She was delighted, as if she was hearing these words for the first time. She gazed at him with clear, sweet eyes, inflaming his passion, and in an almost plaintive voice he said, “It is as though a red hot — whip — were scourging my heart.” He moved his face closer to hers and whispered, “Rhadopis, I want to be immersed in your breath.”
She moved her face closer to his, lowering her eyelids, and he leaned forward until his nose touched hers. His fingertips caressed her long lashes and he stared enraptured into her dark eyes as the world receded, and stunned by love's power, a magic stupor engulfed him, until at length he became aware of her deep sighs. He sat upright and whispered into her ear, saying, “Rhadopis, sometimes I see my destiny; I fear that madness will be my watchword from this hour on.”
Breathless, she rested her head in her palm, her heart thumping in her breast. They sat together an hour in silence, each happy with their own musings, while in reality, though they knew it not, each communed with their newfound soul mate. Then all of a sudden Rhadopis stood up and said, “Come, follow me, my lord, take a look at my palace.”
It was a happy invitation, but it reminded him of matters he had almost forgotten, and he found himself obliged to apologize. What harm would it do to postpone the encounter awhile? The palace and its contents were his property.
“Not tonight, Rhadopis,” he said regretfully.
“Why not, my lord?” she asked disappointedly.
“There are people who have been waiting for me for hours in the palace.”
“Which people, my lord?”
The king laughed and said disdainfully, “I should have been meeting the prime minister now. Truly, Rhadopis, since the incident of the falcon I have been prey to hard work. I had harbored every intention of visiting your palace but found no opportunity. When I realized that this evening was about to go the same way as those that had preceded it, I canceled an important meeting, so that I might see the owner of the golden sandal.”
Rhadopis was astonished. “My lord,” she mumbled. She was impressed by the recklessness that had led him to postpone one of those important meetings in which he presided over the fate of his kingdom so that he could see a woman who had only been in his thoughts for a matter of hours. She thought it a beautiful touch, most endearing and without equal among the deeds of lovers or the poetry of poets.
The king rose to his feet saying, “I am going now, Rhadopis. Alas, the royal palace stifles me. It is a prison enclosed in walls of tradition, but I pass through them like an arrow. Now I shall leave a beloved face to meet a loathsome one. Have you ever seen anything stranger than that? Until tomorrow, Rhadopis, my darling. Indeed, until forever.”
Having uttered these words he departed in all his magnificent youthful madness.
Love
She looked back from the door through which he had disappeared and sighed, “He has gone.” But in reality he had not gone. If truly he had gone she would not have been overcome by that strange drowsiness that put her between sleep and wake-fulness, half remembering and half dreaming, while crowded images raced wildly across her imagination.
She was right to be happy, for she had reached the height of glory, ascended to the peak of sublimity, and savored wonders of greatness that no woman on earth had ever dreamed of. Pharaoh in his sacred person had visited her and she had enchanted him with her fragrant breath and he had exclaimed, before her very eyes, that a scourge of flame consumed his young heart. His passion had crowned her queen on the thrones of glory and beauty. Yes, she was right to be happy, though she had known the happiness of glory before. She inclined her head slightly and her eyes fell upon the sandal. Her heart fluttered and she moved her head closer until her lips touched the warrior engraved upon it.
She did not remain alone with her dreams for long, for Shayth came in. “My lady, do you wish to sleep here?” she inquired. Rhadopis did not reply, but picking up the sandal, rose sluggishly to her feet, and drifted slowly back to her bedchamber. Encouraged by her mistress's seeming inebriation, Shayth said sadly, “What a shame, my lady, this beautiful hall that has known such entertainment and pleasure will be empty of revelers and lovers for the first time tonight. It is probably confused like me and asks, ‘Where is the singing, where the dancing, where the love?’ Such is your will, my lady.”
The courtesan paid her no attention as she strode silently and peacefully up the stairs. Shayth had thought that her words would arouse the curiosity of her mistress, and she said excitedly,
“How miserable and upset they — were — when I informed them you would not be coming. They exchanged looks of grief and deep sadness and went away reluctantly, dragging tails of despair behind them.”
Rhadopis did not answer. She entered her beautiful bedchamber, hurried over to the mirror and looked at her reflection, smiling with satisfaction and joy, and said to herself, “If what has happened tonight is a miracle, then this reflection is a miracle too.” She was filled with a happy ecstasy and she turned to Shayth and asked her, “Who do you think that man who came to visit me was?”
“Who was he, my lady? I had not seen him before today. He is a strange young man, but there is no doubt that he is of noble stock, handsome, imposing, and bold; he is headstrong like the wind, and vibrant, his feet tread firmly upon the ground and his voice commands great authority. If it were not for my fear I would say that he is not devoid of some…”
“Of some what?”
“Of some madness.”
“Be careful.”
“My lady. However great his wealth, surely he cannot outweigh all the lovers you chased away today.”
“Be careful you do not say something you might regret when regret will serve you not.”
“Do his riches surpass those of Commander Tahu or Governor Ani?” asked Shayth in astonishment.
“He is Pharaoh, you foolish woman,” said Rhadopis proudly.
The woman gazed into her mistress's face, and her lower lip dropped, but she did not say a word.
“He is Pharaoh, Shayth, Pharaoh. Pharaoh himself and no one else. Not a word to anyone, you hear. Go now and leave me. I wish to be alone.”
She closed the door and strolled over to the window which looked out over the garden. Night had fallen and spread its wings over the world. Stars sparkled in the sky above and lanterns hung from the branches of the trees. It was an enchanting night. She tasted its beauty and felt for the first time how good it was to be alone at that time, so much sweeter than meeting with all those lovers. In the silence she listened to her inner thoughts and the — whisperings of her heart. Memories flowed and her mind returned to a time long ago — when frivolity had first stirred in her heart, before she was crowned the queen of men's hearts on the throne of Biga, unconquerable mistress of the male soul. In those days she was a beautiful peasant girl, sprouting between the fresh moist leaves of the countryside like a ripe rose. He was a boatman with a mellow voice and legs bronzed by the sun. She could not remember giving herself to any man at the bidding of her heart save for him, and the riverbank of Biga witnessed a scene the earth had never before been fortunate enough to behold. He invited her on board his ship and she accepted, and the waves carried her from Biga to the far South, and from that day hence, all her ties to the countryside and its people were severed. The boatman disappeared from her life one day. She did not know if he had strayed or ran away or died, and she found herself all alone. But then she was not alone, for she had her beauty, and she was not cast out onto the street. A middle-aged man with a long beard and a soft heart took her in. She led a good life and she was deeply touched by his death. Then her light began to glow and caught men's eyes and they were drawn to her like moths obsessed. They threw their young hearts under her dainty feet and countless riches, and they swore allegiance to her, installing her in the palace at Biga to rule over men's hearts. And lo, she was Rhadopis. Oh, what memories!
How had her heart died after that? Was it sadness that had killed it? Or vanity, or glory? She listened to talk of love with a deaf ear and a closed heart. The most a man so passionately in love with her as Tahu could hope for was that she would offer him her cold body.
She surrendered to her memories for a long time, as if she had summoned them to bind her with the most
