you in my arms when you die.”
She faded before my eyes until the marble columns were again visible through her body. But I no longer doubted her reality.
An inexpressible joy swelled through me. I raised my hand in farewell and cried, “I thank you, guardian spirit! I believe you. And I will yearn for you as I will never yearn for any mortal woman. The longer I live, the more deeply I will yearn for you. You probably are my only true love, and if you are, try to understand me. Then, in my moment of greatest longing, as I embrace a mortal woman, I will perhaps be embracing you a little, too.”
She disappeared, and I was alone again by Aphrodite’s fountain in Eryx. I laid my hand on the marble floor. It was cold to my touch and I breathed deeply. I knew that I lived and existed and that I had not merely dreamed. In the silence of the night, under the starry sky, in the threatening light of the moon’s sickle, I sat by the ancient fountain of the goddess and felt a void within me.
At that moment a door creaked, I saw a light, and a priest came toward me across the courtyard, a Phoenician lamp in his hand. He threw its beams on me, recognized my face and demanded angrily, “How have you come here and why did you awaken me in the midst of my dream, accursed stranger?”
With his arrival the poison of the goddess again crept into my blood and my passion inflamed me as though glowing threads were searing my skin.
“I came to meet her,” I said, “that priestess who appears in the temple and makes the foolish imagine that they have met the goddess.”
“What do you want of her?” the priest asked, frowning deeply.
But the frown did not frighten me. “I want her,” I declared. “The poison of the goddess came from her into my body and I cannot free myself of her.”
After he had glared at me lethally for a time the priest became disconcerted and the lamp began to tremble in his hand.
“That is blasphemy, stranger. Shall I summon the guards? I have the right to have you killed as a profaner of the temple.”
“Call the guards if you wish,” I said cheerfully. “Let them kill me. 1 am sure that it would add to the reputation of your temple.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“You should know that,” I replied arrogantly. “Didn’t the funeral pyie in the temple yard offer evidence? Didn’t you recognize me from thz storm which wiped the roofs from the houses and deposited rubbk before your temple? But you may examine me still more if you wish.”
He laughed hollowly, tossed something into the fountain with a splash and commanded, “Look into the fountain, stranger, that I may examine you.”
As he raised the lamp I leaned over the edge of the fountain. I saw expanding and contracting ripples and the reflection of the lamp in the black water. I stared into the fountain until the water grew calm, ros? and wiped my kness and asked, “What now?”
He stared at me in disbelief. “Did you really look into the fountain or were your eyes closed?”
“I saw the ripples in the water and the reflection of your lamp, that is all.”
He swung the lamp slowly back and forth. Then at last he said, “Comz with me to the temple.”
I thanked him and he walked before me, lamp in hand. The air wai so still that the flame did not even flicker. As I followed him I felt the chill of the night on my skin but my body was so hot with desire that I did not shiver. We entered the temple, he placed the lamp on the empty pedestal of the goddess and lowered himself onto a copper- legged seat.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“That woman, whatever her name is,” I replied with equal patience. “The one with the changing face. I myself call her Arsinoe because it amuses me to do so.”
“You have had a Scythian drink,” he said. “Sleep your head clear and then come back and seek forgiveness.”
“Babble as you will, old man. I want her and I shall have her. With or without the assistance of the goddess.”
The furrow between his brows deepened until it almost split his head. In the light of the Phoenician lamp he leered at me with evil eyes.
“For tonight?” he asked. “Perhaps it can be arranged if you are sufficiently rich and keep the matter to yourself. Let us agree on it. I am an old man and would avoid wrangling. Probably the goddess has touched you with madness since you can no longer answer for your deeds. How much do you offer?”
“For one night? Nothing. That I can have whenever I wish. No, old man, you don’t understand. I want her completely. I intend to take her with me and live with her until either she dies or I die.”
Convulsed with rage, he leaped to his feet. “You don’t know what you are saying! You may die sooner than you think.”
“Don’t waste your declining strength,” I laughed. “Examine me instead, so that you may realize that I am in earnest.”
He raised his hand in a gesture of conjuration and his eyes widened to the size of drinking cups. I would have feared them had not my power remained in me. I withstood his stare smilingly, until he suddenly pointed to the floor and exclaimed, “Behold the serpent!”
I looked down and involuntarily retreated, for a gigantic snake took shape before my eyes. It was the length of many men and the thickness of a thigh, and as it wriggled its skin glistened in a checkered design. It shaped itself into supple coils and raised its flat head toward me.
“Aye,” I said, “you are more powerful than I thought, old man. I have heard that such a serpent once lived in the gorge at Delphi and guarded the Omphalos.”
“Beware!” cried the priest threateningly.
Like lightning the snake rose upright and wound itself around my limbs until I was completely enveloped in its coils and its head swayed menacingly before my face. I felt its cold skin. Its weight was unbearable. Panic swept over me.
Then I laughed. “I will gladly play with you if you wish, priest. But I am not afraid. Not of subterranean, not of earthly, not even of celestial things. Least of all do I fear what is not even real. But I am willing to play these childish games with you through the night, if you are amused. Perhaps I myself could show you something amusing if I were to try.”
“Don’t,” he said, breathing heavily. He passed a hand before his eyes and the snake disappeared, although I still felt its heavy coils on my skin. I shook myself, rubbed my limbs and smiled.
“You are a powerful old man,” I admitted. “But don’t tire yourself because of me. Sit down while I show you something that you perhaps would not want to see.”
“Don’t,” he repeated. Trembling, he sank onto the seat. Again he was but an old man with sharp eyes and a furrow between his brows. After many deep breaths he asked in a completely changed voice, “Who are you, stranger?”
“If you don’t want to recognize me, I will gladly remain unknown,” I said.
“But you must realize that you are asking the impossible. Your very request blasphemes the goddess. Surely you don’t want to enrage her even though you dare provoke me, a powerless man.”
“I don’t want to enrage or provoke anyone,” I said amiably. “I am certainly not blaspheming the goddess. On the contrary. Don’t you realize, old man, that I am honoring the goddess by requesting her priestess for myself?”
Suddenly he began to weep. Covering his face with his hand he swayed back and forth. “The goddess has abandoned me,” he moaned. Wiping the tears from his beard he continued in a shrill voice, “You cannot be a human, although you are in a human guise! A human could not have resisted the spell of the snake. That gigantic serpent is the symbol of the earth, its weight and power. Whomever it fails to subdue cannot be a mortal.”
I took advantage of the situation and said, “To return to my request, it was a friendly request and certainly not a demand. I likewise try to avoid quarrels and because of it hope that this matter may be resolved through mutual understanding. But I am also ready to make demands. Then I, in turn, will be compelled to resort to strength.”
Again his voice became shrill. “Even if you are not mortal your request is unprecedented. How do you know
