Читать книгу The Greek Romances of Heliodorus, Longus and Achilles Tatius - Longus - Страница 12

"When the ceremony was over, and the procession had passed by," continued Calasiris——"But," said Cnemon, interrupting him, "the ceremony is not over, Father; you have not made me a spectator of the procession, whereas I am very desirous both of hearing and seeing; you treat me like a guest who, as they say, is come a day after the feast: why should you just open the theatre, only to close it again?"—"I was unwilling," said Calasiris, "to detain you from what you are most desirous to know, by a detail which has little or nothing to do with the principal end of my narration; but since you must be a passing spectator, and by your fondness for shows declare yourself to be an Athenian, I will endeavour briefly to describe the exhibition to you; and I shall do so the more willingly, on account of the consequences which followed it.

"The procession began with an hecatomb of victims, led by some of the inferior ministers of the temple, rough-looking men, in white and girt-up garments. Their right hands and breasts were naked, and they bore a two-edged axe. The oxen were black, with moderately arched and brawny necks—their horns equal, and very little bent; some were gilt, others adorned with flowers—their legs bent inwards[1]—and their deep dewlaps flowing down to their knees—their number, in accordance with the name, exactly a hundred. A variety of other different victims came afterwards, each species separate and in order, attended with pipes and flutes, sending forth a strain prelusive of the sacrifice: these were followed by a troop of fair and long-waisted Thessalian maidens, with dishevelled locks—they were distributed into two companies; the first division bore baskets full of fruits and flowers; the second, vases of conserves and spices, which filled the air with fragrance: they carried these on their heads; thus, their hands being at liberty, they joined them together, so that they could move along and lead the dance. The key-note to the melody was sounded by the next division, who were to sing the whole of the hymn appointed for this festival, which contained the praises of Thetis, of Peleus, and their son, and of Neoptolemus. After this, Ο Cnemon——" "But Cnemon me no Cnemons," said the latter; "why not recite the hymn to me instead of depriving me of so much pleasure? Make me, I beseech you, an auditor at this festival as well as a spectator."—"You shall be so if you desire it," said Calasiris; "the hymn, as nearly as I can recollect, ran as follows:[2]

"'Thetis, the golden-haired, we sing.

She who from Nereus erst did spring,

The Venus of our fatherland.

To Peleus wed, at Jove's command,

Her—of the thunderbolt of war, }

Famed for his beamy spear afar, }

Achilles—Greece the mother saw }

Wedded to whom did Pyrrha bear,

Great Neoptolemus his heir,

Of Grecian land the boast and joy,

The destined scourge of lofty Troy.

Thou who in Delphic land dost rest,

Hero, by thee may we be blest;

Accept our strains, and oh, by thee,

May every ill averted be!

Thetis the golden-haired we sing,

She who from Peleus erst did spring.

"The dance[3] which accompanied this song was so well adapted to it, and the cadence of their steps agreed so exactly with the melody of the strain, that for a while, in spite of the magnificence of the spectacle, the sense of seeing was overpowered and suspended by that of hearing; and all who were present, attracted by the sounds, followed the advancing dancers. At length a band of youths on horseback, with their splendidly dressed commander, opening upon them, afforded a spectacle far preferable to any sounds. Their number was exactly fifty; they divided themselves into five-and-twenty on each side guarding their leader, chief of the sacred embassy, who rode in the midst: their buskins, laced with a purple thong, were tied above their ancles; their white garments, bordered with blue, were fastened by a golden clasp over their breasts. Their horses were Thessalian, and by their spirit gave token of the open plains they came from; they seemed to champ with disdain the foaming bit, yet obeyed the regulating hand of their riders, who appeared to vie with each other in the splendour of their frontlets and other trappings, which glittered with gold and silver. But all these, Cnemon, splendid as they were, were utterly overlooked, and seemed to vanish, like other objects before a flash of lightning, at the appearance of their leader, my dear Theagenes, so gallant a show did he make.[4] He too was on horseback, and in armour, with an ashen spear in his hand; his head was uncovered; he wore a purple robe, on which was worked in gold the story of the Centaurs and the Lapithæ; the clasp of it was of electrum, and represented Pallas with the Gorgon's head on her shield. A light breath of wind added to the grace of his appearance; it played upon his hair, dispersed it on his neck, and divided it from his forehead, throwing back the extremities of his cloak in easy folds on the back and sides of his horse. You would say, too, that the horse himself was conscious both of his own beauty and of the beauty of his rider; so stately did he arch his neck and carry his head, with ears erect and fiery eyes, proudly bearing a master who was proud to be thus borne. He moved along under a loose rein, balancing himself equally on each side, and, touching the ground with the extremity of his hoofs, tempered his pace into almost an insensible motion.

