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On the other, the Desert,
with its far-distant horizon, stretching away in undulations of
golden sand; not a tree, not a leaf, not a blade of grass, but
boundless liberty, an ocean of solid golden glory. For the sun was
setting, and the sky flamed into colour.
"A parting of the ways," said Jane; "a place of choice. How
difficult to know which to choose--liberty or fruitfulness. One
would have to consult the Sphinx--wise old guardian of the ages,
silent keeper of Time's secrets, gazing on into the future as It has
always gazed, while future became present, and present glided into
past.--Come, Schehati, let us descend. Oh, yes, I will certainly sit
upon the stone on which the King sat when he was Prince of Wales.
Thank you for mentioning it. It will supply a delightful topic of
conversation next time I am honoured by a few minutes of his
gracious Majesty's attention, and will save me from floundering into
trite remarks about the weather.--And now take me to the Sphinx,
Schehati.


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