They never depilate themselves, so that the triangle of die goddess is marked on their belly as on a temple; but they paint themselves with brushes and perfume themselves deeply. The priestesses of Astarte make love at the setting of the moon; then, in a carpeted hall where burns a tall lamp of gold, they lie down at random. XCVII THE MYSTERIES Within the enclosure thrice mysterious, where the men never enter, we have made a festival for thee, Astarte of the Night, Mother of the World, Fountain of the Life of the Gods! I will reveal something, but not more than is permitted. About a phallos crowned, an hundred women rocked, shrieking. The initiates wore the habits of men, the others the divided tunics. The smoke of perfumes, the fumes of torches, wavered between us like clouds. I wept burning tears. All, at the feet of the Berbeia; we cast ourselves upon our backs. At last when the religious Act was consummated, and when, in the Unique Triangle, had been plunged the crimson phallos, the mystery commenced; but I will tell no more. XCVIII THE EGYPTIAN COURTESANS I have been, with Plango, among the Egyptian courtesans, at the highest part of the old city. They have amphoras of earth, plates of copper and yellow matting where they squat without strain. Their chambers are silent, without angles and without corners, so much their successive couches of blue limestone have blunted the pillars and rounded the base of the walls. They sit immobile, their hands resting upon their knees. When they offer pudding they murmur: “Happiness.” And when one thanks them, they say: “Grace to thee.” They understand Hellene and feign to speak it badly so as to laugh at us in their own tongue; but we, a tooth for a tooth, we speak Lydian and they are suddenly uneasy. XCIX I SING OF MY FLESH AND MY LIFE Surely I will not sing of celebrated past lovers. If they are no more, why speak of them? Am I not like them? Have I not enough to think of in myself? I will forget thee, Pasiphae, although thy passion was extreme. I will not praise thee, Syrinx, nor thee, Byblis, nor thee, by the goddess chosen before all, Helene of the white arms! If someone has suffered, I feel not the pain. If someone has loved, I have loved more. I sing of my flesh and my life, and not of the sterile shadow of buried loves. Rest upon the bed, O my body, according to thy voluptuous mission! Taste thy daily enjoyments and the passions without a tomorrow. Leave not a joy unknown to be regretted upon the day of thy death. C THE PERFUMES I will perfume all my skin in order to attract lovers. Upon my fair legs, in a basin of silver, I will pour the spikenard of Tarsos and the metopion of Egypt.