"Every one, astonished at the appearance of this young man, joined in confessing, that beauty and strength were never before so gracefully mingled. The women in the streets, unable to disguise their feelings, flung handfuls of fruit and flowers over him, in token of their admiration and affection: in short, there was but one opinion concerning him—that it was impossible for mortal form to excel that of Theagenes. But now, when

Rosy-finger'd morn appeared,

as Homer says, and the beautiful and accomplished Chariclea proceeded from the temple of Diana, we then perceived that even Theagenes might be outshone; but only so far as female beauty is naturally more engaging and alluring than that of men. She was borne in a chariot drawn by two white oxen—she was dressed in a purple robe embroidered with gold, which flowed down to her feet—she had a girdle round her waist, on which the artist had exerted all his skill: it represented two serpents, whose tails were interlaced behind her shoulders; their necks knotted beneath her bosom; and their heads, disentangled from the knot, hung down on either side as an appendage: so well were they imitated, that you would say they really glided onward. Their aspect was not at all terrible; their eyes swam in a kind of languid lustre, as if being lulled to sleep by the charms of the maiden's breast. They were wrought in darkened gold, tinged with blue, the better to represent, by this mixture of dark and yellow, the roughness and glancing colour of the scales. Such was the maiden's girdle. Her hair was not entirely tied up, nor quite dishevelled, but the greater part of it flowed down her neck, and wantoned on her shoulders—a crown of laurel confined the bright and ruddy locks which adorned her forehead, and prevented the wind from disturbing them too roughly—she bore a gilded bow in her left hand; her quiver hung at her right shoulder—in her other hand she had a lighted torch; yet the lustre of her eyes paled the brightness of the torch."

"Here are, indeed, Theagenes and Chariclea," cried out Cnemon. "Where, where are they?" exclaimed Calasiris; who thought that Cnemon saw them.—"I think I see them now," he replied, "but it is in your lively description."—"I do not know," said Calasiris, "whether you ever saw them such as all Greece and the sun beheld them on that day—so conspicuous, so illustrious; she the object of wish to all the men, and he to all the women; all thought them equal to the immortals in beauty. But the Delphians more admired the youth, and the Thessalians the maid; each most struck with that form which they then saw for the first time. Such is the charm of novelty.

"But, Cnemon! what a sweet expectation did you raise in me when you promised to show me these whom I so fondly loved! and how have you deceived me! You winged me with hope to expect that they would presently be here, and exacted a reward for these good tidings; but, lo! evening and night have overtaken us, and they nowhere appear."—"Raise up your spirits," said Cnemon, "and have a good heart; I assure you they will soon arrive. Perhaps they have met with some impediment by the way, for they intended to arrive much earlier. But I would not shew them to you, if they were here, till you had paid me the whole of my reward; if, therefore, you are in haste to see them, perform your promise, and finish your story."—"It is now," replied Calasiris, "become a little irksome to me, as it will call up disagreeable remembrances; and I thought, besides, that you must by this time be tired with listening to so tedious a tale; but, since you seem a good listener, and fond of hearing stories worth the telling, I will resume my narration where I left it off. But let us first light a torch, and make our libations to the gods who preside over the night;[5] so that, having performed our devotions, we may spend, without interruption, as much as we please of it in such discourses as we like." A maid, at the old man's command, brought in a lighted taper; and he poured out a libation, calling upon all the gods, and particularly upon Mercury; beseeching them to grant him pleasant dreams, and that those whom he most loved might appear to him in his sleep. Calasiris then proceeded in this manner:

"After, Cnemon, that the procession had thrice compassed the sepulchre of Neoptolemus, and that both men and women had raised over it their appropriate shout and cry;[6] on a signal being given, the oxen, the sheep, the goats, were slaughtered at once, as if the sacrifice had been performed by a single hand. Heaps of wood were piled on an immense altar; and the victims being placed thereon, the priest of Apollo was desired to light the pile, and begin the libation.

