The spot where they found themselves was far distant from the parts where the courtesans generally celebrated the rites of their religious profession. Why they chose other trysting-places in preference to this—the most admirable of all—they could not have told you. The part of the wood where the crowd gathered soon became a notorious central alley, surrounded by a network of bypaths and starry glades. On the outskirts, despite the charm or the beauty of the sites, there reigned eternal solitude where luxuriant vegetation flourished peacefully. Thus strolling, hand in hand, Mikyllos and Melitta reached the limit of the public park, a low hedge of aloes, forming a useless dividing line between the gardens of Aphrodite and those of her High Priest. Encouraged by the hushed solitude of this flowery wilderness, the young couple easily climbed over the irregular wall formed by the quaint twisted plants. The Mediterranean, at their feet, slowly swept the shore, with wavelets like the fringes of a river. The two children waded in breast-high and chased each other, laughing meanwhile, as they tried to effect difficult conjunctions in the water. They soon put an end to these sports, which failed like games insufficiently rehearsed. After that, luminous and dripping wet, wriggling their frog-like legs in the moonlight, they sprang upon the dark edge of the sea. Traces of footprints on the sand urged the boy and girl onwards. They walked, ran, and struggled, pulling each other by the hand; their black, well-defined shadows sketching bold outlines of their two figures. How far were they to go in this wise? They saw no other living things on the immense azure horizon. “Ah! Look!” exclaimed Melitta, all of a sudden. “What’s the matter?” “There’s a woman!” “A courtesan! Oh, the shameless thing! She has fallen asleep in the open.” “No, no!” rejoined Melitta, shaking her head. “I dare not go near her, Mikyllos. She’s no courtesan.” “I should have thought she was. “No, I say, Mikyllos, she’s not one of us. It’s Touni, wife of the High Priest. Look well at her. She is not asleep. Oh, I’m afraid to approach her. Her eyes are wide open! Let us go away! I’m afraid—oh, so afraid!” Mikyllos made three steps forward on tip-toe. “You’re right, Melitta. She is not sleeping, poor woman! She is dead.” “Dead?” “There is a pin in her heart.” He stretched out his hand to draw it from her breast, but Melitta was terrified. ill-068 “No, no! Touch her not! She is sacred! Remain by her side, watch over her, protect her. I’ll call for help. I’ll tell the others.” She fled with all the strength of her legs into the deep shadow of the black trees. Alone and trembling, Mikyllos wandered round the corpse of the young woman. He touched the pierced breast with his finger. Then, either scared by death, or more likely fearing to be taken for an accomplice of the murder, he suddenly took to his heels, resolved to apprise no one.