"In my country the Owls say that, too," was the Sparrow's pert remark.
The Sphinx looked at him angrily. "The Owl is a conceited boaster!" he cried excitedly.
"Excuse me!" stammered the Sparrow, frightened. "I did not wish to insult you. You look much older than the Owl."
"Indeed I am, I count my years by the thousands."
"How much you must have seen!" cried the Sparrow.
The Sphinx opened her gigantic mouth and yawned so hugely that the sand flew about her as tho a whirlwind had hit it.
"Since the year 1000," said she, "I always see the same; I see people who have riches and joy, forcing their starving slaves to drudge. At first the slaves were driven with whips which the overseer used to beat them with when they became tired from the heat of the sun. Often these slaves were kept at work with chains on their feet so that they should not run away. Later the whips disappeared, the masters bragged of their kindness, saying, 'In these progressive times, no man is a slave.' But secretly they concealed a dreadful whip, Hunger, and this drove the people to slavery as surely as the whip they had used previously. I see people pass here, rich strangers who visit this country out of curiosity, and see the poor Arabs, who work as muleteers and drag heavy stones, and are barely kept alive with a few dates and a little corn, just like their ancestors thousands of years ago."
The Sphinx became silent, gazing gloomily at the desert. Then she spoke again, "For thousands of years there were gorgeously dressed, jeweled priests here, who belonged in the same class as the rich people. They preached to the people, threatening them with the anger of the gods if they became dissatisfied with their fate. Today these priests are dressed in black, but they also lie and stand by the rich ones, they also worship a God who was a bad mechanic.
