was seated. “In Alexandria is it customary for the listeners to sit or stand?”
From the comfortable place against the old domestic she answered, laughing,
“The audiences of story-tellers are wilful, and sometimes they do as they please.”
Without more ado he stretched himself upon the sand, and put her arm about his neck.
“I am ready,” he said.
And directly she began:
HOW THE BEAUTIFUL CAME TO THE EARTH.
“You must know, in the first place, that Isis was— and, for that matter, she may yet be— the most beautiful of deities; and Osiris, her husband, though wise and powerful, was sometimes stung with jealousy of her, for only in their loves are the gods like mortals.
“The palace of the Divine Wife was of silver, crowning the tallest mountain in the moon, and thence she passed often to the sun, in the heart of which, a source of eternal light, Osiris kept his palace of gold too shining for men to look at.
“One time— there are no days with the gods— while she was full pleasantly with him on the roof of the golden palace, she chanced to look, and afar, just on the line of the universe, saw Indra passing with an army of simians, all borne upon the backs of flying eagles.
He, the Friend of Living Things— so with much love is Indra called— was returning from his final war with the hideous Rakshakas— returning victorious; and in his suite were Rama, the hero, and Sita, his bride, who, next to Isis herself, was the very most beautiful.
And Isis arose, and took off her girdle of stars, and waved it to Sita— to Sita, mind you— waved it in glad salute.
And instantly, between the marching host and the two on the golden roof, a something as of night fell, and shut out the view; but it was not night— only the frown of Osiris.
“It happened the subject of his speech that moment was such as none else than they could think of; and he arose, and said, majestically, ’Get thee home.
I will do the work myself.
To make a perfectly happy being I do not need thy help.
Get thee gone.’
“Now Isis had eyes large as those of the white cow which in the temple eats sweet grasses from the hands of the faithful even while they say their prayers; and her eyes were the color of the cows, and quite as tender.
And she too arose and said, smiling as she spoke, so her look was little more than the glow of the moon in the hazy harvest-month, ’Farewell, good my lord.
You will call me presently, I know; for without me you cannot make the perfectly happy creature of which you were thinking, any more’— and she stopped to laugh, knowing well the truth of the saying— ’any more, my lord, than you yourself can be perfectly happy without me.’
“‘We will see,’ he said.
“And she went her way, and took her needles and her chair, and on the roof of the silver palace sat watching and knitting.
“And the will of Osiris, at labor in his mighty breast, was as the sound of the mills of all the other gods grinding at once, so loud that the near stars rattled like seeds in a parched pod; and some dropped out and were lost.
And while the sound kept on she waited and knit; nor lost she ever a stitch the while.
“Soon a spot appeared in the space over towards the sun; and it grew until it was great as the moon, and then she knew a world was intended; but when, growing and growing, at last it cast her planet in the shade, all save the little point lighted by her presence, she knew how very angry he was; yet she knit away, assured that the end would be as she had said.
“And so came the earth, at first but a cold gray mass hanging listless in the hollow void.
Later she saw it separate into divisions; here a plain, there a mountain, yonder a sea, all as yet without a sparkle.
And then, by a river-bank, something moved; and she stopped her knitting for wonder.
The something arose, and lifted its hands to the sun in sign of knowledge whence it had its being.
And this First Man was beautiful to see.
And about him were the creations we call nature— the grass, the trees, birds, beasts, even the insects and reptiles.