Qualitative Research Design An Interactive Approach 3rd Edition Joseph A. Maxwell
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- 5. Qualitative Research Design An Interactive Approach 3rd Edition Joseph A. Maxwell Digital Instant Download Author(s): Joseph A. Maxwell ISBN(s): 9781412981194, 1412981190 Edition: 3 File Details: PDF, 3.88 MB Year: 2013 Language: english
- 10. APPLIED SOCIAL RESEARCH METHODS SERIES 1. SURVEY RESEARCH METHODS (Fourth Edition) by FLOYD J. FOWLER, Jr. 2. SYNTHESIZING RESEARCH (Third Edition) by HARRIS COOPER 3. METHODS FOR POLICY RESEARCH by ANN MAJCHRZAK 4. SECONDARY RESEARCH (Second Edition) by DAVID W. STEWART and MICHAEL A. KAMINS 5. CASE STUDY RESEARCH (Fourth Edition) by ROBERT K. YIN 6. META-ANALYTIC PROCEDURES FOR SOCIAL RESEARCH (Revised Edition) by ROBERT ROSENTHAL 7. TELEPHONE SURVEY METHODS (Second Edition) by PAUL J. LAVRAKAS 8. DIAGNOSING ORGANIZATIONS (Second Edition) by MICHAEL I. HARRISON 9. GROUP TECHNIQUES FOR IDEA BUILDING (Second Edition) by CARL M. MOORE 10. NEED ANALYSIS by JACK McKILLIP 11. LINKING AUDITING AND META EVALUATION by THOMAS A. SCHWANDT and EDWARD S. HALPERN 12. ETHICS AND VALUES IN APPLIED SOCIAL RESEARCH by ALLAN J. KIMMEL 13. ON TIME AND METHOD by JANICE R. KELLY and JOSEPH E. McGRATH 14. RESEARCH IN HEALTH CARE SETTINGS by KATHLEEN E. GRADY and BARBARA STRUDLER WALLSTON 15. PARTICIPANT OBSERVATION by DANNY L. JORGENSEN 16. INTERPRETIVE INTERACTIONISM (Second Edition) by NORMAN K. DENZIN 17. ETHNOGRAPHY (Third Edition) by DAVID M. FETTERMAN 18. STANDARDIZED SURVEY INTERVIEWING by FLOYD J. FOWLER, Jr., and THOMAS W. MANGIONE 19. PRODUCTIVITY MEASUREMENT by ROBERT O. BRINKERHOFF
- 11. and DENNIS E. DRESSLER 20. FOCUS GROUPS (Second Edition) by DAVID W. STEWART, PREM N. SHAMDASANI, and DENNIS W. ROOK 21. PRACTICAL SAMPLING by GART T. HENRY 22. DECISION RESEARCH by JOHN S. CARROLL and ERIC J. JOHNSON 23. RESEARCH WITH HISPANIC POPULATIONS by GERARDO MARIN and BARBARA VANOSS MARIN 24. INTERNAL EVALUATION by ARNOLD J. LOVE 25. COMPUTER SIMULATION APPLICATIONS by MARCIA LYNN WHICKER and LEE SIGELMAN 26. SCALE DEVELOPMENT (Third Edition) by ROBERT F. DeVELLIS 27. STUDYING FAMILIES by ANNE P. COPELAND and KATHLEEN M. WHITE 28. EVENT HISTORY ANALYSIS by KAZUO YAMAGUCHI 29. RESEARCH IN EDUCATIONAL SETTINGS by GEOFFREY MARUYAMA and STANLEY DENO 30. RESEARCHING PERSONS WITH MENTAL ILLNESS by ROSALIND J. DWORKIN 31. PLANNING ETHICALLY RESPONSIBLE RESEARCH by JOAN E. SIEBER 32. APPLIED RESEARCH DESIGN by TERRY E. HEDRICK, LEONARD BICKMAN, and DEBRA J. ROG 33. DOING URBAN RESEARCH by GREGORY D. ANDRANOVICH and GERRY RIPOSA 34. APPLICATIONS OF CASE STUDY RESEARCH by ROBERT K. YIN 35. INTRODUCTION TO FACET THEORY by SAMUEL SHYE and DOV ELIZUR with MICHAEL HOFFMAN 36. GRAPHING DATA by GARY T. HENRY 37. RESEARCH METHODS IN SPECIAL EDUCATION by DONNA M. MERTENS and JOHN A. McLAUGHLIN 38. IMPROVING SURVEY QUESTIONS by FLOYD J. FOWLER, Jr. 39. DATA COLLECTION AND MANAGEMENT by MAGDA STOUTHAMER-LOEBER and WELMOET BOK VAN KAMMEN 40. MAIL SURVEYS by THOMAS W. MANGIONE 41. QUALITATIVE RESEARCH DESIGN (THIRD EDITION) by JOSEPH A. MAXWELL 42. ANALYZING COSTS, PROCEDURES, PROCESSES, AND OUTCOMES IN HUMAN SERVICES by BRIAN T. YATES 43. DOING LEGAL RESEARCH by ROBERT A. MORRIS, BRUCE D.
