One of Cleopatra's Nights (26 page)

"In vain," she exclaimed, letting the damp tissues fall, and dismissing
her attendants—"in vain would I pour over myself all the waters of all
the springs and the rivers; the ocean with all its bitter gulfs could
not purify me. Such a stain may be washed out only with blood. Oh, that
look, that look! It has incrusted itself upon me; it clasps me, covers
me, burns me like the tunic dipped in the blood of Nessus; I feel it
beneath my draperies, like an envenomed tissue which nothing can detach
from my body! Now, indeed, would I vainly pile garments upon garments,
select materials the least transparent, and the thickest of mantles. I
would none the less bear upon my naked flesh this infamous robe woven by
one adulterous and lascivious glance. Vainly, since the hour when I
issued from the chaste womb of my mother, have I been brought up in
private, enveloped like Isis, the Egyptian goddess, with a veil of which
none might have lifted the hem without paying for his audacity with his
life. In vain have I remained guarded from all evil desires, from all
profane imaginings, unknown of men, virgin as the snow on which the
eagle himself could not imprint the seal of his talons, so loftily does
the mountain which it covers lift its head in the pure and icy air. The
depraved caprice of a Lydian Greek has sufficed to make me lose in a
single instant, without any guilt of mine, all the fruit of long years
of precaution and reserve. Innocent and dishonored, hidden from all yet
made public to all ... this is the lot to which Candaules has condemned
me. Who can assure me that, at this very moment, Gyges is not in the act
of discoursing upon my charms with some soldiers at the very threshold
of the palace? Oh shame! Oh infamy! Two men have beheld me naked and yet
at this instant enjoy the sweet light of the sun! In what does Nyssia
now differ from the most shameless hetaira, from the vilest of
courtesans? This body which I have striven to render worthy of being the
habitation of a pure and noble soul, serves for a theme of conversation;
it is talked of like some lascivious idol brought from Sicyon or from
Corinth; it is commended or found fault with. The shoulder is perfect,
the arm is charming, perhaps a little thin—what know I? All the blood
of my heart leaps to my cheeks at such a thought. Oh beauty, fatal gift
of the gods! why am I not the wife of some poor mountain goatherd of
innocent and simple habits? He would not have suborned a goatherd like
himself at the threshold of his cabin to profane his humble happiness!
My lean figure, my unkempt hair, my complexion faded by the burning sun,
would then have saved me from so gross an insult, and my honest
homeliness would not have been compelled to blush. How shall I dare,
after the scene of this night, to pass before those men, proudly erect
under the folds of a tunic which has no longer aught to hide from either
of them. I should drop dead with shame upon the pavement. Candaules,
Candaules, I was at least entitled to more respect from you, and there
was nothing in my conduct which could have provoked such an outrage. Was
I one of those ones whose arms forever cling like ivy to their husbands'
necks, and who seem more like slaves bought with money for a master's
pleasure than free-born women of noble blood? Have I ever after a repast
sung amorous hymns accompanying myself upon the lyre, with wine-moist
lips, naked shoulders, and a wreath of roses about my hair, or given you
cause, by any immodest action, to treat me like a mistress whom one
shows after a banquet to his companions in debauch?"

While Nyssia was thus buried in her grief, great tears overflowed from
her eyes like rain-drops from the azure chalice of a lotus-flower after
some storm, and rolling down her pale cheeks fell upon her fair forlorn
hands, languishingly open, like roses whose leaves are half-shed, for no
order came from the brain to give them activity. The attitude of Niobe,
beholding her fourteenth child succumb beneath the arrows of Apollo and
Diana, was not more sadly despairing, but soon starting from this state
of prostration, she rolled herself upon the floor, rent her garments,
covered her beautiful dishevelled hair with ashes, tore her bosom and
cheeks with her nails amid convulsive sobs, and abandoned herself to all
the excesses of Oriental grief, the more violently that she had been
forced so long to contain her indignation, shame, pangs of wounded
dignity, and all the agony that convulsed her soul, for the pride of her
whole life had been broken, and the idea that she had nothing wherewith
to reproach herself afforded her no consolation. As a poet has said,
only the innocent know remorse. She was repenting of the crime which
another had committed.

