Aphrodite: Book One: Chapter One. Chrysis
LYING upon her bosom, her elbows forward, her feet apart and her cheek resting in her hand, she pierced little symmetrical holes in the pillow of green linen with a long golden pin. Since she had awakened, two hours after mid-day, and quite tired from having slept too much, she had remained alone upon the disordered bed, one side covered by a vast flood of hair. This mass of hair was deep and dazzling, soft as a fur, longer than a wing, supple, numberless, full of life and warmth. It half-covered her back, spread itself under her body and glittered to her very knees in thick and rounded ringlets. The young woman was rolled up in this precious fleece whose golden brown, almost metallic, reflections had caused the women of Alexandria to name her Chrysis. It was not the smooth hair of the Syrians of the court, nor the tinted hair of the Asiatics, nor the brown and black hair of the daughters of Egypt. It was that of an Aryan race, of the Galilæans from beyond the desert. Chrysis. She loved that name. The young men who came to see her called her Chrysé like Aphrodite in the verses which they left, with garlands of roses, at her door in the mornings. She did not believe in Aphrodite but she was pleased that they should Of this Chrysis had never known, the diviner having told her mother how dangerous it is to reveal to people prophecies of which they are the objects. She knew nothing of her future; wherefore she often thought of it. She recalled but little of her childhood and did not like to speak of it. The only very clear sentiment which had remained with her was of the fright and the. vexation which were caused every day by the anxious surveillance of her mother who, the hour being come to go forth upon the road, shut her up in their room for interminable hours. She recalled also the round window through which she saw the waters of the lake, the mist-blue fields, the transparent sky, the light air of the Galilæan country. The house was surrounded by pink flax and tamarisks. Thorny caper bushes raised their green heads Djala was her Hindu slave whose name was Djalantachtchandrapchapala, which means: "Changeful-as-the-image-of-the-moon-upon-the-water." Chrysis was too lazy to say the entire name. The slave entered and stood near the door without quite shutting it. "Djala, who came yesterday?" "Dost thou not know?" "No. I paid no attention to him. I was weary. I was drowsy the whole time, and I remember nothing. Was he pleasing? When did he leave? Early? What was it he brought me? Is it valuable? No—don't tell me. I don't care. What did he say? Has no one come since his departure? Will he return? Give me my bracelets." The slave brought a casket but Chrysis did not even glance at it and, raising her arms as high as she could, "Ah! Djala," she said, "Ah! Djala! . . . I would like to have extraordinary adventures." "Everything is extraordinary," said Djala, "or nothing. The days are like each other." "Not at all. Formerly it was not so. In every country in the world the gods have come down upon earth and have loved mortal women. Ah! in what manner must they be awaited, in what forests must they be sought, they who are a little more than men? What prayers must be said that they come, they who would teach one something or make me forget everything? And if the gods will descend no more, if they are dead or if they are too old, Djala, will I also die without having seen a man who will bring tragic events into my life?" "What bracelet today?" "I will wear them all. But leave me. I need no one." "Thou wilt not go out?" "Yes, I will go out alone—I will dress myself alone. I will not come back. Go!—Go!" She let one foot drop on the rug and stretched herself erect. Djala had gone out softly. She walked very slowly through the room, her hands clasped behind her neck, absorbed in the delight of applying her bare feet. moist with perspiration, to the cool pavement. Then she entered her bath. To regard herself through the water gave her great pleasure. She saw herself like a great shell of pearl open upon a rock. Her skin became harmonious and perfect; the lines of her body lengthened in a blue light; her whole figure was more supple; she recognized her hands no longer. The lightness of her body was such that she raised herself upon two fingers, let herself float for an instant and fall back softly upon the marble amidst a light stirring which lapped under her chin. The water flowed into her ears like a kiss. The hour of the bath was that where Chrysis commenced to adore herself. The loveliness of her body became the object of tender contemplation and admiration. With her hair and her hands she made a thousand charming plays; now and then she laughed softly, like a child. The Malabar woman took a large sponge in her hand and passed it into the soft golden hair of Chrysis, which streamed backward laden with water; she dried it, scattered it, shook it gently, and then, plunging the sponge into a jar of oil, passed it gently over her mistress’s body before rubbing her with a rough cloth, which made the pliant skin glow. Chrysis buried herself shudderingly in the coolness of a marble seat and murmured, "Dress my hair." In the level rays of the evening, the hair, still damp and heavy, shone like a shower luminous in the sun. The slave took it in handfuls and twisted it; she made it turn upon itself like a great serpent of metal which the pins of gold pierced like arrows. She rolled it about with a green band, thrice crossed, in order to enhance the gloss by contrast with the silk. Chrysis held at arm's length her polished copper mirror. Idly she watched the dark hands of the slave move in the heavy hair, round the clusters, gather in the straying locks and sculpture the head-dress like a vase of moulded clay. When this was done Chrysis said in a low voice, "Tint me." A little box of rosewood, brought from the isle of Dioscoris, contained tints of all colors. With a brush of camel's hair the slave took a little black paste which she placed on the long finely curved lashes in order that the eyes should appear more blue. Two decided She sat with arched back in her marble armchair. Her pins were like golden rays behind her face. Her hands, resting upon her breast, spaced between the shoulders the red necklace of her painted nails, and her small white feet were reunited upon the stone. Djala crouched near the wall and recalled love songs of old India: "Chrysis . . ." She sang in monotone: "Chrysis, thy hair is like a bee-swarm, at rest upon a tree. The warm south wind blows through it with the dew of love and the moist perfume of the night flowers." The young girl, with her slower and softer voice, took up the song: "My hair is like an infinite river in the plain where the flaming evening flows away." And they sang, one after the other: "Mine eyes in the shadow of my lashes are like deep lakes under dark branches." "Thy lips are two delicate dowers where the blood of the deer has fallen." "My lips are the burning edges of a wound." "Thy tongue is the bloody dagger which has made the wound of thy mouth." "My tongue is encrusted with precious stones. It is red from mirroring my lips." "Thine arms are rounded like two bars of ivory and thine armpits are two mouths." "My arms reach out like two lily stems whereon my fingers cling like five petals." "Thy limbs are the trunks of two white elephants which carry thy feet like two rosy flowers." "My feet are two water-lily petals upon a pool; my limbs are two swollen water-lily buds." "Thy bosom is a shield of silver." "It is the moon—and the moon's gleam on the water." A deep silence fell. The slave raised her hands and bowed forward. Chrysis went on: "I am a crimson blossom, full of sweet scents and honey. . . . I am like the sea-hydra, soft, living dower of the night. . . . I am a well, in an ever-warm shelter." The prostrate one murmured very low: "Thou art awesome as the face of Medusa."Chapter One
CHRYSIS