- 12. SALES, and DANIEL W. SHUMAN 44. RANDOMIZED EXPERIMENTS FOR PLANNING AND EVALUATION by ROBERT F. BORUCH 45. MEASURING COMMUNITY INDICATORS by PAUL J. GRUENEWALD, ANDREW J. TRENO, GAIL TAFF, and MICHAEL KLITZNER 46. MIXED METHODOLOGY by ABBAS TASHAKKORI and CHARLES TEDDLIE 47. NARRATIVE RESEARCH by AMIA LIEBLICH, RIVKA TUVAL- MASHIACH, and TAMAR ZILBER 48. COMMUNICATING SOCIAL SCIENCE RESEARCH TO POLICY- MAKERS by ROGER VAUGHAN and TERRY F. BUSS 49. PRACTICAL META-ANALYSIS by MARK W. LIPSEY and DAVID B. WILSON 50. CONCEPT MAPPING FOR PLANNING AND EVALUATION by MARY KANE and WILLIAM M. K. TROCHIM 51. CONFIGURATIONAL COMPARATIVE METHODS by BENOÎT RIHOUX and CHARLES C. RAGIN
- 13. Qualitative Research Design An Interactive Approach 3 EDITION Joseph A. Maxwell George Mason University 41 APPLIED SOCIAL RESEARCH METHODS SERIES
- 14. FOR INFORMATION: SAGE Publications, Inc. 2455 Teller road Thousand oaks, California 91320 E-mail: order@sagepub.com SAGE Publications Ltd. 1 oliver’s Yard 55 City road London EC1Y 1SP United Kingdom SAGE Publications India Pvt. Ltd. B 1/I 1 Mohan Cooperative Industrial Area Mathura road, New Delhi 110 044 India SAGE Publications Asia-Pacific Pte. Ltd. 3 Church Street #10-04 Samsung Hub Singapore 049483 Acquisitions Editor: Vicki Knight Associate Editor: Lauren Habib Editorial Assistant: Kalie Koscielak Production Editor: Libby Larson Copy Editor: Codi Bowman Typesetter: C&M Digitals, Ltd. Proofreader: Wendy Jo Dymond Indexer: Molly Hall
- 15. Cover Designer: Candice Harman Marketing Manager: Nicole Elliott Permissions Editor Adele Hutchinson Copyright © 2013 by SAGE Publications, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Maxwell, Joseph Alex, 1941- Qualitative research design : an interactive approach / Joseph A. Maxwell. —3rd ed. p. cm. -- (Applied social research methods ; v. 41) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4129-8119-4 (pbk.) 1. Research--Methodology. I. Title. Q180.55.M4M39 2013 001.4′2—dc23 2012012021 This book is printed on acid-free paper. 12 13 14 15 16 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
- 16. Contents Preface About the Author Chapter 1. A Model for Qualitative Research Design The Organization of This Book The Exercises in This Book Notes Chapter 2. Goals: Why Are You Doing This Study? Personal, Practical, and Intellectual Goals What Goals Can Qualitative Research Help You Achieve? Notes Chapter 3. Conceptual Framework: What Do You Think Is Going On? The Value (and Pitfalls) of Research Paradigms Experiential Knowledge Prior Theory and Research The Uses of Existing Theory Concept Maps Other Uses of Existing Research Pilot and Exploratory Studies Thought Experiments Notes Chapter 4. Research Questions: What Do You Want to Understand? The Functions of Research Questions Research Questions and Other Kinds of Questions Research Hypotheses in Qualitative Designs General Questions and Particular Questions Instrumentalist Questions and Realist Questions Variance Questions and Process Questions Developing Research Questions
- 17. Chapter 5. Methods: What Will You Actually Do? More and Less Structured Approaches Negotiating Research Relationships Site and Participant Selection Decisions About Data Collection The Relationship Between Research Questions and Data Collections Methods Using Multiple Data Collection Methods Decisions About Data Analysis Strategies for Qualitative Data Analysis Computers and Qualitative Data Analysis Linking Methods and Questions Notes Chapter 6. Validity: How Might You Be Wrong? The Concept of Validity Two Specific Validity Threats: Bias and Reactivity Researcher Bias Reactivity Validity Tests: A Checklist Generalization in Qualitative Research Notes Chapter 7. Research Proposals: Presenting and Justifying a Qualitative Study The Purpose of a Proposal The Proposal as an Argument The Relationship Between Your Research Design and Your Proposal Argument A Model for Proposal Structure Notes Appendix A: A Proposal for a Study of Medical School Teaching Appendix B: A Proposal for a Study of Online Learning by Teachers References Index
