“Do you mean that you are the goddess Isis?” I asked, bewildered.  “Because if so why did you tell me that you were but her priestess?”

“Have it as thou wilt, Allan.  All sounds do not reach thine ears; all sights are not open to thy eyes and therefore thou art both half deaf and blind.  Perchance now that her shrines are dust and her worship is forgot, some spark of the spirit of that immortal Lady whose chariot was the moon, lingers on the earth in this woman’s shape of mine, though her essence dwells afar, and perchance her other name is Nature, my mother and thine, O Allan.  At the least hath not the World a soul—­and of that soul am I not mayhap a part, aye, and thou also?  For the rest are not the priest and the Divine he bows to, oft the same?”

It was on my lips to answer, Yes, if the priest is a knave or a self-deceiver, but I did not.

“Farewell, Allan, and let Ayesha’s benison go with thee.  Safe shalt thou reach thy home, for all is prepared to take thee hence, and thy companions with thee.  Safe shalt thou live for many a year, till thy time comes, and then, perchance, thou wilt find those whom thou hast lost more kind than they seemed to be to-night.”

She paused awhile, then added,

“Hearken unto my last word!  As I have said, much that I have told thee may bear a double meaning, as is the way of parables, to be interpreted as thou wilt.  Yet one thing is true.  I love a certain man, in the old days named Kallikrates, to whom alone I am appointed by a divine decree, and I await him here.  Oh, shouldest thou find him in the world without, tell him that Ayesha awaits him and grows weary in the waiting.  Nay, thou wilt never find him, since even if he be born again, by what token would he be known to thee?  Therefore I charge thee, keep my secrets well, lest Ayesha’s curse should fall on thee.  While thou livest tell naught of me to the world thou knowest.  Dost thou swear to keep my secrets, Allan?”

“I swear, Ayesha.”

“I thank thee, Allan,” she answered, and grew silent for a while.

At length Ayesha rose and drawing herself up to the full of her height, stood there majestic.  Next she beckoned to me to come near, for I too had risen and left the dais.

I obeyed, and bending down she held her hands over me as though in blessing, then pointed towards the curtains which at this moment were drawn asunder, by whom I do not know.

I went and when I reached them, turned to look my last on her.

There she stood as I had left her, but now her eyes were fixed upon the ground and her face once more was brooding absently as though no such a man as I had ever been.  It came into my mind that already she had forgotten me, the plaything of an hour, who had served her turn and been cast aside.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT UMSLOPOGAAS SAW

Like one who drams I passed down the outer hall where stood the silent guards as statues might, and out through the archway.  Here I paused for a moment, partly to calm my mind in the familiar surroundings of the night, and partly because I thought that I heard someone approaching me through the gloom, and in such a place where I might have many enemies, it was well to be prepared.