I knocked at the door of the first inn I saw. An old woman opened it. 'Good afternoon, Mother,' I said. 'Is this the town of Hypata?'
She nodded without speaking.
'You know a man named Milo, one of the first citizens of the place?'
'Well, you might call him that, I suppose,' she answered with a grin, 'because his house is one of the first that you come to. It's built in the space, just outside the city walls, where the official auspices are taken.'
'Joking apart, would you mind letting me know what sort of a man he is and telling me how to reach his house?'
'Do you see that last row of windows facing the city, with a gate on the other side opening on a blind alley? That's where Milo lives-a fabulously rich old man and a disgrace to the whole district-the meanest, most miserly, dirtiest fellow you ever saw. He's a money-lender-high interest is the only dung that has ever interested him highly-and lives shut up there in that big bare house, gloating all day over his stacks of coin. Nobody lives with him except his unfortunate wife and one slave-girl; and when, very occasionally, he does go out, he dresses like a common beggar.'
As I rode off I laughed to myself: 'My friend Demeas has certainly given me a valuable letter of introduction. While I'm staying with Milo I need not at least be afraid of smoky fires or pervasive kitchen smells.'
Soon I reached the gate at which the old woman had pointed and found it stoutly barred. I banged at it and shouted 'Hullo, hullo there!'
After a time the slave-girl came out and asked: 'Was it you who made that dreadful noise?'
'It was I who knocked.'
'Well, where's your gold or silver? You must be the only man in Hypata who doesn't know our terms: no cash advanced, except on a pledge of equal weight in precious metal.'
'Not at all the way to speak to visitors,' I said severely. 'Is your master at home?'
'Of course he is. But what's your business?'
'I have come with a letter of introduction to him from Demeas the Corinthian.'
'Wait here, while I give him your message.' She barred the gate again and went back into the house. Presently she reappeared: 'My master says, will you please come in?'
I found Milo in his dining-room, stretched out on a very narrow couch and just beginning his dinner. His wife sat perched precariously at his feet.
He waved a hand at the almost bare table and said: 'Just in time for a meal.'
I thanked him and handed him the letter, which he hurriedly read. 'I'm grateful to Demeas,' he said, 'for giving me an opportunity to meet so fine a young man as yourself.' Then, apparently because there was dinner enough only for two, he sent his wife away and asked me to sit down in her place. Naturally I hesitated, but he caught hold of my tunic and steered me to the seat. 'Sit down, sit down, my lord,' he said. 'You will excuse the inconvenient shortage of chairs and other furniture. It's a necessary precaution against burglary.'
I sat down.
'I guessed at once from the neatness of your dress and the correctness of your behaviour that you must be a man of good family, and from Demeas's letter I now see that I was right; but please don't despise our little cottage. The spare bedroom which adjoins this room is at your disposal; if you can manage to make yourself comfortable there you will be doing us a great honour, and at the same time earning credit such as the famous Theseus earned-I notice that your father's name is Theseus too-when he condescended to accept the hospitality of poor old Hecale.'
Before I had the opportunity of eating anything he called the girl: 'Fotis, take this gentleman's bag into the spare bedroom and lay it carefully down somewhere. Then fetch a towel from the cupboard, and a little flask of toilet-oil, and take him along to the nearest public baths. He must be hot and tired after his long journey.'
I saw at once how extraordinarily mean Milo was, but decided to humour him. I said: 'Please don't trouble about the oil or the towel. I always carry that sort of thing in my bags, and there's no need for your girl to escort me, either: I can easily find my way to the baths. My only anxiety at the moment is for my horse. He deserves a reward for having carried me here so willingly. Please, Fotis, would you mind buying him a good feed of hay and oats? Here's the money.'