- 18. Preface A major impetus for a new edition of this book was the opportunity to expand it somewhat beyond the page limits of the Applied Social Research Methods Series, for which it was originally written. However, many readers of the previous editions have said that they appreciated the conciseness of the book, so I didn’t want to lose this virtue. Consequently, much of the new material in this edition consists of additional examples of my students’ work, including a second example of a dissertation proposal (Appendix B). Another impetus has been the ongoing development of qualitative research,1 with a flourishing of new approaches, including arts-based approaches, to how it is conducted and presented. I haven’t attempted to deal comprehensively with these, which would have ballooned the book well past what I felt was an appropriate length, as well as taking it beyond an introductory level. If you want to investigate these developments, the SAGE Encyclopedia of Qualitative Research (Given, 2008), the SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research, 4th edition (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011), and the journal Qualitative Inquiry are good places to start. I’ve tried to indicate, in Chapters 1 and 3, how I see my approach to design as compatible with some of these developments, in particular with aspects of postmodernism and with the approach known as bricolage, and I have substantially rewritten and expanded my discussion of research paradigms, in Chapter 2. However, I am also skeptical of some of these developments, particularly those that adopt a radical constructivist and relativist stance that denies the existence of any reality that our research attempts to understand, and that rejects any conception of validity (or related terms) that addresses the relationship between our research conclusions and the phenomena that we study. While I am enough of a postmodernist to believe that every theory and conclusion is our own construction, with no claim to objective or absolute truth, and argue in Chapter 2 that no theory can capture the full complexity of the things we study, I refuse to abandon the goal of gaining a better understanding of the physical, social, and cultural world in which we live, or the possibility of developing credible explanations for these phenomena. This position is grounded in my third impetus for revising this book: my
- 19. increasing awareness of how my perspective on qualitative research has been informed by a philosophical realism about the things we study. I have developed this perspective at length in my book A Realist Approach for Qualitative Research (Maxwell, 2011b), arguing that the critical realist position I have taken is not only compatible with most qualitative researchers’ actual practices, but can be valuable in helping researchers with some difficult theoretical, methodological, and political issues that they face. However, I offer this as a useful perspective among other perspectives, not as the single correct paradigm for qualitative research. As the writing teacher Peter Elbow (1973, 2006) argued, it is important to play both the “believing game” and the “doubting game” with any theory or position you encounter, trying to see both its advantages and its distortions or blind spots. For this reason, I want the present book to be of practical value to students and researchers who hold a variety of positions on these issues. The model of qualitative research design that I develop here is compatible with a range of philosophical perspectives, and I believe it is broadly applicable to most qualitative research. My greater awareness of the implications of a critical realist stance have led me to revise or expand other parts of the book—in particular, the discussion of theory in Chapter 3; developing (and revising) research questions in Chapter 4; research relationships and ethics, developing interview questions, and data analysis in Chapter 5; the concept of validity in Chapter 6; and the appropriate functions and content of a literature