"'It belongs, indeed, to me,' said Charicles, 'to make the libation; but let the chief of the sacred embassy receive the torch from the hands of Diana's priestess, and light the pile; for such has always been our custom.' Having said this, he performed his part of the ceremony, and Theagenes received the torch from Chariclea. From what now happened, my dear Cnemon, we may infer that there is something divine in the soul, and allied to a superior nature; for their first glance at each other was such, as if each of their souls acknowledged its partner, and hastened to mingle with one which was worthy of it.[7]

"They stood awhile, as if astonished;[8] she slowly offering and he slowly receiving the torch; and fixing their eyes on one another, for some space, they seemed rather to have been formerly acquainted, than to have now met for the first time, and to be returning gradually into each other's memory. Then softly, and almost imperceptibly smiling, which the eyes, rather than the lips, betrayed, they both blushed, as if ashamed of what they had done; and again turned pale, the passion reaching their hearts. In short, a thousand shades of feeling wandered in a few moments over their countenances; their complexion and looks betraying in various ways the movements of their souls.

"These emotions escaped the observation of the crowd, whose attention was engaged on other things. They escaped Charicles too, who was employed in reciting the solemn prayers and invocations, but they did not escape me, for I had particularly observed these young people, from the time that the oracle was given to Theagenes in the temple; I had formed conjectures as to the future from the allusion to their names, though I could not entirely comprehend the latter part of the prediction.

"At length Theagenes slowly and unwillingly turning from the maiden, lighted the pile, and the solemn ceremony ended. The Thessalians betook themselves to an entertainment, and the rest of the people dispersed to their own habitations. Chariclea putting on a white robe, retired with a few of her companions to her apartment, which was within the precincts of the temple; for she did not live with her supposed father, but dwelt apart for the better performance of the temple services.

"Rendered curious by what I had heard and seen, I sought an opportunity of meeting Charicles. As soon as he saw me, he cried out, 'Well, have you seen Chariclea, the light of my eyes, and of Delphi?'—'I have,' I replied, 'but not now for the first time; I have frequently before seen her in the temple, and that not in a cursory manner. I have often sacrificed with her, and conversed with and instructed her, on various subjects, divine and human.'—'But what did you think of her to-day, my good friend? Did she not add some ornament to the procession?'—'Some ornament, do you say? you might as well ask me whether the moon[9] outshines the stars.'—'But some praise the Thracian youth, and give him at least the second place to her.'—'The second, if you will, and the third; but all allow that your daughter was the crown and sun of the ceremonial.' Charicles was delighted with this, and smiling said, 'I am just going to see her.' I, too, was pleased, for my view was to inspire him with content and confidence. 'If you will,' he added, 'we will go together, and see whether she is the worse for the fatigues she has undergone.' I gladly consented, but pretended I went to oblige him; and that I gave up other business of my own.

"When we arrived at her apartment, we found her lying uneasily upon her couch, her eyes melting with languor and passion.[10] Having as usual saluted her father, he asked what was the matter with her? She complained that her head ached; and said that she wished to take a little rest. Charicles, alarmed, went out of the chamber, ordering her maids to keep every thing quiet about her; and, turning to me, 'What languor,' said he, 'my good Calasiris, can this be, which seems to oppress my daughter?'—'Wonder not,' I replied, 'if, in such an assembly of people, some envious[11] eye has looked upon her.' 'And do you, too,' he returned, smiling ironically, 'think, with the vulgar, that there is any thing in fascination?'—'Indeed I do,' said I; 'and thus I account for its effects: this air which surrounds us, which we take in with our breath, receive at our eyes and nostrils, and which penetrates into all our pores, brings with it those qualities with which it is impregnated; and, according to their different natures, we are differently affected. When any one looks at what is excellent, with an envious eye, he fills the surrounding atmosphere with a pernicious quality, and transmits his own envenomed exhalations into whatever is nearest to him. They, as they are thin and subtle, penetrate even into the bones and marrow; and thus envy has become the cause of a disorder to many, which has obtained the name of fascination.