I went into the yard and lounged about until my horse had been fed and Fotis had arranged my things neatly in the bedroom. Then I went towards the baths, first visiting the provision market to buy something for my supper. There was plenty of fish for sale, and though I was first asked two hundred drachmae[3] a basket, eventually I beat a fishmonger down to twenty, paid him and walked off with my purchase. As I left the market, a man named Pythias, who had been one of my fellow-students at Athens, happened to be walking in the same direction. He recognized me first and gave me a most friendly embrace.
'Why, if it isn't my friend Lucius! Heavens, what years it seems since we studied together under old Dositheus! And from that day to this I have never heard the least news of you. Tell me, my dear fellow, what in the world brings you here?'
'We must have a long talk tomorrow. But, Pythias, what's this I see? A magistrate's robe, and a posse of constables armed with truncheons marching behind you? My heartiest congratulations!'
He explained: 'I am now Inspector-General of Markets, so if I can be of any service in helping you to buy something for your supper, please call on me.'
'How kind of you! But I have just bought myself a few pounds of fish.'
'Let me have a look at them.' He took the basket from me, shook the fish about so that he could inspect them more closely, and then asked: 'Do you mind telling me what you paid for this refuse?'
'It took me a long time to beat the fishmonger down to twenty drachmae.'
'Which fishmonger? Point him out to me.'
I pointed back at a little old man seated in a corner of the market. Pythias at once began abusing him in his severest official tones: 'Hey, you, is this the way to treat the Inspector-General's friends, or for that matter any visitor at all who comes to buy in the provision market? Asking no less than twenty drachmae, twenty drachmae indeed, for these absurd little tiddlers! Hypata is the most prosperous town in all Thessaly, but with fellows like you forcing up food prices to such a preposterous height we might as well be living in the rocky wilderness. And don't think that you're going to escape with a mere reprimand. By Heaven, I intend to keep you rogues in check, so long as I hold my present appointment.'
He emptied the basket on the ground, ordering one of his constables to jump on the fish and squash them into paste on the pavement. Beaming moral satisfaction with his own severity, Pythias advised me to go home. 'All is well now, Lucius,' he said cheerfully. 'You need say no more. I am satisfied that the little wretch has been sufficiently humiliated.'
My knowledgeable old fellow-student! Flabbergasted at having lost both my supper and my money as the result of his kind intervention, I went on to the baths where I spent the afternoon resting.
At nightfall I returned to Milo's hospitable house, and had not been long in my bedroom before Fotis came in. 'The master is expecting you at the supper-table,' she said.
Remembering Milo's frugal habits I sent him a polite message, begging to be excused: 'Explain to him, please, that I'm so tired after my ride that I need sleep more than food.'
Fotis took my message in and presently Milo himself appeared, grabbed hold of my wrist and politely tried to drag me off with him to the supper room. 'No, no, really, I'm not hungry,' I protested.
'I won't stir from here until you consent to come with me,' he declared, still clutching my wrist and raising his other hand as if he were taking an oath in court. So I had to give in, and he led me again to the same shabby old couch, where he seated me at the foot-end, before lying down himself. Supper had not yet been served.
'Now tell me,' he said. 'How is our mutual friend Demeas? All's well with him, I hope? And how is his wife? Are his children in good health? Any trouble with the servants?'
I answered him in detail. Next, he demanded an exact account of the business affairs that I had come to settle in Hypata, and again I satisfied his curiosity. Still no supper. Then he wanted to know all about conditions in my native province, and asked for full biographical details of all our leading citizens. When he finally started cross-examining me on the personal affairs of our Governor-General, I began to nod-the journey had been wearisome enough but this talk was worse-and kept stopping short in the middle of sentences, or getting my words mixed up. He saw that I was dead tired and kindly allowed me to go to bed.
How glad I was to escape from the smelly old bore! Though I had dined only on conversation, the heavy sleep that was now overpowering me would be as welcome as a heavy meal. I stumbled along to my bedroom and slept like a log.
