THAIS. Go away! I wish to be loved with body and soul. All these philosophers are old goats. The lamps died out one by one. The pale rays of dawn, which entered between the openings of the hangings, shone on the livid faces and swollen eyes of the guests. Aristobulus was sleeping soundly by the side of Chereas, and, in his dreams, devoting all his grooms to the ravens. Zenothemis pressed in his arms the yielding Philina; Dorion poured on the naked bosom of Drosea drops of wine, which rolled like rubies on the white breast, which was shaking with laughter, and the philosopher tried to catch these drops with his lips, as they rolled on the slippery flesh. Eucrites rose, and placing his arm on the shoulder of Nicias, led him to the end of the hall. “Friend,” he said, smiling, “if you can still think at all--of what are you thinking?” “I think that the love of women is like a garden of Adonis.” “What do you mean by that?” “Do you not know, Eucrites, that women make little gardens on the terraces, in which they plant boughs in clay pots in honour of the lover of Venus? These boughs flourish a little time, and then fade.” “What does that signify, Nicias? That it is foolish to attach importance to that which fades?” “If beauty is but a shadow, desire is but a lightning flash. What madness it is, then, to desire beauty! Is it not rational, on the contrary, that that which passes should go with that which does not endure, and that the lightning should devour the gliding shadow?” “Nicias, you seem to me like a child playing at knuckle-bones. Take my advice--be free! By liberty only can you become a man.” “How can a man be free, Eucrites, when he has a body?” “You shall see presently, my son. Presently you will say, ‘Eucrites was free.’” The old man spoke, leaning against a porphyry pillar, his face lighted by the first rays of dawn. Hermodorus and Marcus had approached, and stood before him by the side of Nicias; and all four, regardless of the laughter and cries of the drinkers, conversed on things divine. Eucrites expresses himself so wisely and eloquently, that Marcus said-- “You are worthy to know the true God.” Eucrites replied-- “The true God is in the heart of the wise man.” Then they spoke of death. “I wish,” said Eucrites, “that it may find me occupied in correcting my faults, and attentive to all my duties. In the face of death I will raise my pure hands to heaven, and I will say to the gods, ‘Your images, gods, that you have placed in the temple of my soul, I have not profaned; I have hung there my thoughts, as well as garlands, fillets, and wreaths. I have lived according to your providence. I have lived enough.’” Thus speaking, he raised his arms to heaven, and he remained thoughtful a moment. Then he continued, with extreme joy-- “Separate thyself from life, Eucrites, like the ripe olive which falls; returning thanks to the tree which bore thee, and blessing the earth, thy nurse.”