"'Consider besides, O Charicles, how many have been infected with inflammation of the eyes, and with other contagious distempers, without ever touching, either at bed or board, those who laboured under them, but solely by breathing the same air with them.[12] The birth of love affords another proof of what I am explaining, which, by the eyes alone, finds a passage to the soul; and it is not difficult to assign the reason; for as, of all the inlets to our senses, the sight is the most quick and fiery, and most various in its motions; this animated faculty most easily receives the influences which surround it, and attracts to itself the emanations of love.

"'If you wish for an example from natural history, here is one taken out of our sacred books. The bird Charadrius[13] cures those who are afflicted with the jaundice. If it perceives, at a distance, any one coming towards it, who labours under this distemper, it immediately runs away, and shuts its eyes; not out of an envious refusal of its assistance, as some suppose, but because it knows, by instinct, that, on the view of the afflicted person, the disorder will pass from him to itself, and therefore it is solicitous to avoid encountering his eyes. You have heard, perhaps, of the basilisk, which, with its breath and aspect alone, parches up and infects everything around it. Nor is it to be wondered at, if some fascinate those whom they love and wish well to; for they who are naturally envious do not always act as they would wish, but as their nature compels them to do.' Here Charicles, after a pause, said, 'You seem to have given a very reasonable account of this matter; and as you appear to admit that there are various kinds of fascination, I wish hers may be that of love; I should then think that she was restored to health, rather than that she was disordered. You know I have often besought your assistance in this matter. I should rejoice rather than grieve, if this were the affection she labours under, she who has so long set at nought Venus and all her charms. But, I doubt, it is the more common sort of fascination, that of an evil eye, which afflicts her. This your wisdom will certainly enable you to cure, and your friendship to us will incline you to attempt it.' I promised to do all in my power to relieve her, should this be the case; and we were still talking, when a man arrives in haste, and calls out—'One would imagine, my good friends, that you were invited to a fray instead of a feast, you are so tardy in coming up; and yet it is the excellent Theagenes who prepares it for you; and Neoptolemus, the first of heroes, who presides at it. Come away, for shame, and do not make us wait for you until evening. Nobody is absent but yourselves.'

"'This,' whispers Charicles, 'is but a rough inviter;[14] the gifts of Bacchus have not mended his manners. But let us go, lest he come from words to blows.' I smiled at his pleasantry, and said I was ready to attend him. When we entered, Theagenes placed Charicles next to himself; and paid some attention to me, out of respect to him. But why should I fatigue you with a detail of the entertainments; the dancing and singing girls, the youths in armour, who moved in Pyrrhic measures; the variety of dishes with which Theagenes had decked his table, in order to make the feast more jovial? But what follows is necessary for you to hear, and pleasant for me to relate. Our entertainer endeavoured to preserve a cheerful countenance, and forced himself to behave with ease and politeness to his company, but I perceived plainly what he suffered within; his eyes wandered, and he sighed involuntarily. Now he would be melancholy and thoughtful; then on a sudden, recollecting himself, his looks brightened, and he put on a forced cheerfulness. In short, it is not easy to describe the changes he underwent; for the mind of a lover, like that of one overcome with wine, cannot long remain in the same situation, both their souls fluctuating with weak and unsteady passion. For which reason a lover is disposed to drink; and he who has drunk is inclined to love.

"At length, from his yawning, his sighs, and his anxiety, the rest of the company begun to perceive that he was indisposed; so that even Charicles, who had not hitherto observed his uneasiness, whispered me, 'I fancy an envious eye has looked upon him also; he seems to be affected much in the same manner as Chariclea.' 'Indeed, I think so, too,' I replied; 'and it is probable enough, for next after her in the procession, as being most conspicuous, he was most exposed to envy.'