***
The next morning I awoke early and rose at once. I have an almost morbid interest in everything queer and out of the way, and I remembered that here I was in the heart of Thessaly, a province notorious as the native home of magic and sorcery; and in the very city, too, which had been the scene of Aristomenes's story. So I looked around me with more than usual excitement, carefully examining everything within view. How could I be sure that anything in the whole city was what it seemed to be? Obsessed with the idea that the evil power of witches might have been everywhere at work, I wondered whether the stones I kicked against were really, perhaps, petrified men, and whether the birds I heard singing were people in feathered disguise-like Procne, Tereus and Philomela in the myth-and I began to entertain doubts about the trees around the house, and even about the faucets through which the fountains played. I was quite prepared when I visited the town to see the statues and the images of gods step from their pedestals, or hear the walls speak, have strange news told me by oxen and other cattle; or even to be granted an oracle from the sun in the sky.
In this stupid and overwrought mood, though nowhere finding the least justification for my suspicions, I wandered all round the town from door to door, and at last found myself once again in the provision market. A woman came by with a crowd of servants in attendance; her long jewelled ear-rings and the jewel-studded embroidery on her dress showing her to be of high rank. At her side walked a dignified old man who cried out as soon as he saw me: 'Bless my soul! Here's Lucius.' He came forward and embraced me, and then going back to the lady whispered something in her ear, after which he came forward again and challenged me: 'Come, come, Lucius, why don't you go along and give her an affectionate kiss?'
'I could never take such a liberty with a lady to whom I have not the honour of being introduced,' I stammered, with a deep blush, staying where I was and looking down at my feet. She was staring attentively at me. 'Really,' she exclaimed, 'the resemblance is extraordinary. Salvia had exactly the same slenderness and upright carriage, the same rosy cheeks and delicate skin, the same yellow hair neatly dressed, the same alert, shining grey eyes that used to remind me of an eagle's, the same graceful way of walking.' Then she said: 'I nursed you as a baby, Lucius. But there's nothing so strange about that, because your dear mother and I were not only maternal cousins (the celebrated Plutarch was our grandfather) but foster-sisters, brought up together in the same house. In fact, the only difference in rank between us is that she married a nobleman, I married a commoner. Byrrhaena is my name-your mother must often have mentioned it when telling you about your early childhood. You must come to stay with me at once, and treat my house as your home.'
By this time I had recovered from my embarrassment. I explained that nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to accept her invitation, but that unfortunately I was now Milo's guest and to leave his house for another in the same town would be extremely discourteous. 'But I shall be most happy to see as much of you as my obligations to Milo permit: whenever I come into the town I shall call on you without fail.'
Byrrhaena lived only a short distance away, and I was soon admiring the inner courtyard of her house, with its ormamental pillars at the four corners, surmounted by winged Victories. The figures were extraordinarily life-like, each hovering palm-branch in hand on outspread wings, her dewy feet so lightly poised on a motionless globe that you would never have guessed that they were carved from the same block of stone-they seemed to be on the point of soaring off again. But a sculptured group of Parian marble which stood in the very centre of the court interested me still more and put everything else into proper perspective. It was a Diana with hounds; wonderful work. The Goddess seemed to be striding towards you as you entered, her tunic blown back by the wind, and awing you by the majesty of her presence. The brace of hounds that she held in leash were balanced on their hind legs, ready to bound off in a flash. They looked so menacing with their fierce eyes, pricked ears, dilated nostrils and snarling jaws, that if any other dog near by had suddenly barked you would have thought for the moment that the sound came from their white marble throats. Behind the Goddess was a cavern, its entrance carpeted in moss, grass, fallen leaves and brushwood, with shrubs and creepers growing here and there; the back was a highly polished slab which mirrored her shoulders; and under the lip hung apples and grapes, ripe for eating, so exquisitely carved that you fancied yourself in mid-August. And when you looked down at the rivulet which seemed to spring and ripple from the Goddess's footprints, you found it as life-like as the clusters of grapes. But this was not all: from the tangle of branches appeared the face of Actaeon peeping eagerly out, already half-transformed into a stag-as also showed in the reflection of the scene carved on the surface of the water-which was his punishment for spying on the Goddess when she was about to bathe.
