Something about Eve: A comedy of fig-leaves — John Shaqi
Something about Eve: A comedy of fig-leavesCabell, James Branch
Science
Something about Eve: A comedy of fig-leaves
Cabell, James Branch
Fantasy fiction; Historical fiction; Middle Ages -- Fiction
And then also the woman whom the Princess had just saved from drowning
unfastened the small copper bowl and the knife which hung by copper
chains about her waist. The Princess took these, she approached the
wailing child, she stooped, and the crying ceased. The Princess returned
to the strange woman, calling out, “Hrang, hrang!” To the gray lips of
this woman Evasherah applied the blood which was now in the copper bowl,
and the remainder of the child’s blood she sprinkled over the woman’s
unveiled breasts and between the woman’s legs, which were held wide
apart for this fecundation.
“Hail, Mother!” said Evasherah. “All hail, O red and wrinkled Mother of
Every Princess! Hail, patient and insatiable Havvah! A salutation to
thee! Spheng, spheng! a salutation to thee, and all delight to thee for
a thousand years of thy Wednesdays! Drink deep, beloved and wise Mother,
for an oblation of blood which has been rendered pure by holy texts is
more sweet than ambrosia.”
At first the elder lady had seemed peculiarly red and inflamed and
hideous among her tousled tresses. Now she was placated, she panted, and
her eyes rolled languorously. She began, with aggrieved reproach, “But,
O my dearie! you have relapsed into a masculine display of clemency such
as has flung away your allotted chance of redemption.”
“Sorrow and mourning reside in my heart, O my Mother: my limbs are
rendered infirm by remorse. For I had no least notion it was you. I
thought only that some mortal woman was to take over my duties in the
repulsive shape of a crocodile; and I could not bear to hear the small
voice of the little child crying out as the sharp jackal teeth drew
nearer, and to reflect that I was destroying two lives in order to
purchase my freedom from this endless love-making and over-eating.”
“But it was a boy child. Dearie, you are talking as though these sons of
Adam were of real importance. And to hear you, nobody would ever give
you your due credit for having piously ended the ambitions of so many
hundreds of them, since you have protected the entrance to the road of
gods and myths against the impudence of these romantics.”
“Yet, refuge of the uplifted, and asylum of the vigorous, the persons
whose blood has nourished my exile were all young men aflame with impure
intentions. And a child is different. It is not right that the stainless
flesh of a little boy, which is an offering acceptable to all our
exalted race, should be torn by the long teeth of an undomesticated
dog.”
“That is true. That is alike a truthful and a pious reflection. A child
is different from all other afflictions, because a child alone can
always be an endless and a quite new sort of trouble. That nobody knows
better than I who am the Mother of Every Princess, with my daughters
everywhere policing the wild dreams of men so inadequately. Yet a thing
done has an end. And it may be that by and by I can get around your
Father—”
“Whose name be exalted!” remarked Evasherah.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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