The Tour Part 7

"Mother of Eros, hear thy slave!

"Child of the foam, great G.o.ddess of love, Aphrodite, look down from above!

Thou, who dost madden the G.o.ds with desire, Thou, who fulfillest men's hearts with thy fire, All but the heart of my lord that I crave, Hark to thy slave!

"Spill this hot blood that courses in vain for him, Darken these eyes that are heavy with pain for him, Smite the parched lips that he sees but to spurn them, The hands stretched in love ... take them, break them and burn them!

"Then, in the place where lately he strode, Mingle mine ash with the dust of the road; Thus, though I win not a glance from his eye, Thus, though as ever he pa.s.s me by Careless, unseeing, at least my lord's heel Cannot but touch me, at least I shall feel The embrace of his foot; and his sandall'd sole Shall kiss my dust and make me whole.

"Then let the heart that he has press'd, The ashen lips by him caressed Sink low in the lowly dust of the road Lest another tread where late he trod.

"Mother of Eros, hear thy slave!

"Child of the foam, great G.o.ddess of love, Aphrodite, look down from above!

Thou, who dost madden the G.o.ds with desire, Thou, who fulfillest men's hearts with thy fire, All but the heart of my lord that I crave, Hark to thy slave!"

Cora's song rang through the falling night. Her clear voice, tinkling as though with little golden bells, at first soft and hushed, rose throbbing in pa.s.sion and then broke like a crystal ray and melted in mournfulness and plaintive prayer.

The shadows lay heaped under the palm-trees. Outside the doors of their apartments, in the galleries of the diversorium, sat the travelling merchants, squatting or lying on mat or rug, listening. Uncle Catullus lay in a hammock and Thrasyllus sat beside him and looked up at the stars, which were beginning to show like silver daisies in wide, blue meadows.

"You have sung beautifully, Cora," said Uncle Catullus to the slave, who was sitting on the ground with the four-stringed harp before her.

"Thank you, my lord," said the slave.

"Why not call me uncle?" said Catullus, good-naturedly.

"I should not dare," said Cora, smiling.

"Ilia used to call me uncle."

"I am not Ilia, my lord."

Tarrar appeared in the pillared portico.

But his appearance was a surprise. For Tarrar, no longer bandaged, looked like a little savage: he wore his Libyan festive garment; a girdle of feathers hung round his waist; he was crowned with a head-dress of feathers. And he stood grinning.

"Great G.o.ds, Tarrar!" cried Uncle Catullus, with a start. "What have you done to yourself? You look like a little cannibal! You frighten me! What's happening?"

"We are going to Canopus, my lord, to-night!" cried Tarrar, jubilantly. "My Lord Lucius lets you know that we are all going to Canopus this very night! Here is his lords.h.i.+p himself!"

And Tarrar pointed triumphantly to Lucius, who appeared upon the threshold. Cora had risen and now curtseyed low to the ground, with outstretched arms.

Lucius looked like a young Egyptian G.o.d. He wore an Egyptian robe of striped byssus, with a border of hieroglyphics worked in heavy embroidery and precious stones; his legs were encased in hose of gold tissue; about his head was an Egyptian coif, like that of a sphinx, with broad, projecting, striped bands, which fell to his shoulders; he glittered with strange jewels and was wrapped from head to foot in fine gold net like a transparent cloak, like an immaterial shroud. And he approached with a smile, brilliantly, superhumanly beautiful.

"Great sacred G.o.ds! Great sacred G.o.ds!" exclaimed Uncle Catullus.

He rose; Thrasyllus rose too; and the merchants gathered round and, in salaam upon salaam, showed their admiration for the dazzling stranger.

"Lucius, what possesses you? What is happening? Have you turned into Serapis himself?"

"No, uncle," smiled Lucius, "I am merely clad in ceremonial raiment because I want to go to Canopus and dream on the roof of the temple of Serapis. It is the great feast; and Caleb"--he pointed to Caleb stepping forward--"has persuaded me to go this night in state to Canopus. You are coming too, uncle; you also, Thrasyllus; we shall all go, all my freedmen and slaves. Caleb will see about a boat."

A violent and feverish excitement followed. Slaves, male and female, streamed from every side of the diversorium, rejoicing and clasping their hands in amazement.

"When any princely n.o.ble, such as his lords.h.i.+p," Caleb explained, "goes to Canopus, to the feast of Serapis thrice holy, he goes in the greatest state, with all his household to accompany him."