As I was examining the group with delighted curiosity, Byrrhaena said: 'Cousin, this is all for you.' Then she sent off the servants and said to me in a low voice: 'In the name of this Goddess, the Goddess of Chastity, dear Lucius, I beg you to be on your guard. I find it difficult to express my anxiety for you in your present situation; but please understand that my feelings for you arc almost as tender as if you were my own son. I must give you a warning, a very solemn warning, against Milo's wife Pamphil? who, I fear, will try to fascinate you by magic. She is a well-known witch and said to be a past mistress of every sort of necromancy: so much so, that merely by breathing on twigs, stones and so on,
She can transfer the light, the starry sky,
To the dark depths of Hell and thus restore
The reign of primal Chaos…
She falls in love with every handsome young man she sets eyes on, and at once decides to possess him. She begins her campaign with flattering advances and as a rule makes a quick conquest, after which she binds him to her with the unbreakable fetters of lust; but whenever she meets with resistance, her rage and hatred are so violent that she thinks nothing of petrifying her victim on the spot, or transforming him into a ram or a bull or a wild beast, or killing him out of hand. You can imagine my concern on your behalf, because Pamphil? is a nymphomaniac and you're exactly the type of good-looking young man that would most attract her.'
But I was naturally adventurous, and as soon as Byrrhaena mentioned the black art, which always held a peculiar attraction for me, so far from feeling inclined to be on my guard against Pamphil? I had an irresistible impulse to study magic under her, however much money it might cost me, and take a running leap into the dark abyss against which I had been warned. My mind had taken fire; I disengaged my hand from Byrrhaena's almost as though I were snapping a chain, and left her with an abrupt goodbye. I set off at a run for Milo's house, and as I raced madly through the streets I was saying to myself: 'Now for it, Lucius! But have your wits about you, because here at last you have a chance: your secret ambition has always been to study the laws of magic.[4] Forget your childish terrors. Face this new undertaking boldly and practically-though of course you must avoid any entanglement with Pamphil?. To go to bed with your worthy host's wife would be a disgraceful failure in good manners. On the other hand, there's no reason why you shouldn't try to seduce Fotis; the girl is not only beautiful, lively and amusing but already half in love with you. Last night when you went to bed, she led you to your room, turned your sheets down, tucked you tenderly in, then gave you a charming good-night kiss and showed quite plainly how sorry she was to leave you. Remember how she kept stopping on her way to the door and looking back at you? The very best of luck to you, then, Lucius; but, whatever may come of it, good or bad, my advice is: go for Fotis.' My mind was now made up, and when I reached Milo's house I marched in as confidently as a Senator leading the Ayes into the division lobby.
I found nobody at home but my charming Fotis who was preparing pork-rissoles for her master and mistress, while the appetizing smell of haggis-stew drifted to my nostrils from an earthenware casserole on the stove. She wore a neat white house-dress, gathered in below the breasts with a red silk band, and as she alternately stirred the casserole and shaped the rissoles with her pretty hands, the twisting and turning made her whole body quiver seductively.
The sight had so powerful an effect on me that for awhile I stood rooted in admiration; and so did something else. As last I found my voice. 'Dear Fotis,' I said, 'how daintily, how charmingly you stir that casserole: I love watching you wriggle your hips. And what a wonderful cook you are! The man whom you allow to poke his finger into your little casserole is the luckiest fellow alive. That sort of stew would tickle the most jaded palate.'
