Hecuba had been warned by a prophetic dream, and lamented her daughter's fate and her own.Ulysses approached her, and asked her to give up Polyxena.The old mother tore her hair, dug her nails into her cheeks, and kissed the hands of the cruel chieftain, who, with unpitying calmness, seemed to say--"Be wise, Hecuba, and yield to necessity.There are amongst us many old mothers who weep for their children, now sleeping under the pines of Ida."And Hecuba, formerly queen of the most flourishing city in Asia, and now a slave, bowed her unhappy head in the dust.
Then the curtain in front of one of the tents was raised, and the virgin Polyxena appeared.A tremor passed through all the spectators.
They had recognised Thais.Paphnutius saw again the woman he had come to seek.With her white arm she held above her head the heavy curtain.
Motionless as a splendid statue, she stood, with a look of pride and resignation in her violet eyes, and her resplendent beauty made a shudder of commiseration pass through all who beheld her.
A murmur of applause uprose, and Paphnutius, his soul agitated, and pressing both hands to his heart, sighed--"Why, O my God, hast thou given this power to one of Thy creatures?"Dorion was not so disturbed.He said--
"Certainly the atoms, which have momentarily met together to form this woman, present a combination which is agreeable to the eye.But that is but a freak of nature, and the atoms know not what they do.They will some day separate with the same indifference as they came together.Where are now the atoms which formed Lais or Cleopatra? Imust confess that women are sometimes beautiful.But they are liable to grievous afflictions, and disgusting inconveniences.That is patent to all thinking men, though the vulgar pay no attention to it.And women inspire love, though it is absurd and ridiculous to love them."Such were the thoughts of the philosopher and the ascetic as they gazed on Thais.They neither of them noticed Hecuba, who turned to her daughter, and seemed to say by her gestures--"Try to soften the cruel Ulysses.Employ your tears, your beauty, and your youth."Thais--or rather Polyxena herself--let fall the curtain of the tent.
She made a step forward, and all hearts were conquered.And when, with firm but light steps, she advanced towards Ulysses, her rhythmic movements, which were accompanied by the sound of flutes, created in all present such happy visions, that it seemed as though she were the divine centre of all the harmonies of the world.All eyes were bent on her; the other actors were obscured by her effulgence, and were not noticed.The play continued, however.
The prudent son of Laertes turned away his head, and hid his hand under his mantle, in order to avoid the looks and kisses of the suppliant.The virgin made a sign to him to fear nothing.Her tranquil gaze said--"I follow you, Ulysses, and bow to necessity--because I wish to die.
Daughter of Priam, and sister of Hector, my couch, which was once worthy of Kings, shall never receive a foreign master.Freely do Iquit the light of day."
Hecuba, lying motionless in the dust, suddenly rose and enfolded her daughter in a last despairing embrace.Polyxena gently, but resolutely, removed the old arms which held her.She seemed to say--"Do not expose yourself, mother, to the fury of your master.Do not wait until he drags you ignominiously on the ground in tearing me from your arms.Better, O well-beloved mother, to give me your wrinkled hand, and bend your hollow cheeks to my lips."The face of Thais looked beautiful in its grief.The crowd felt grateful to her for showing them the forms and passions of life endowed with superhuman grace, and Paphnutius pardoned her present splendour on account of her coming humility, and glorified himself in advance for the saint he was about to give to heaven.
The drama neared its end.Hecuba fell as though dead, and Polyxena, led by Ulysses, advanced towards the tomb, which was surrounded by the chief warriors.A dirge was sung as she mounted the funeral pile, on the summit of which the son of Achilles poured out libations from a gold cup to the manes of the hero.When the sacrificing priests stretched out their arms to seize her, she made a sign that she wished to die free and unbound, as befitted the daughter of so many kings.
Then, tearing aside her robe, she bared her bosom to the blow.
Pyrrhus, turning away his head, plunged his sword into her heart, and by a skilful trick, the blood gushed forth over the dazzling white breast of the virgin, who, with head thrown back, and her eyes swimming in the horrors of death, fell with grace and modesty.
Whilst the warriors enshrouded the victim with a veil, and covered her with lilies and anemones, terrified screams and groans rent the air, and Paphnutius, rising from his seat, prophesied in a loud voice.
"Gentiles? vile worshippers of demons! And you Arians more infamous than the idolaters!--learn! That which you have just seen is an image and a symbol.There is a mystic meaning in this fable, and very soon the woman you see there will be offered, a willing and happy sacrifice, to the risen God."But already the crowd was surging in dark waves towards the exits.The Abbot of Antinoe, escaping from the astonished Dorion, gained the door, still prophesying.
An hour later he knocked at the door of the house of Thais.
The actress then lived in the rich Racotis quarter, near the tomb of Alexander, in a house surrounded by shady gardens, in which a brook, bordered with poplars, flowed amidst artificial rocks.An old black slave woman, loaded with rings, opened the door, and asked what he wanted.
"I wish to see Thais," he replied."God is my witness that I came here for no other purpose."As he wore a rich tunic, and spoke in an imperious manner, the slave allowed him to enter.
"You will find Thais," she said, "in the Grotto of Nymphs."