review in a research proposal in Chapter 7. I’ve also continued to compulsively tinker with the language of the book, striving to make what I say clearer. I would be grateful for any feedback you can give me on how the book could be made more useful to you. Finally, I realized in revising this work that I had said almost nothing explicitly about how I define qualitative research—what I see as most essential about a qualitative approach. I say more about this in Chapter 2. However, a brief definition would be that qualitative research is research that is intended to help you better understand (1) the meanings and perspectives of the people you study—seeing the world from their point of view, rather than simply from your own; (2) how these perspectives are shaped by, and shape, their physical, social, and cultural contexts; and (3) the specific processes that are involved in maintaining or altering these phenomena and relationships. All three of these aspects of qualitative research, but particularly the last one, contrast with most quantitative approaches to research, which are based on seeing the phenomena studied in terms of variables—properties of things that can vary, and can thus be measured and compared across contexts. (I discuss the difference between variance and process thinking in Chapters 2, 3, and 4.) I see most of the more
- 20. obvious aspects of qualitative research—its inductive, open-ended approach, its reliance on textual or visual rather than numerical data, and its primary goal of particular understanding rather than generalization across persons and settings— as due to these three main features of qualitative inquiry. (For a more detailed discussion of these issues, see Maxwell, 2011b.) I want to acknowledge and thank all of the people who have had an influence on this edition. In particular my students at George Mason University, especially the ones who have contributed their work as examples; the editorial staff at SAGE, who contributed a great deal to the final product, especially my editor, Vicki Knight, and Kalie Koscielak, Codi Bowman, Libby Larson, Nicole Elliot, and Amanda Simpson; and the reviewers of the drafts for this edition, whose feedback helped me to see ways to improve the book that I had overlooked: David Carlone, The University of North Carolina at Greensboro Sharon L. Caudle, Texas A&M University Joseph W. Check, University of Massachusetts, Boston Paula Dawidowicz, Walden University Mary S. Enright, Capella University Deborah Gioia, University of Maryland, Baltimore Gaetane Jean-Marie, University of Oklahoma David M. Kleist, Idaho State University William B. Kline, University of Mississippi Elizabeth Bussman Mahler, EdD, Northeastern University Eliane Rubinstein, Avila University of Arizona Anastasia P. Samaras, George Mason University Ning Jackie Zhang, University of Central Florida Note 1. Some qualitative practitioners prefer the term “inquiry” to “research,” seeing the latter as too closely associated with a quantitative or positivist approach. I agree with their concerns (see Maxwell, 2004a, 2004b), and I understand that some types of qualitative inquiry are more humanistic than scientific, but I prefer to argue for a broader definition of “research” that
- 21. includes a range of qualitative approaches.
- 22. About the Author Joseph A. Maxwell is a Professor in the Graduate School of Education at George Mason University, where he teaches courses on research design and methods and on writing a dissertation proposal. He has published work on qualitative research and evaluation, mixed method research, sociocultural theory, Native American social organization, and medical education. He has also worked extensively in applied settings. He has presented seminars and workshops on teaching qualitative research methods and on using qualitative methods in various applied fields, and has been an invited speaker at conferences and universities in the United States, Puerto Rico, Europe, and China. He has a PhD in anthropology from the University of Chicago. He can be reached at jmaxwell@gmu.edu.