She retorted over her shoulder: 'Go away, you scoundrel; keep clear of my little cooking stove! If you come too near even when the fire is low, a spark may fly out and set you on fire; and when that happens nobody but myself will be capable of putting the flames out. A wonderful cook, am I? Yes, I certainly know how to tickle a man's… well, his palate, if you care to call it that, and how to keep things nicely on the boil-between the sheets as well as on a kitchen-stove.'
She turned and laughed at me. I did not leave the kitchen until I had taken a careful look at her from head to foot. But for the moment I need only write about her head; the truth is that I have an obsession about hair. Whenever I meet a pretty woman, the first thing that catches my eye is her hair; I make a careful mental picture of it to carry home and brood over in private. This habit of mine I justify on a sound logical principle: that the hair is the most important and conspicuous feature of the body, and that its natural brilliance does for the head what gaily coloured clothes do for the trunk. In fact, it does a great deal more. You know how women, when they want to display their beauty to the full, shed their embroidered wraps and step out of their expensive dresses, and proudly reveal themselves with nothing on at all, aware that even the brightest gold tissue has less effect on a man than the delicate tints of a woman's naked body. But-and here you must excuse a horrible idea which I hope nobody will ever put into practice-if you shaved the head of even the most beautiful woman alive and so deprived her face of its natural setting, then I don't care whether she originally floated down from Heaven, and was reborn from sea-foam like the Goddess Venus-I don't even care whether she were Venus herself, with every one of the Graces and Cupids in attendance, Venus dripping with precious balsam and fragrant as cinnamon, and with the famous girdle of love clasped around her waist-the fact is, that her baldness would leave her completely without attraction even for so devoted a husband as the God Vulcan.
What joy it is to see hair of a beautiful colour caught in the full rays of the sun, or shining with a milder lustre and constantly varying its shade as the light shifts. Golden at one moment, at the next honey-coloured; or black as a raven's wing, but suddenly taking on the pale blueish tints of a dove's neck-feathers. Give it a gloss with spikenard lotion, part it neatly with a finely toothed comb, catch it up with a ribbon behind-and the lover will make it a sort of mirror to reflect his own delighted looks. And oh, when hair is bunched up in a thick luxurious mass on a woman's head or, better still, allowed to flow rippling down her neck in profuse curls! I must content myself by saying baldly that such is the glory of a woman's hair that though she may be wearing the most exquisite clothes and the most expensive jewellery in existence, with everything else in keeping, she cannot look even moderately well dressed unless she has done her hair in proper style.
Fotis, I grant, needed no expert knowledge of hairdressing: she could even indulge an apparent neglect of the art. Her way was to let her long, thick hair hang loosely down her neck, braiding the ends together and catching them up again with a broad ribbon to the top of her head; which was the exact spot where, unable to restrain myself a moment longer, I now printed a long passionate kiss.
She glanced back at me over her shoulder, and her keen eyes seemed to look straight into my heart. 'Oh, you schoolboy!' she said. 'Always greedy for anything sweet, without a thought for the bitter aftertaste. Today I may taste like honey, but I give you fair warning that before long you may feel me burning like gall at the back of your throat.'
'What do I care, you beautiful thing? I give you leave to lay me at full length on this fire and grill me brown, so long as you promise to soothe my agony with only a single kiss.' I threw my arms around her and kissed her again and again until she yielded. Then she returned my embraces with answering passion. Her breath smelled as sweet as cinnamon, and when she put her lips to mine she slipped the tip of her tongue in between them, which was like sampling nectar in Heaven. I gasped out: 'Oh, Fotis, this is killing me! Unless you take pity on me I'm as good as dead.'
Smothering me with kisses, she answered: 'You needn't worry about dying, if you can hold out a little longer. I love you, I'm utterly yours. At torch-time tonight I'll come to your bedroom. Now go away, and keep in good condition for tonight's battle. I'm going to fight you all night long with deadly courage.'