"But now the cups were carried round; and Theagenes, out of complaisance rather than inclination, drank to every body. When it came to me, I said I was obliged to him for the compliment, but must beg to be excused tasting of the cup. He looked displeased and angry, as if he thought himself affronted; when Charicles explained the matter, and told him I was an Egyptian, an inhabitant of Memphis, and a priest of Isis, and consequently abstained from wine and all animal food. Theagenes seemed filled with a sudden pleasure when he heard that I was an Egyptian and a priest; and raising himself up, as if he had suddenly found a treasure, he called for water, and drinking to me, said, 'Ο sage, receive from me this mark of good-will, in the beverage which is most agreeable to you; and let this table[15] conclude a solemn treaty of friendship between us.'—'With all my heart," I replied,' most excellent Theagenes; I have already conceived a friendship for you;' and taking the cup, I drank—and with this the company broke up, and dispersed to their several habitations; Theagenes embracing me at parting with the warmth and affection of an old friend.

"When I retired to my chamber, I could not sleep the first part of the night. My thoughts continually ran upon these young people, and upon the conclusion of the oracle, and I endeavoured to penetrate into its meaning. But, towards the middle of the night, methought I saw Apollo and Diana advancing towards me (if it were indeed only imagination, and not a reality): one led Theagenes, the other Chariclea. They seemed to deliver them into my hands; and the goddess calling me by my name, thus addressed me:

"'It is time for you now to return to your country, for such is the decree of fate. Depart therefore yourself, and take these under your protection; make them the companions of your journey; treat them as your children; and carry them from Egypt, where and howsoever it shall please the gods to ordain.'—Having said this, they disappeared, signifying first that this was a vision, and not a common dream.[16]

"I understood plainly the commands they gave me; except that I doubted what land it was, to which I was at last to conduct these persons."—"If you found this out afterwards, Father," said Cnemon, "you will inform me at a proper season; in the mean time tell me in what manner they signified, as you said, that this was not a common dream, but a real appearance."—"In the same manner, my son, as the wise Homer intimates; though many do not perceive the hidden sense that is contained in these lines:

Ἴνια γὰρ μετόπισθε ποδῶν ἠδέ κνημάων

Ῥεῖ', ἓγνων ἀπιοντός, ἀρίγνωτοί τε θεοί περ.[17] "As they departed, I their legs and feet To glide did see; the gods are known with ease."

"I must confess," said Cnemon, "that I am one of the many, and perhaps you imagined so when you quoted these verses. I have understood the common sense of the words, ever since I first read them, but cannot penetrate any hidden theological meaning that may be couched under them."—Calasiris considering a little, and applying his mind to the explanation of this mystery, replied:

"The gods, O Cnemon, when they appear to, or disappear from us, generally do it under a human shape—seldom under that of any other animal; perhaps, in order that their appearance may have more the semblance of reality. They may not be manifest to the profane, but cannot be concealed from the sage. You may know them by their eyes; they look on you with a fixed gaze, never winking with their eye-lids—still more by their motion,[18] which is a kind of gliding, an aerial impulse, without movement of the feet, cleaving rather than traversing the air: for which reason the images of the Egyptian gods have their feet joined together, and in a manner united. Wherefore Homer, being an Egyptian, and instructed in their sacred doctrines, covertly insinuated this matter in his verses, leaving it to be understood by the intelligent. He mentions Pallas in this manner:

.... δεινὼ δὲ οἱ ὃσσε φάανθεν.

'Fierce glared her eyes.'

and Neptune in the lines quoted before—'ῥεῖν ἔγνων,'—as if gliding in his gait; for so is the verse to be construed—'ῥεῑν απιόντος,' gliding away; not, as some erroneously think, 'ῥεῑ' εγνων,' I easily knew him."

"You have initiated me into this mystery," replied Cnemon; "but how come you to call Homer an Egyptian? It is the first time I ever heard him called so. I will not insist that he is not your countryman; but I should be exceedingly glad to hear your reasons for claiming him as such."—"This is not exactly the time," said Calasiris, "for such a discussion; however, as you desire it, I will shortly mention the grounds upon which I go.

