Egypt -- History -- 332-30 B.C. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English
Then she left the supporting pillar, approached the barrier, stopped at
the rope which extended from one short stake to another, and gazed at
the man who was following her outside of the rope.
It was a Greek who stood directly opposite to her. A black beard adorned
his grave, handsome countenance. He, too, had a chlamys, such as she had
formerly seen on another. Only the short sword, which he wore suspended
at his right side in the Hellenic fashion, would not suit that other;
but suddenly a rush of hot blood crimsoned her face. As if to save
herself from falling, she flung out both arms and clutched a stake with
her right and her left hand, thrusting her head and the upper portion of
her body across the rope toward the man whose appearance had created so
wild a tumult in her whole being.
At last she called Hermon’s name in such keen suspense that it fell upon
his ear like a shrill cry.
“Ledscha,” he answered warmly, extending both hands to her in sincere
sympathy; but she did not heed the movement, and her tone of calm
self-satisfaction surprised him as she answered: “So you seek me in
misfortune? Even the blind man knows how to find me here.”
“I would far rather have met you again in the greatest happiness!”
he interrupted gently. “But I am no longer blind. The immortals again
permit me, as in former days, to feast my eyes upon your marvellous
beauty.”
A shrill laugh cut short his words, and the “Not blind!” which fell
again and again from her lips sounded more like laughter than speech.
There are tears of grief and of joy, and the laugh which is an
accompaniment of pleasure is also heard on the narrow boundary between
suffering and despair.
It pierced the artist’s heart more deeply than the most savage outburst
of fury, and when Ledscha gasped: “Not blind! Cured! Rich and possessed
of sight, perfect sight!” he understood her fully for the first time,
and could account for the smile of satisfaction which had just surprised
him on her lips.
He gazed at her, absolutely unable to utter a word; but she went on
speaking, while a low, sinister laugh mingled with her tones: “So this
is avenging justice! It allows us women to be trampled under foot, and
holds its hands in its lap! My vengeance! How I have lauded Nemesis!
How exquisitely my retaliation seemed to have succeeded! And now? It was
mere delusion and deception. He who was blind sees. He who was to perish
in misery is permitted, with a sword at his side, to gloat over our
destruction. Listen, if the good news has not already reached you! I,
too, am condemned to death. But what do I care for myself? Even less
than those to whom we pray and offer sacrifices for the betrayed woman.
Now I am learning to know them! Thus Nemesis thanks me for the lavish
gifts I have bestowed upon her? Just before my end she throws you, the
rewarded traitor, into my way! I must submit to have the hated foe,
whose blinding was the sole pleasure in my ruined life, look me in the
face with insolent joy.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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