"Chrysis . . ."

She sang in a monotonous chant.

"Chrysis, thy hair is like a swarm of bees hanging on a tree.

The hot wind of the south penetrates it with the dew of love-battles and the wet perfume of night-flowers."

The young woman alternated, in a softer, lower voice:

"My hair is like an endless river in the plain when the flame-lit evening fades."

And they sang, one after the other:

"Thine eyes are like blue water-lilies without stalks, motionless upon the pools."

"Mine eyes rest in the shadow of my lashes like deep lakes under dark branches."

"Thy lips are two delicate flowers stained with the blood of a roe."

"My lips are the edges of a burning wound."

"Thy tongue is the b.l.o.o.d.y dagger that has made the wound of thy mouth."

"My tongue is inlaid with precious stones. It is red with the sheen of my lips."

"Thine arms are tapering as two ivory tusks, and thy armpits are two mouths."

"Mine arms are tapering as two lily-stalks and my fingers hang therefrom like five petals."

"Thy thighs are two white elephants' trunks. They bear thy feet like two red flowers."

"My feet are two nenuphar-leaves upon the water: My thighs are two bursting nenuphar buds."

"Thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s are two silver bucklers with cusps steeped in blood."

"My b.r.e.a.s.t.s are the moon and the reflection of the moon and the water."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Huddled against the wall, Djala bethought herself of the love-songs of India.]

"Thy navel is a deep pit in a desert of red sand, and thy belly a young kid lying on its mother's breast."

"My navel is a round pearl on an inverted cup, and the curve of my belly is the clear crescent of Phbe in the forests."

There was a silence. The slave raised her hands and bowed to the ground.

The courtesan proceeded:

"It is like a purple flower, full of perfumes and honey."

"It is like a sea-serpent, soft and living, open at night."

"It is the humid grotto, the ever-warm lodging, the Refuge where man reposes from his march to death."

The prostrate one murmured very low:

"It is appalling. It is the face of Medusa."

Chrysis planted her foot upon the slave's neck and said with trembling:

"Djala."

The night had come on little by little, but the moon was so luminous that the room was filled with blue light.

Chrysis looked at the motionless reflections of her naked body where the shadows fell very black.

She rose brusquely:

"Djala, what are we thinking of? It is night, and I have not yet gone out. There will be nothing left upon the heptastadion but sleeping sailors. Tell me, Djala, I am beautiful?"

"Tell me, Djala, I am more beautiful than ever to-night? I am the most beautiful of the Alexandrian women, and you know it? Will not he who shall presently pa.s.s within the sidelong glance of my eyes follow me like a dog? Shall I not perform my pleasure upon him, and make a slave of him according to my whim, and can I not expect the most abject obedience from the first man whom I shall meet? Dress me, Djala."

Djala twined two silver serpents about her arms. On her feet she fixed sandals and attached them to her brown legs with crossed leather straps.

Over her warm belly Chrysis herself buckled a maiden's girdle, which sloped down from the upper part of the loins along the hollow line of the groins; in her ears she hung great circular rings, on her neck three golden phallus-bracelets enchased at Paphos by the hierodules. She contemplated herself for some time, standing naked in her jewels; then, drawing from the coffer in which she had folded it, a vast transparent stuff of yellow linen, she twisted it about her and draped herself in it to the ground. Diagonal folds intersected the little that one saw of her body through the light tissue; one of her elbows stood out under the light tunic, and the other arm, which she had left bare, carried the long train high out of reach of the dust.

She took her feather fan in her hand, and carelessly sauntered forth.

Standing upon the steps of the threshold, with her hand leaning on the white wall, Djala watched the courtesan's retreating form.