"Different authors have ascribed to Homer different countries—indeed the country of a wise man[19] is in every land; but he was, in fact, an Egyptian, of the city of Thebes, as you may learn from himself. His supposed father was a priest there; his real one, Mercury. For the wife of the priest whose son he was taken to be, while she was celebrating some sacred mysteries, slept in the temple. Mercury enjoyed her company; and impregnated her with Homer; and he bore to his dying day a mark of his spurious origin. From Thebes he wandered into various countries, and particularly into Greece; singing his verses, and obtaining the name he bore. He never told his real one, nor his country, nor family; but those who knew of this mark upon his body, took occasion from it to give him the name of Homer;[20] for, immediately from his birth, a profusion of hair appeared upon both his thighs."

"On what account, my father, did he conceal the place of his birth?"—"Possibly he was unwilling to appear a fugitive; for he was driven out by his father, and not admitted among the sacred youths, on account of the peculiar mark he bore on his body, indicating his spurious origin. Or, perhaps, he had a wise design in keeping the real spot of his nativity a secret, as by so doing he might claim every land he passed through as his fatherland."—"I cannot help," said Cnemon, "being half persuaded of the truth of this account you give of Homer. His poems breathe all the softness and luxuriance of Egypt; and from their excellency, bespeak something of a divine original in their author.

"But after that, by Homer's assistance, you had discovered the true nature of these deities, what happened?"—"Much the same as before: watchings, thoughts, and cares, which night and darkness nourish. I was glad that I had discovered something, which I had in vain attempted to explain before; and rejoiced at the near prospect of my return to my country. But I was grieved to think that Charicles was to be deprived of his daughter. I was in great doubt in what manner the young people were to be taken away together; how to prepare for their flight; how to do it privately, whither to direct it; and whether by land or by sea. In short, I was overwhelmed with a sea of troubles[21] and spent the remainder of the night restless, and without sleep. But the day scarce began to dawn, when I heard a knocking at the gate of my court, and somebody calling my servant.

"The boy asked who it was that knocked, and what he wanted. The person replied, that he was Theagenes the Thessalian.—I was very glad to hear this, and ordered him to be introduced; thinking this an excellent opportunity to lay some foundation for the design I meditated. I supposed that, having discovered at the entertainment that I was an Egyptian, and a priest, he came to ask my advice and assistance in the attachment which now influenced him. He thought, perhaps, as many wrongly do, that the science of the Egyptians was only of one sort. But there is one branch in the hands of the common mass, as I may say, crawling on the ground; busied in the service of idols, and the care of dead bodies; poring over herbs, and murmuring incantations; neither itself aiming, nor leading those who apply to it to aim, at any good end; and most frequently failing in what it professes to effect. Sometimes succeeding in matters of a gloomy and despicable nature; showing imaginary visions as though real; encouraging wickedness; and ministering to lawless pleasures. But the other branch of Egyptian science, my son, is the true wisdom; of which that which I have just mentioned is the base-born offspring. This is that in which our priests and seers are from their youth initiated. This is of a far more excellent nature; looks to heavenly things, and converses with the gods; inquires into the motions of the stars, and gains an insight into futurity; far removed from evil and earthly matters, and turning all its views to what is honourable and beneficial to mankind. It was this which prompted me to retire a while from my country—to avoid, if possible, the ills which it enabled me to foresee, and the discord which was to arise between my children. But these events must be left to the gods, and the fates, who have power either to accomplish or to hinder them; and who, perhaps, ordained my flight, in order that I might meet with Chariclea. I will now proceed with my narration.

"Theagenes entered my apartment; and, after I had received and returned his salute, I placed him near me on the bed, and asked what was the occasion of so early a visit.—He stroked his face, and, after a long pause, said: 'I am in the greatest perplexity, and yet blush to disclose the cause of it:'—and here he stopped. I saw that this was the time for dissimulation, and for pretending to discover what I already knew. Looking therefore archly upon him, I said, 'Though you seem unwilling to speak out, yet nothing escapes my knowledge, with the assistance of the gods.'—With this I raised myself a little, counting over certain numbers upon my fingers, (which in reality meant nothing); shaking my locks, like one moreover under a sudden influence of the divinity, I cried out, 'My son, you are in love.'—He started at this; but, when I added—'and with Chariclea,' he thought I was really divinely inspired; and was ready to fall at my feet, and worship me. When I prevented this, he[22] kissed my head, and gave thanks to the gods that he had really found my knowledge as great as he expected. He besought me to be his preserver; for, unless preserved by my assistance, and that quickly, he was undone, so violent a passion had seized upon him; desire so consumed him—him, who now first knew what it was to love.

