He paused and bowed his head, and then went on: 

“Of these matters thou shalt hear more hereafter.  Meanwhile, thou hast much to learn.  To-morrow I will give thee letters, and thou shalt journey down the Nile, past white-walled Memphis to Annu.  There thou shalt sojourn certain years, and learn more of our ancient wisdom beneath the shadow of those secret pyramids of which thou, too, art the Hereditary High Priest that is to be.  And meanwhile, I will sit here and watch, for my hour is not yet, and, by the help of the Gods, spin the web of Death wherein thou shalt catch and hold the wasp of Macedonia.

“Come hither, my son; come hither and kiss me on the brow, for thou art my hope, and all the hope of Egypt.  Be but true, soar to the eagle crest of destiny, and thou shalt be glorious here and hereafter.  Be false, fail, and I will spit upon thee, and thou shalt be accursed, and thy soul shall remain in bondage till that hour when, in the slow flight of time, the evil shall once more grow to good and Egypt shall again be free.”

I drew near, trembling, and kissed him on the brow.  “May all these things come upon me, and more,” I said, “if I fail thee, my father!”

“Nay!” he cried, “not me, not me; but rather those whose will I do.  And now go, my son, and ponder in thy heart, and in thy secret heart digest my words; mark what thou shalt see, and gather up the dew of wisdom, making thee ready for the battle.  Fear not for thyself, thou art protected from all ill.  No harm may touch thee from without; thyself alone can be thine own enemy.  I have said.”

Then I went forth with a full heart.  The night was very still, and none were stirring in the temple courts.  I hurried through them, and reached the entrance to the pylon that is at the outer gate.  Then, seeking solitude, and, as it were, to draw near to heaven, I climbed the pylon’s two hundred steps, until at length I reached the massive roof.  Here I leaned my breast against the parapet, and looked forth.  As I looked, the red edge of the full moon floated up over the Arabian hills, and her rays fell upon the pylon where I stood and the temple walls beyond, lighting the visages of the carven Gods.  Then the cold light struck the stretch of well-tilled lands, now whitening to the harvest, and as the heavenly lamp of Isis passed up to the sky, her rays crept slowly down to the valley, where Sihor, father of the land of Khem, rolls on toward the sea.

Now the bright beams kissed the water that smiled an answer back, and now mountain and valley, river, temple, town, and plain were flooded with white light, for Mother Isis was arisen, and threw her gleaming robe across the bosom of the earth.  It was beautiful, with the beauty of a dream, and solemn as the hour after death.  Mightily, indeed, the temples towered up against the face of night.  Never had they seemed so grand to me as in that hour—­those eternal shrines, before whose walls Time himself shall wither.