"So I am going too, as I belong to the household?" exclaimed Uncle Catullus. "Only ... am I to rig myself out like that? And where shall I find such a sumptuous raiment?"

"My lord," said Caleb, "you will find everything ready in your chamber. You too, Master Thrasyllus."

Uncle Catullus hurried away, clasping his fat stomach in his two hands. You never knew where you were with that Lucius! For days and days he had been mourning and sobbing and lamenting; he had remained invisible and had eaten nothing ... and there, there he appeared, decked out like a young G.o.d, and wanted to go to Canopus, to dream on the roof of the temple!

"And I had just been reckoning on a quiet evening, because I feel that I've overloaded my stomach!" moaned Uncle Catullus. "Egypt will be the death of me!"

Lights everywhere, links and torches; fever and gaiety everywhere, because one and all were going to Canopus that night. What a surprise! Their lord was no longer sick! It was the great feast! It was the feast of Serapis! The feast of dreams! The water-festival and the boat-festival! It was the summer festival of Canopus!

Vettius and Rufus, the two stewards, gave orders here, there and everywhere. One and all, they said, were to deck themselves in festive garb. Ione, the old female slave, who had charge of the harpists and dancers, was given leave to buy from the merchants whatever she needed, veils and ornaments.

"We are going to Canopus, we are going to Canopus!" cried the women, in joyful chorus. "Quick, Ione, hand me the poppy-rouge! Here, a stick of antimony! I want a blue veil, Ione, and blue lotus-flowers for my hair! Quick, quick, Ione! The master is ready!"

"We are going to Canopus, we are going to Canopus!" Cora cried, joyfully, with the rest. "My lord was like a young G.o.d, he looked like Serapis himself! Ione, I must have a net of gold thread and a dreaming-veil of gold thread and pink water-lilies for my hair! I want a wreath of pink water-lilies!"

Lucius from afar beheld this stir, in the reflection of the lamps and torches in the night. Slaves were running to and fro; litters were prepared. He thought only of Ilia. He wanted to wrap himself in the dreaming-veil and to lie on the temple-roof and dream where Ilia was, where she had been carried ... by the pirates. And he stood like a priest, gazing solemnly before him.

CHAPTER VIII

During those evenings of the summer festival, Alexandria was lighted more brilliantly than Rome itself. The town glittered with hundreds of lights, lamps, lanterns, torches and links; it glittered in its harbours, where the blinding sheaves of light floated from the dome of the light-house; it glittered in its two main streets, which intersected each other; it glittered in the colonnades of the Museum and the Gymnasium, colonnades and stadia themselves restlessly teeming, up to where the mult.i.tude were making merry for the festival.

But above all it glittered over Lake Mareotis and the Canopus Ca.n.a.l. The splendid villas on the lake were bright with many-coloured lanterns and b.a.l.l.s of fire; the temple of Aphrodite, on the eyot, was silhouetted in flaring lines; and over the golden waters of the lake itself the illuminated boats pressed and crowded, filled with song, filled with dance, full of colour, gladness and joy; streamers flapped and rugs trailed over the sides of the boats down to the water.

Through the lighted streets the bearers hurried and thronged with the litters towards Lake Mareotis. They hurried from the diversorium, with the harpists and the dancing-girls and a great procession of slaves in festive raiment. An army of freedmen followed on horses and mules; and the pa.s.sers-by pointed to the imposing procession, evidently the household of a very wealthy Roman who was going to Canopus to dream.

The procession reached a landing-stage on the lake. Here a great barge lay moored, a thalamegus which Caleb had succeeded in hiring at the last moment for a vast sum of money. The thalamegus was painted blue and gilded, with blue-and-gilt oars, which stuck out like so many swan's-legs. Caleb had had her covered with tapestry and adorned with wreaths of flowers and festoons of leaves. The silver statue of Aphrodite stood on the prow, with incense burning before it. The troop of slaves, male and female, and freedmen, with Vettius and Rufus, hastened on board to await the master's coming.

A dense mult.i.tude pressed round to look on greedily. Now a Roman litter approached, recognizable by its square shape; yet another and the master alighted, with the aid of his slaves, male and female. He was accompanied by an old, corpulent kinsman and a grave tutor.

"He's going dreaming! He's going dreaming!" cried the populace. "See, he has his dreaming-veil on! He looks like Serapis himself!"

Beggars crowded round the travellers:

"Divine lord and exalted prince! Image of Horus, the son of Osiris! May Serapis send you good dreams! May Serapis load you with blessings! May he keep bad dreams locked far from you, in the shadowy underworld!"