of drowsy security came over me.
Suddenly she straightened, revealed her face and demanded, “Turms, where are you?”
Her face grew black and shiny before my eyes, her mantle was ornamented with the breasts of Amazons, the moon was her headdress, and lions lay at her feet. I felt the sacred woolen bonds of Artemis binding my limbs. Artemis herself stood before me, no longer a statue toppled from the sky, but alive and threatening and with a merciless smile on her face.
“Where are you?” repeated the voice.
With a tremendous effort I could move my tongue. “Artemis, Artemis!” I cried. -
A merciful hand was laid over my eyes, my whole body sighed and I was freed of the oppression. The moon no longer had me in its power.
“I will liberate you from the hold of the strange goddess if you wish and promise to serve only me. Reject the melancholy of the moon and I will give you joy and sunshine.”
I whispered, or at least think I did, “You foam-born, I consecrated myself to you long before Artemis had me in her power. Never again forsake me.”
I heard a roaring in my ears, the couch swayed beneath me and a voice repeated over and over again, “Where are you, Turms? Awaken. Open your eyes.”
I opened my eyes and said in amazement, “I see a lovely valley above which rise snowcapped mountains. I smell the fragrance of herbs, and the slope of the valley is warm to lie upon. I have never seen a more beautiful valley, but I am alone. I see no houses, no path, not a single person.”
From a vast distance I heard a voice whisper, “Return, Turms. Come back. Where are you?”
Once again I opened my eyes. It was night and I stood in a strange room. With a catch of my breath I recognized Kydippe lying in bed. She was sleeping with her lips parted, and she sighed as she slept. Suddenly she awakened, saw me and attempted to cover her nakedness. But upon recognizing my face she began to smile and her hand paused. I ran to her and embraced her. She started to scream, then relaxed in my arms and let me do as I wished. But her girl’s lips were cold under my mouth, her heart did not pound against my own, and when I released her and she covered her eyes in shame I knew that I had nothing in common with her.
A groan of disappointment escaped me, and when I opened my eyes again I was lying on the couch in the temple of Aphrodite of Eryx with my arms stiffly upraised. On the edge of the couch sat that strange woman who had talked to me and who was trying to hold my arms down.
“What has happened, Turms?” she asked and bowed her head to look at my face in the lamplight.
I saw that she had removed the stiffly-embroidered robe, the necklace and the armbands. They lay on the floor, as did the veil and the wreath. She was wearing only a thin shift and her fair hair was combed to the top of her head. The shape of her high, thin brows made her eyes appear slanting. As she leaned toward me I knew that I had never before seen her, yet I felt that she was familiar.
My arms slackened and fell to my sides. My limbs were exhausted as after hard labor. She touched my brows, chest and mouth with her fingertips and absently began to draw a, circle on my bare chest. Her face suddenly paled and I noticed to my surprise that she was weeping.
Frightened, I asked, “What has happened?”
“Nothing,” she snapped and abruptly withdrew her hand.
“Why are you weeping?”
She shook her head so sharply that a tear dropped onto my chest. “I am not weeping.” Then she slapped my cheek and demanded angrily, “Who is that Kydippe whose name you repeated so ecstatically?”
“Kydippe? It was because of her that I came here. She is the granddaughter of the tyrant of Himera. But I no longer have any desire for her. I took what I wanted and the goddess freed me of her.”
“That is good,” she said capriciously. “That is very good. Why don’t you go your way if you got what you wanted?” She raised her hand as though to strike me once more, but I caught her wrist. It was narrow and beautiful in my hand.
“Why do you strike me?” I asked. “I have not harmed you.”
“Haven’t you! No man has hurt me as you have. Why don’t you leave and never return to Eryx?”
“I can’t, for you are sitting on me. Besides, you are clutching my robe.”
She had in truth wrapped a corner of my robe around her knees as though she were cold.
“Who are you?” I asked, touching her white neck.
She started and cried out, “Don’t touch me! I hate those hands of yours!”
When I tried to rise she pushed me back, bent over me and hotly kissed my mouth. She did it so unexpectedly that I did not realize what had happened until she had straightened again and was sitting on the edge of the couch with chin haughtily upraised.
I caught her hand. “Let us talk sensibly like human beings, for you are a human and my kind. What has happened? Why have you wept and struck me?”
She curled her hand into a fist but permitted me to hold it. “It was useless for you to come here for aid, for you know more about the goddess than 1.1 am but the body in which the goddess manifests herself, but your power has entered into me and I can do nothing. I don’t understand what has happened. I should have taken my clothes and left, and upon awakening you would have considered your vision the answer to your problem. I don’t know why I remained here. Tell me, are you really awake?”
I felt my head and body. “I think so. Yet a moment ago I could have sworn that I also was awake. I have never experienced anything like this.”
“Probably not. And I suppose that women have never cared for you since you have to seek the goddess’s aid.”
Holding her little fist in my hand I stared at her. “Your lips arc beautiful. I know the curve of your brows and also your eyes and cheeks. Are you one of the returned? I seem to recognize you.”
“The returned?” she asked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I wound my arm around her shoulders and drew her to me. Her body was stiff but she did not resist.
“Your arms are cold,” I said. “Permit me to warm you with my body. Or is it already morning?”
She glanced at the sky through the opening. “Not yet. But why are you still interested in me? Why should you warm me with your body? You have already had what you wanted.” Suddenly she buried her face in my neck and began to weep bitterly. “Don’t be angry with me if I am troublesome. The dark of the moon always makes me capricious. Usually I do humbly what is requested, but you make me obstinate.”
Through the thin cloth I felt the softness of her limbs and shivers passed over my body. I seemed to be standing hesitantly on a threshold over which there would be no return once I passed it.
“Tell me your name,” I pleaded, “so that I may know you and talk to you.”
She shook her head stubbornly. Her hair escaped the combs and tumbled onto my chest. As she pressed her face against my neck she-embraced me with both arms.
“If you knew my name you would have me in your power. Don’t you understand?-I belong to the goddess. I cannot and must not be-dominated by any man.”
“You cannot escape me,” I told her. “In starting a new life a person chooses a new name. At this very moment I am giving you a new name.. It will be yours and through it I will hold you-Arsinoe.”
“Arsinoe,” she repeated slowly. “How did you invent that? Have. you known an Arsinoe?”
“Never,” I assured her. “The name just came to my mind. It came: from somewhere or was in me, for a person does not invent names by himself.”
“Arsinoe,” she said again, as though savoring the name. “What if I don’t accept the name you have given me? What right have you to. re-name me?”
“Arsinoe,” I whispered, “when I warm you like this in my lap and. wrap the woolen mantle of the goddess around you, you are the most familiar of all persons to me although I don’t know you.” I thought for a moment. “You are not a Greek, that I can hear from your speech. Nor can you be a Phoenician for your face is not copper-colored. You are, white as foam. Could you be a descendant of Trojan refugees?”
“Why concern yourself with my nationality? The goddess does not distinguish between nationalities or clans, languages or colors of skin.. She chooses people at random, makes the fair still fairer and beautifies even the ugly. But tell me, Turms, do you now see my face as it really is?”
She turned to me and I studied her. “Never have I seen a face as vivid and changing as yours, Arsinoe. Your every thought is reflected in it. Now I understand that the goddess gives you an infinite number of faces and each