- 23. 1 A Model for Qualitative Research Design In 1625, Gustav II, the king of Sweden, commissioned the construction of four warships to further his imperialistic goals. The most ambitious of these ships, named the Vasa, was one of the largest warships of its time, with 64 cannons arrayed in two gundecks. On August 10, 1628, the Vasa, resplendent in its brightly painted and gilded woodwork, was launched in Stockholm Harbor with cheering crowds and considerable ceremony. The cheering was short-lived, however; caught by a gust of wind while still in the harbor, the ship suddenly heeled over, foundered, and sank. An investigation was immediately ordered, and it became apparent that the ballast compartment had not been made large enough to balance the two gundecks that the king had specified. With only 121 tons of stone ballast, the ship lacked stability. However, if the builders had simply added more ballast, the lower gundeck would have been brought dangerously close to the water; the ship lacked the buoyancy to accommodate that much weight. In more general terms, the design of the Vasa—the ways in which the different components of the ship were planned and constructed in relation to one another—was fatally flawed. The ship was carefully built, meeting all of the existing standards for solid workmanship, but key characteristics of its different parts—in particular, the weight of the gundecks and ballast and the size of the hold—were not compatible, and the interaction of these characteristics caused the ship to capsize. Shipbuilders of that day did not have a general theory of ship design; they worked primarily from traditional models and by trial and error, and had no way to calculate stability. Apparently, the Vasa was originally planned as a smaller ship, and was then scaled up, at the king’s insistence, to add the second gundeck, leaving too little room in the hold (Kvarning, 1993). This story of the Vasa illustrates the general concept of design that I am
- 24. using here: “an underlying scheme that governs functioning, developing, or unfolding” and “the arrangement of elements or details in a product or work of art” (Design, 1984, p. 343). This is the ordinary, everyday meaning of the term, as illustrated by the following quote from a clothing catalog: It starts with design…. We carefully consider every detail, including the cut of the clothing, what style of stitching works best with the fabric, and what kind of closures make the most sense—in short, everything that contributes to your comfort. (L. L. Bean, 1998) A good design, one in which the components work harmoniously together, promotes efficient and successful functioning; a flawed design leads to poor operation or failure. However, most works dealing with research design use a different conception of design: “a plan or protocol for carrying out or accomplishing something (esp. a scientific experiment)” (Design, 1984, p. 343). They present “design” either as a menu of standard types of designs from which you need to choose (typical of experimental research), or as a prescribed series of stages or tasks in planning or conducting a study. Although some versions of the latter view of design are circular and recursive (e.g., Marshall & Rossman, 1999, pp. 26–27), all are essentially linear in the sense of being a one-directional sequence of steps from problem formulation to conclusions or theory, though this sequence may be repeated. Such models usually have a prescribed starting point and goal and a specified order for performing the intermediate tasks. Neither typological nor sequential models of design are a good fit for qualitative research, because they attempt to establish in advance the essential steps or features of the study. (See Maxwell & Loomis, 2002, for a more detailed critique of these approaches.) In qualitative research, any component of the design may need to be reconsidered or modified during the study in response to new developments or to changes in some other component. In this, qualitative research is more like sciences such as paleontology than it is like experimental psychology. The paleontologist Neil Shubin (2008) described his fieldwork as follows: The paradoxical relationship between planning and chance is best described by General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s famous remark about warfare: “In preparing for battle, I have found that planning is essential, but plans are worthless.” This captures field paleontology in a nutshell. We make all kinds of plans to get to promising field sites. Once we’re there, the entire field plan may be thrown out the window. Facts on the
- 25. ground change our best-laid plans. (p. 4) This description also characterizes qualitative research, in which designs are flexible rather than fixed (Robson, 2011), and inductive rather than following a strict sequence or derived from an initial decision. In a qualitative study, “research design should be a reflexive process operating through every stage of a project” (Hammersley & Atkinson, 1995, p. 24). The activities of collecting and analyzing data, developing and modifying theory, elaborating or refocusing the research questions, and identifying and addressing validity threats are usually all going on more or less simultaneously, each influencing all of the others. This process isn’t adequately represented by a choice from a prior menu or by a linear model, even one that allows multiple cycles, because in qualitative research, there isn’t an unvarying order in which the different tasks or components must be arranged, nor a linear relationship among the components of a design. Typological or linear approaches to design provide a model for conducting the research—a prescriptive guide that arranges the tasks involved in planning or conducting a study