After a good deal more in the same strain, we parted; and about noon a complimentary present arrived from Byrrhaena. It consisted of a fat pig, a brace and a half of chickens, and a jar of vintage wine. I called Fotis. 'Look, darling,' I said. 'We didn't remember to invoke the God of Wine, did we? But he always aids and abets the Goddess of Love, so he's come of his own accord. Let's put the whole of this jar aside for tonight. It will rid us of all embarrassment and supply us with the energy we need for our work. In provisioning the ship of love for a night's cruise, one needs to make certain of two things only: that there's enough oil for the lamp and wine for the cup.'
I spent the afternoon at the baths, and on my return found that my two slaves, who had been following me on foot from Corinth, had just arrived and that Milo was expecting me to join him and Pamphil? at their tiny supper table. Fotis had put part of my gift to immediate use and forced Milo to be generous for once. A couch had been found for me, and with Byrrhaena's warning fresh in my mind I settled back on it so as to keep as far as possible out of Pamphil?'s view. But every now and then I stole a frightened glance in her direction, as if she were the deadly Lake of No Birds; but Fotis was waiting on us, so most of the time I followed her with my eyes and felt completely at my ease.
It was now growing dark and the table lamp was lighted. Pamphil? studied the wick[5] and pronounced: 'Tomorrow it will rain heavily.'
'How do you know that? Milo asked.
'Why, by the lamp.'
Milo laughed: 'We are evidently entertaining a famous Sibyl unawares. Every evening she surveys the universe from the watch tower of her lamp, and foretells what sort of a trip the sun is going to enjoy next day.'
I broke in: 'But is it really to be wondered at that this flame, though small and artificially lighted, should retain some memory of its father the sun, the prime source of fire, and so be able to foretell, by divine instinct, what is about to happen in the skies? I regard this as an elementary type of divination, compared with what I came across at Corinth recently. A Chaldaean astrologer had put the whole city in a flutter by his accurate answers to questions he was asked. For a fee he would tell people exactly on what day to marry, or on what day to lay the foundation-stone if they wanted a building to stand for ever, or on what day to conclude a business deal, or on what day to set out on a journey by land or sea. When I questioned him about this expedition of mine, his answers were strange and rather contradictory: he told me, for instance, that it would make me very famous and that I should write a long book about it which nobody, however, would take seriously.'
Milo laughed again: 'What did this Chaldaean of yours look like, and what did he call himself?'
'He was tall and rather dark. His name was Diophanes.'
'The very man who once came here to Hypata and made the same sort of predictions! He earned a lot of money, a small fortune, in fact, but in the end fate proved, well, unpropitious-or, if you like, malicious-or downright vicious. It happened like this. One day Diophanes stood in the middle of a crowd of people, all wanting to hear their own peculiar fates. A business man named Cerdo had just asked him to name a lucky day for travelling. Diophanes gave him the answer and Cerdo opened his purse and began counting out the fee of a hundred drachmae. At that moment a young nobleman came up from behind and tugged at Diophanes's robe. He turned round and they embraced affectionately. "Sit down, do sit down!" said Diophanes, and forgetting all about his pretended omniscience he said: "What a pleasure this is! I never expected to see you in these parts. When did you arrive?" The nobleman answered: "Only last night but, my dear fellow, you must explain your sudden departure from Euboea[6] and tell me what sort of a journey you had." Then Diophanes, thoroughly off his guard, cried out: "If only all my enemies and ill-wishers could meet with as much bad luck as I did on my way here. Odysseus's ten years' wanderings on his return from Troy were nothing to it. To begin with, our ship was struck by a sudden gale as soon as she put to sea, and tossed about from whirlpool to whirlpool, then both her rudders snapped, and finally just as we made the Thessalian coast she sank like a stone. Some of us managed to struggle ashore, but with the loss of all our belongings, and we had to beg or borrow money to help us on the next stage of our journey. And, as though all this had not been enough, we were attacked by bandits, and my brother Arignotus, who showed fight, was murdered before my very eyes."
