Caesar and Cleopatra | Page 8

AFFRIS (to the Persian). May we believe this, O subtle one?
PERSIAN. Which way come the Romans?
BEL AFFRIS. Over the desert, from the sea, by this very Sphinx.
PERSIAN (to Ftatateeta). O mother of guile! O aspic's tongue! You
have made up this tale so that we two may go into the desert and perish
on the spears of the Romans. (Lifting his knife) Taste death.
FTATATEETA. Not from thee, baby. (She snatches his ankle from

under him and flies stooping along the palace wall vanishing in the
darkness within its precinct. Bel Affris roars with laughter as the
Persian tumbles. The guardsmen rush out of the palace with Belzanor
and a mob of fugitives, mostly carrying bundles.)
PERSIAN. Have you found Cleopatra?
BELZANOR. She is gone. We have searched every corner.
THE NUBIAN SENTINEL (appearing at the door of the palace). Woe!
Alas! Fly, fly!
BELZANOR. What is the matter now?
THE NUBIAN SENTINEL. The sacred white cat has been stolen. Woe!
Woe! (General panic. They all fly with cries of consternation. The torch
is thrown down and extinguished in the rush. Darkness. The noise of
the fugitives dies away. Dead silence. Suspense. Then the blackness
and stillness breaks softly into silver mist and strange airs as the
windswept harp of Memnon plays at the dawning of the moon. It rises
full over the desert; and a vast horizon comes into relief, broken by a
huge shape which soon reveals itself in the spreading radiance as a
Sphinx pedestalled on the sands. The light still clears, until the upraised
eyes of the image are distinguished looking straight forward and
upward in infinite fearless vigil, and a mass of color between its great
paws defines itself as a heap of red poppies on which a girl lies
motionless, her silken vest heaving gently and regularly with the
breathing of a dreamless sleeper, and her braided hair glittering in a
shaft of moonlight like a bird's wing.
Suddenly there comes from afar a vaguely fearful sound (it might be
the bellow of a Minotaur softened by great distance) and Memnon's
music stops. Silence: then a few faint high-ringing trumpet notes. Then
silence again. Then a man comes from the south with stealing steps,
ravished by the mystery of the night, all wonder, and halts, lost in
contemplation, opposite the left flank of the Sphinx, whose bosom,
with its burden, is hidden from him by its massive shoulder.)
THE MAN. Hail, Sphinx: salutation from Julius Caesar! I have
wandered in many lands, seeking the lost regions from which my birth
into this world exiled me, and the company of creatures such as I
myself. I have found flocks and pastures, men and cities, but no other
Caesar, no air native to me, no man kindred to me, none who can do
my day's deed, and think my night's thought. In the little world yonder,

Sphinx, my place is as high as yours in this great desert; only I wander,
and you sit still; I conquer, and you endure; I work and wonder, you
watch and wait; I look up and am dazzled, look down and am darkened,
look round and am puzzled, whilst your eyes never turn from looking
out--out of the world--to the lost region--the home from which we have
strayed. Sphinx, you and I, strangers to the race of men, are no
strangers to one another: have I not been conscious of you and of this
place since I was born? Rome is a madman's dream: this is my Reality.
These starry lamps of yours I have seen from afar in Gaul, in Britain, in
Spain, in Thessaly, signalling great secrets to some eternal sentinel
below, whose post I never could find. And here at last is their
sentinel--an image of the constant and immortal part of my life, silent,
full of thoughts, alone in the silver desert. Sphinx, Sphinx: I have
climbed mountains at night to hear in the distance the stealthy footfall
of the winds that chase your sands in forbidden play--our invisible
children, O Sphinx, laughing in whispers. My way hither was the way
of destiny; for I am he of whose genius you are the symbol: part brute,
part woman, and part God--nothing of man in me at all. Have I read
your riddle, Sphinx?
THE GIRL (who has wakened, and peeped cautiously from her nest to
see who is speaking). Old gentleman.
CAESAR (starting violently, and clutching his sword). Immortal gods!
THE GIRL. Old gentleman: don't run away.
CAESAR (stupefied). "Old gentleman: don't run away!!!" This! To
Julius Caesar!
THE GIRL (urgently). Old gentleman.
CAESAR. Sphinx: you presume on your centuries. I am younger than
you, though your voice is but a girl's voice as yet.
THE GIRL. Climb up here, quickly; or the Romans will