The memory of Chrysis came to him like a common apparition. He enumerated everything which was at all doubtful in the courtesan’s beauty; her full lips, her dishevelled hair and her careless walk. He had forgotten what her hands were like, but he imagined them to be large in order to add an odious detail to the picture which he was attempting to reject. His state of mind was like that of a man who had been surprised at dawn by his dear mistress in the arms of a common girl, and could offer no explanation to himself as to why he allowed himself the previous evening to be tempted. He could find no excuse for himself nor even a serious reason. Evidently during the day he had suffered from a fit of passing madness, a physical trouble, a malady. He felt himself to be cured but still intoxicated with stupefaction. To complete the recovery of his senses he leant against the temple wall and stood for a long time before the statue. The moonlight continued to shine through the square opening in the roof; Aphrodite shone resplendent; and as the eyes of the statue were in the shadow he tried to catch their expression. He spent the whole night like this. Then daylight came and the statue in turn assumed the living rose colour of the dawn and the golden tint of the sunlight. Demetrios could no longer think. The ivory comb and the silver mirror which he carried within his tunic had disappeared from his memory. He gently abandoned himself to serene contemplation. Outside the confused singing and twittering of the birds sounded in the gardens. The talking and laughing of women’s voices could be heard outside the walls. The life and movement of the morning was spreading over the awakened land. Demetrios was full of pleasant ideas. The sun was high and the shadow from the roof had moved before he heard the confused sound of light footsteps on the outer staircase. No doubt it was the prelude of a sacrifice to the Goddess by a procession of young women, who came to perform their vows or to offer up their prayers before the statue on the first day of the festival of Aphrodite. Demetrios wished to flee. The sacred pedestal opened at the back in a way that only the priests and the sculptor knew. That was the position occupied by the hierophant from which he recited to a young girl with a clear strong voice the miraculous discourse which came from the statue on the third day of the festival. From that place the gardens could be reached. Demetrios entered and stood before a bronze-edged opening which pierced the thick stone. The two golden gates slowly opened. Then the procession entered. CHAPTER V DICE--THE VENUS THROW About the middle of the night Chrysis was awakened by three knocks at the door. She was sleeping with her two friends Rhodis and Myrtocleia, and rising cautiously she went down and half opened the door. A voice came from without. “Who is it, Djala? Who is it?” she asked.