"He swore to me, with many protestations, that he never had enjoyed the company of women—that he had always rejected them—and professed himself an enemy to marriage, and a rebel to Venus, until subdued by the charms of Chariclea—that this did not arise from any forced temperance, or natural coldness of constitution; but he had never before seen a woman whom he thought worthy of his love—and having said this, he wept, as if indignant at being subdued by a weak girl. I raised him, comforted, and bade him be of good cheer; for, since he had applied to me, he should find that her coyness would yield to my art. I knew that she was haughty, protesting against love, so as not to bear even the name of Venus or wedlock; but I would leave no stone unturned to serve him. 'Art,' said I, 'can not outdo even nature: only be not cast down, but act as I shall direct you.'

"He promised that he would obey me in every thing; even if I should order him to go through fire and sword. While he was thus eager in protestations, and profuse in his promises of laying at my feet all he was worth, a messenger came from Charicles, saying that his master desired me to come to him—that he was near, in the temple of Apollo, where he was chanting a hymn to appease the deity; having been much disturbed in the night by a dream.

"I arose immediately, and dismissing Theagenes, hastened to the temple; where I found Charicles reclining sorrowfully upon a seat, and sighing deeply. I approached him, and inquired why he was so melancholy and cast down.—'How can I be otherwise,' he replied, 'when I have been terrified by dreams? and hear too, this morning, that my daughter still continues indisposed, and has passed a sleepless night. I am the more concerned at this, not only on her own account, but also because to-morrow is the day appointed for the display of those who[23] run in armour; at which ceremony the priestess of Diana is to preside, and hold up a torch. Either, therefore, the festival will lose much of its accustomed splendour by her absence; or if she comes against her will, she may increase her illness. Wherefore let me now beseech you, by our friendship, and by the god at whose altar we are, to come to her assistance, and think of some remedy. I know you can easily, if you please, cure this fascination, if such it be—the priests of Egypt can do far greater things than these.'

"I confessed that I had been negligent (the better to carry on the deception); and requested a day's time to prepare some medicines, which I thought necessary for her cure. 'Let us now, however,' I continued, 'make her a visit; consider more accurately the nature of her complaint; and, if possible, administer to her some consolation. At the same time, Charicles, I beg you will say a few words to her concerning me; inspire her with regard for my person, and confidence in my skill, that so the cure may proceed the better.' He promised that he would do so; and we went together. But why say much of the situation in which we found the luckless Chariclea? She was entirely prostrated by her passion; the bloom was flown from her cheeks; and tears flowing like water had extinguished the lustre of her eyes. She endeavoured, however to compose herself, when she saw us; and to resume her usual voice and countenance. Charicles embraced, kissed and soothed her. 'My dear daughter,' he cried, 'why will you hide your sufferings from your father? and while you labour under a fascination, you are silent as if you were the injurer, instead of being the injured party: an evil eye has certainly looked upon you. But be of good cheer; here is the wise Calasiris, who has promised to attempt your cure; and he, if any one is able, can effect it; for he has been bred up from his youth in the study of things divine, and is himself a priest; and what is more than all, he is my dearest friend. Resign yourself up, therefore, entirely to his management; suffer him to treat you as he pleases, either by incantations or any other method—you have, I know, no aversion to the company and conversation of the wise.'

"Chariclea motioned her consent, as though not displeased at the proposal—and we then took our leave; Charicles putting me in mind of what he had first recommended to my anxious care; beseeching me, if possible, to inspire his daughter with an inclination for love and marriage. I sent him away in good spirits: assuring him that I would shortly bring about what he seemed to have so much at heart."