Nevertheless she made an effort to recover herself, ordered the baskets
filled with wools of different colors, and the spindles wrapped with
flax to be brought to her, and distributed the work to her women as she
had been accustomed to do; but she thought she noticed that the slaves
looked at her in a very peculiar way, and had ceased to entertain the
same timid respect for her as before. Her voice no longer rang with the
same assurance; there was something humble and furtive in her demeanor;
she felt herself interiorly fallen.

Doubtless her scruples were exaggerated, and her virtue had received no
stain from the folly of Candaules; but ideas imbibed with a mother's
milk obtain irresistible sway, and the modesty of the body is carried by
Oriental nations to an extent almost incomprehensible to Occidental
races. When a man desired to speak to Nyssia in the palace of Megabazus
at Bactria, he was obliged to do so keeping his eyes fixed upon the
ground, and two eunuchs stood beside him, poniard in hand, ready to
plunge their keen blades through his heart should he dare lift his head
to look at the princess, notwithstanding that her face was veiled. You
may readily conceive, therefore, how deadly an injury the action of
Candaules would seem to a woman thus brought up, while any other would
doubtless have considered it only a culpable frivolity. Thus the idea of
vengeance had instantly presented itself to Nyssia, and had given her
sufficient self-control to strangle the cry of her offended modesty ere
it reached her lips, at the moment when, turning her head, she beheld
the burning eyes of Gyges flaming through the darkness. She must have
possessed the courage of the warrior in ambush, who, wounded by a random
dart, utters no syllable of pain through fear of betraying himself
behind his shelter of foliage or river-reeds, and in silence permits his
blood to stripe his flesh with long red lines. Had she not withheld that
first impulse to cry aloud, Candaules, alarmed and forewarned, would
have kept upon his guard, which must have rendered it more difficult, if
not impossible, to carry out her purpose.

Nevertheless, as yet she had conceived no definite plan, but she had
resolved that the insult done to her honor should be fully expiated. At
first she had thought of killing Candaules herself while he slept, with
the sword hung at the bedside. But she recoiled from the thought of
dipping her beautiful hands in blood; she feared lest she might miss her
blow; and, with all her bitter anger, she hesitated at so violent and
unwomanly an act.

Suddenly she appeared to have decided upon some project. She summoned
Statira, one of the waiting women who had come with her from Bactria,
and in whom she placed much confidence, and whispered a few words close
to her ear in a very low voice, although there were no other persons in
the room, as if she feared that even the walls might hear her.

Statira bowed low, and immediately left the apartment.

Like all persons who are actually menaced by some great peril, Candaules
presumed himself perfectly secure. He was certain that Gyges had stolen
away unperceived, and he thought only upon the delight of conversing
with him about the unrivalled attractions of his wife.

So he caused him to be summoned, and conducted him to the Court of the
Heracleidæ.

"Well, Gyges," he said to him with laughing mien, "I did not deceive you
when I assured you that you would not regret having passed a few hours
behind that blessed door. Am I right? Do you know of any living woman
more beautiful than the queen? If you know of any superior to her, tell
me so frankly, and go bear her in my name this string of pearls, the
symbol of power."

"Sire," replied Gyges in a voice trembling with emotion, "no human
creature is worthy to compare with Nyssia. It is not the pearl fillet of
queens which should adorn her brows, but only the starry crown of the
immortals."

"I well knew that your ice must melt at last in the fires of that sun.
Now can you comprehend my passion, my delirium, my mad desires? Is it
not true, Gyges, that the heart of a man is not great enough to contain
such a love? It must overflow and diffuse itself."

A hot blush overspread the cheeks of Gyges, who now but too well
comprehended the admiration of Candaules.

The king noticed it, and said, with a manner half smiling, half serious:

"My poor friend, do not commit the folly of becoming enamoured of
Nyssia; you would lose your pains. It is a statue which I have enabled
you to see, not a woman. I have allowed you to read some stanzas of a
beautiful poem, whereof I alone possess the manuscript, merely for the
purpose of having your opinion; that is all."