'While Diophanes was still telling his sad story, Cerdo picked up his money again and slipped off, and it was only then that he came to himself and realized that he'd given away the whole show; for we were all shouting with laughter. Nevertheless, Lord Lucius, I sincerely hope that what this celebrated Chaldaean told you was the truth, though you may be the only man to whom he ever told it, and that you will continue to have a pleasant and prosperous journey.'
I groaned silently as Milo went maundering on. I was vexed with myself for having started him on a train of anecdotes at a time like this: I saw that I was in danger of losing the best part of the night and all the pleasures that it promised me. At last I yawned shamelessly and said: 'Please don't trouble to tell me any more about Diophanes. It's all the same to me what happens to him or where his bad luck carries him and, honestly, I don't care whether the waves or the bandits get the bigger share of his earnings the next time he's forced to disgorge. The fact is that I'm still suffering from the effects of my day-before-yesterday's ride and feel quite worn out. Please forgive me if I say good night at once and go straight to sleep.'
I rose and went to my bedroom. On the way I noticed that the palliasse which my two slaves shared in the inner courtyard had been moved as far as possible away from my door-evidently Fortis had taken this precaution against their over-hearing our love talk that night-and, inside, I found a feast waiting for me. My bedside table was covered with little dishes of tasty food saved from supper and generous cups of wine, with only just enough room left at the top for the necessary tempering with water, and there was a bell-mouthed decanter, handy for pouring out more wine. The scene suggested a gladiator's breakfast on the morning of a big fight.
By the time that I was in bed, Fotis, who had succeeded in getting her mistress of? to sleep quickly, appeared in the doorway with a bunch of roses. A rose in full bloom was tucked between her breasts. She glided towards me, kissed me firmly, wove some of the roses into a garland for my head and sprinkled the bed with the petals of the rest. Then she took a cup of wine, tempered it with hot water and put it to my lips; but before I could drain it she gently pulled it away and, gazing fixedly at me, took little sips at it, like a dove drinking, until it was empty. This performance she repeated two or three times.
The wine went to my head; but it also went to my thighs. I grew restive and, like a fallen soldier displaying a wound, pulled off my nightshirt and gave Fotis visible proof of my impatience. 'Have pity on me,' I said, 'and come quickly to my rescue. As you see I'm well armed and ready for the merciless battle to which you challenged me, the sort of battle in which no herald can intervene to part the combatants. Since the first of Cupid's sharp arrows lodged in my heart this morning, I have been standing to arms all day, and now my bow is strung so tight that I'm afraid something will snap if the Advance isn't sounded pretty soon. However, if you want my battle-ardour to burn more fiercely still, you darling, let your hair down so that it ripples all over your neck and shoulders.'
She snatched away the plates and dishes, pulled off every stitch of clothing, untied her hair and tossed it into happy disorder with a shake of her head. There she stood, transformed into a living statue: the Love-goddess rising from the sea. The flushed hand with which she pretended to screen her mount of Venus showed that she was well aware of the resemblance; certainly it was not held there from modesty.
'Now fight,' she challenged me. 'And you must fight hard, because I shall not retreat one inch, nor turn my back on you. Come on face to face if you're a man, strike home, do your very worst! Take me by storm, kill me, and die in the breach. No quarter given or accepted.'
She climbed into bed, flung one leg over me as I lay on my back, and crouching down like a wrestler, assaulted me with rapid plungings of her thighs and passionate wrigglings of her supple hips. My head swam. It was as though the apple-bough of love had bent down over me and I was gorging myself with the fruit until I could gorge no more; and at last with overpowered senses and dripping limbs Fotis and I fell into a simultaneous clinch, gasping out our lives.
However, after dosing ourselves with more wine, we presently revived and engaged in another style of unarmed combat; and continuously renewed our sleepless struggle, with intervals for refreshment, until daybreak.
This was the first night of many that we spent in the same exhilarating though exhausting sport.
