moke arose from golden censers.
Flowering plants grew in large onyx vases. And at the far end, in the
purple shadow, gleamed the gold nails on the shell of a huge Indian
tortoise turned upside down, which served as the bed of the actress. It
was here that every day, to the murmur of the water, and amid perfumes
and flowers, Thais reclined softly, and conversed with her friends,
while awaiting the hour of supper, or meditated in solitude on
theatrical art, or on the flight of years.

On the afternoon after the games, Thais was reposing in the Grotto of
Nymphs. She had noticed in her mirror the first signs of the decay of
her beauty, and she was frightened to think that white hair and wrinkles
would at last come. She vainly tried to comfort herself with the
assurance that she could recover her fresh complexion by burning certain
herbs and pronouncing a few magic words. A pitiless voice cried, "You
will grow old Thais; you will grow old." And a cold sweat of terror
bedewed her forehead. Then, on looking at herself again in the mirror
with infinite tenderness, she found that she was still beautiful and
worthy to be loved. She smiled to herself, and murmured, "There is not a
woman in Alexandria who can rival me in suppleness or grace or movement,
or in splendour of arms, and the arms, my mirror, are the real chains of
love!"

While she was thus thinking she saw an unknown man--thin, with burning
eyes and unkempt beard, and clad in a richly embroidered robe--standing
before her. She let fall her mirror, and uttered a cry of fright.

Paphnutius stood motionless, and seeing how beautiful she was, he
murmured this prayer from the bottom of his heart--

"Grant, my God, that the face of this woman may not be a temptation, but
may prove salutary to Thy servant."

Then, forcing himself to speak, he said--

"Thais, I live in a far country, and the fame of thy beauty has led me
to thee. It is said that thou art the most clever of actresses and the
most irresistible of women. That which is related of thy riches and thy
love affairs seems fabulous, and calls to mind the old story of Rhodope,
whose marvellous history is known by heart to all the boatmen on the
Nile. Therefore I was seized with a desire to know thee, and I see that
the truth surpasses the rumour. Thou art a thousand times more clever
and more beautiful than is reported. And now that I see thee, I say
to myself, 'It is impossible to approach her without staggering li