Aphrodite: Book Four: Chapter One. The Dream of Demetrios

NOW, having returned home with the mirror, the comb and the necklace, Demetrios was visited by a dream, during his sleep; and this was the dream:

He is going toward the jetty, among the crowd, through a strange night without a moon, without stars, without clouds, which shines of itself.

Without his knowing why, nor what draws him, he is in haste to arrive, to be there as soon as he can; but he walks with effort and the air opposes an inexplicable resistance to his legs, as deep water might hinder each step.

He trembles, he thinks that he will never arrive, that he will never know toward whom he walks thus, panting and uneasy, through the luminous obscurity.

At times the crowd disappears entirely, whether it be that it really vanishes or that he ceases to feel its presence. Then it elbows him afresh, more importunately, and all go, go, go, with a rapid and sonorous step, forward, quicker than he . . .

Then the human mass closes in; Demetrios pales; a man pushes him with his shoulder; a woman's brooch tears his tunic; a young girl, pressed by the multitude, is so closely crowded against him

The house has but one story. Chrysis halts upon the last step. "There are four rooms," she says. "When thou hast seen them, thou wilt never again come forth. Wilt thou follow me? Darest thou?"

But he would follow her anywhere. She opens the first door and closes it behind him.

The room is narrow and long. It is lighted by a single window which frames the whole sea. To the right and to the left, two little tables bear a dozen rolled volumes.

"Here are the books thou lovest," says Chrysis. "There are no others."

Demetrios opens them: they are the "Œneus" of Chæremon, the "Return" of Alexis, the "Mirror of Lais" of Aristippos, the "Witch," the "Cyclops" and the "Bucolics" of Theocritos, the

The young man reads at random:

He stops, casting at Chrysis a tender, surprised look. "Thou?" he says to her, "thou showest me this?"

"Ah! thou hast not seen all. Follow me. Follow me, quickly!" They open another door.

The second room is square. It is lighted by a single window which frames all nature. In the center, a wooden stand bears a mass of red clay and in the corner, on a curved chair, a young girl rests in silence.

"Here thou wilt model Andromeda, Zagreus, and the Horses of the Sun. As thou wilt create them for thyself alone, thou wilt destroy them before thy death."

"It is the House of Happiness," says Demetrios, under his breath.

And he rests his forehead in his hand.

But Chrysis opens another door.

Demetrios makes no reply. And lee asks himself: "Is this indeed the end? Is this truly the limit of human existence? Have I, then, traversed the three other rooms but to stop in this one? And could I, could I leave it if I sleep within it a whole night in the attitude which is the outstretched posture of the tomb?"

But Chrysis speaks . . .

"Well-Beloved, thou hast commanded me, I have come. Look at me well . . ."

She raises her arms together, rests her hands upon her hair and, elbows advanced, smiles. "Well-Beloved, I am thine . . . Oh, not so soon. I promised thee to sing. I will sing first."