ful,
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.

"