Lykas saw me come to him clad only in a light scarf, for the days had become overwhelming; he wished to mould my breast which remained uncovered. He took fine clay, kneaded in the fresh, clear water. When he laid it upon my skin I thought I should faint, for the earth was very cold. From my moulded breast, he made a cup, round and umbilicated. He placed it in the sun to dry and tinted it with purple and ochre by pressing flowers all around it. Then we went to the fountain which is consecrated to the nymphs and threw the cup into the current with stalks of gillyflowers. XXXII ROSES IN THE NIGHT When the night mounts into the sky, the world belongs to us and to the gods. We go over the fields to the spring, the dark wood to the glades, wherever our naked feet lead us. The little stars shine enough for such little shadows as we are. Sometimes, beneath the branches, we find sleeping hinds. But more charming than all else, in the night, is a place known only to ourselves which attracts us across the forest: a thicket of mysterious roses. For nothing in the world is so divine as the perfume of roses in the night. How is it that, in the time when I was alone, I never felt their intoxication? XXXIII REMORSE At first I did not reply; shame flushed upon my cheeks, and the beatings of my heart hurt my breasts. Then I resisted, I said: “No. No.” I turned away my head and the kiss did not open my lips, nor love my fast closed knees. Then he begged my forgiveness, he kissed my hair, I felt his burning breath, and he departed.... Now, I am alone. I regard the empty place, the deserted wood, the trampled earth. And I bite my fingers until they bleed and smother my cries in the grass. XXXIV THE INTERRUPTED SLEEP All alone I fell asleep like a partridge in the heather.... The light wind, the murmuring of the waters, the sweetness of the night, all held me there. Imprudently I slept and awakened with a cry, and I struggled, and I wept. But already it was too late. What can the hands of a child do? He would not leave me. Rather, with greater tenderness, he pressed me closer to him, and I saw in all the world neither the earth nor the trees but only the light in his eyes.... To thee, Cypris victorious, I consecrate these offerings still moist with the dew, vestiges of the pains of virginity, witnesses of my sleep and of my resistance. XXXV THE WASH-WOMEN Wash-women, say not that you have seen me! I confide in you; do not repeat it! Between my tunic and my breasts, I bring you something. I am like a little frightened hen.... I know not whether I dare tell you.... My heart beats as though I would die.... It is a veil that I bring you.