She slowly rose and presented a bronze mirror which had been hanging at her girdle. “To thee,” she said, “Astarte, Goddess of the Night, who minglest hands and lips and whose symbol is like unto the footprint of the hinds upon the earth of Syria, Chrysis consecrates her mirror. It has seen the eyes and the gleam of love in them, the hair clinging to the temples after the rites of thy ceremonial, O thou warrior with relentless hands thou mingler of bodies and mouths.” The priest placed the mirror at the foot of the statue. Chrysis drew from her golden hair a long comb of red copper, the sacred metal of the Goddess. “To thee,” she said, “Anadyomene, who wast born of the blood-hued dawn and the foaming smile of the sea, to thee, whose nakedness is like the gleam of pearls, who fastenest thy moist hair with ribbons of seaweed, Chrysis dedicates her comb. It has been plunged in her hair disordered by movements in thy name.” She handed the comb to the old man and leant her head to the right to take off her emerald necklace. “To thee,” she said, “O Hetaira, who wipest away the blushes of shamefaced virgins and teaches them the immodest laugh, to thee, for whom we barter our love, Chrysis dedicates her necklace. She received it from a man whose name she does not know and each emerald represents a kiss where thou hast dwelt for a moment.” She bowed herself once again and for a longer space as she placed the necklace in the priest’s hands and took a step as if to depart. But the priest detained her. “What do you ask from the Goddess in return for these precious offerings?” She smiled and shook her head, saying-- “I ask for nothing.” Then she walked along the row of women, took a rose from a basket and raised it to her lips as she went out. One by one all the women followed her and the door closed upon an empty temple. * * * * * Demetrios had remained alone concealed in the bronze pedestal. He had not lost a gesture or a word of the whole of this scene, and when it was ended he remained for a long while without moving, being once again in a state of torment, passion and irresolution. He had believed himself cured of the madness of the previous night and thought that nothing could ever again hurl him into this shadow of the unknown. But he had reckoned without the woman. Women! women! if you desire to be loved, show yourself, return, be ever-present! The emotion he had felt at the entrance of the courtesan was so overwhelming and complete that there could be no thought of opposing it by an effort of the will. Demetrios was bound like a barbarian slave to the conqueror’s chariot. The thought that he had freed himself was a delusion. Without knowing it and quite naturally she had placed her hand upon him.