"You have no need, sire, to remind me of my nothingness. Sometimes the
humblest slave is visited in his slumbers by some radiant and lovely
vision, with ideal forms, nacreous flesh, ambrosial hair. I—I have
dreamed with open eyes; you are the god who sent me that dream."

"Now," continued the king, "it will scarcely be necessary for me to
enjoin silence upon you. If you do not keep a seal upon your lips you
might learn to your cost that Nyssia is not as good as she is
beautiful."

The king waved his hand in token of fare-well to his confidant, and
retired for the purpose of inspecting an antique bed sculptured by
Ikmalius, a celebrated artisan, which had been offered him for purchase.

Candaules had scarcely disappeared when a woman, wrapped in a long
mantle so as to leave but one of her eyes exposed, after the fashion of
the barbarians, came forth from the shadow of a column behind which she
had kept herself hidden during the conversation of the king and his
favorite, walked straight to Gyges, placed her finger upon his shoulder,
and made a sign to him to follow her.

Statira, followed by Gyges, paused before a little door, of which she
raised the latch by pulling a silver ring attached to a leathern strap,
and commenced to ascend a stairway with rather high steps contrived in
the thickness of the wall. At the head of the stairway was a second
door, which she opened with a key wrought of ivory and brass. As soon as
Gyges entered she disappeared without any further explanation in regard
to what was expected of him.

The curiosity of Gyges was mingled with uneasiness. He could form no
idea as to the significance of this mysterious message. He had a vague
fancy that he could recognize in the silent Iris one of Nyssia's women;
and the way by which she had made him follow low her led to the queen's
apartments. He asked himself in terror whether he had been perceived in
his hiding-place or betrayed by Candaules, for both suppositions seemed
probable.

At the idea that Nyssia knew all, he felt his face bedewed with a sweat
alternately burning and icy. He sought to fly, but the door had been
fastened upon him by Statira, and all escape was cut off; then he
advanced into the chamber, which was shadowed by heavy purple hangings,
and found himself face to face with Nyssia. He thought he beheld a
statue rise before him, such was her pallor. The hues of life had
abandoned her face; a feeble rose tint alone animated her lips; on her
tender temples a few almost imperceptible veins intercrossed their azure
network; tears had swollen her eyelids, and left shining furrows upon
the down of her cheeks; the chrysoprase tints of her eyes had lost their
intensity. She was even more beautiful and touching thus. Sorrow had
given soul to her marmorean beauty.

Her disordered robe, scarcely fastened to her shoulders, left visible
her beautiful bare arms, her throat, and the commencement of her
death-white bosom. Like a warrior vanquished in his first conflict, her
beauty had laid down its arms. Of what use to her would have been the
draperies which conceal form, the tunics with their carefully fastened
folds? Did not Gyges know her? Wherefore defend what has been lost in
advance?

She walked straight to Gyges, and fixing upon him an imperial look,
clear and commanding, said to him, in a quick, abrupt voice:

"Do not lie; seek no vain subterfuges; have at least the dignity and
courage of your crime. I know all; I saw you! Not a word of excuse. I
would not listen to it. Candaules himself concealed you behind the door.
Is it not so the thing happened? And you fancy, doubtless, that it is
all over? Unhappily I am not a Greek woman, pliant to the whims of
artists and voluptuaries. Nyssia will not serve for any one's toy. There
are now two men, one of whom is a man too much upon the earth. He must
disappear from it! Unless he dies, I cannot live. It will be either you
or Candaules. I leave you master of the choice. Kill him, avenge me,
and win by that murder both my hand and the throne of Lydia, or else
shall a prompt death henceforth prevent you from beholding, through a
cowardly complaisance, what you have not the right to look upon. He who
commanded is more culpable than he who has only obeyed; and, moreover,
should you become my husband, no one will have ever seen me without
having the right to do so. But make your decision at once, for two of
those four eyes in which my nudity has reflected itself must before this
very evening be forever extinguished."

This strange alternative, proposed with a terrible coolness, with an
immutable resolution, so utterly surprised Gyges, who was expecting
reproaches, menaces, and a violent scene, that he remained for several
minutes without color and without voice, livid as a shade on the shores
of the black rivers of hell.