in what is seen as an optimal order. In contrast, the model in this book is a model of as well as for research. It is intended to help you understand the actual design of your study, as well as to plan this study and carry it out. An essential feature of this model is that it treats research design as a real entity, not simply an abstraction or plan (Maxwell, 2011b). The design of your research, like the design of the Vasa, is real and will have real consequences. Borrowing Kaplan’s (1964, p. 8) distinction between the “logic-in-use” and “reconstructed logic” of research, this model can be used to represent the “design-in-use” of a study, the actual relationships among the components of the research, as well as the intended (or reconstructed) design. As Yin (1994) stated, “Every type of empirical research has an implicit, if not explicit, research design” (p. 19). Because a design always exists, it is important to make it explicit, to get it out in the open where its strengths, limitations, and consequences can be clearly understood. This conception of design as a model of, as well as for, research is exemplified in a classic qualitative study of medical students (Becker, Geer, Hughes, & Strauss, 1961). The authors began their chapter on the design of the study by stating, In one sense, our study had no design. That is, we had no well-worked- out set of hypotheses to be tested, no data-gathering instruments purposely designed to secure information relevant to these hypotheses, no set of analytic procedures specified in advance. Insofar as the term
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- 27. At the end of every year in the presence of all the famous courtesans, a great gathering took place at which there was extraordinary emulation among the women to win the twelve prizes offered, for they consisted of the entry into the Cotytteion, the greatest honour of which they ever dreamed. This last monument was wrapped in such mystery that to-day it is not possible to give a detailed description of it. We only know that it was in the shape of a triangle the base of which was a temple to the Goddess Cotytto, in whose name frightful unheard-of debauchery was committed. The two other sides of the monument consisted of eighteen houses; thirty-six courtesans dwelt there, and were much sought after by wealthy lovers; they were the Baptes of Alexandria. Once every month, on the night of the full moon, they met within the temple maddened by aphrodisiacs. The oldest of the thirty-six had to take a fatal dose of the terrible erotogenous drug. The certainty of her immediate death made her try without fear all the dangerous pleasures from which the living recoil. Her body, which soon became covered with sweat, was the centre and model of the whirling orgie; in the midst of loud wailings, cries, tears and dancing the other naked women embraced her, mingled their hair in her sweat, rubbed themselves upon her burning skin and derived fresh ardour from the interrupted spasm of this furious agony. For three years these women lived in this way, and at the end of thirty-six months such was the intoxication of their end. Other but less venerated sanctuaries had been built by the women in honour of the other names of Aphrodite. There was an altar consecrated to the Ouranian Aphrodite which received the chaste vows of sentimental courtesans; another to Aphrodite Apostrophia, where unfortunate love affairs were forgotten, and there were many others. But these separate altars were only efficacious and effective in the case of trivial desires. They were used day by day, and their favours were trivial ones. The suppliants who had their requests granted placed offerings of flowers on them, while those who were not satisfied spat upon them. They were neither consecrated nor
- 28. maintained by the priests and consequently their profanation was not punishable. The discipline of the Temple was very different. The Temple, the Mighty Temple of the Great Goddess, the most holy place in the whole of Egypt, was a colossal edifice 336 feet in length with golden gates standing at the top of seventeen steps at the end of the gardens. The entrance was not towards the East, but in the direction of Paphos, that is to say the north-west; the rays of the sun never penetrated directly into the Sanctuary. Eighty-six columns supported the architraves, they were all tinted with purple to half their height, and the upper part of each stood out with indescribable whiteness like the bust of a woman from her attire. Within were placed sculptured groups representing many famous scenes, Europa and the Bull, Lêda and the Swan, the Siren and the dying Glaucos, the God Pan and a Hamadryad, and at the end of the frieze the sculptor was depicted modelling the Goddess Aphrodite herself.
- 29. CHAPTER II MYLITTA AND MELITTA “Purify yourself, stranger.” “I shall enter pure,” Demetrios said. With the end of her hair dipped in the holy water the young guardian of the gate moistened first his eyes, then his lips and then his fingers, so that his look, the kiss from his mouth and the caress of his hands were all sanctified. Then he advanced into the wood of Aphrodite. Through the darkening branches he saw the sun set a dark purple which did not dazzle the eyes. It was the evening of the day when his meeting with Chrysis had disturbed his life. That day he had seen a beautiful woman upon the jetty, and addressed himself to her. She had declined his advances though he was Demetrios the famous sculptor, a young, wealthy and handsome man and the accredited lover of Queen Berenice. To obtain her favour Chrysis, the courtesan, had imposed upon him three almost impossible conditions. She required him to present to her the silver mirror of Bacchis the famous courtesan, her friend, the ivory comb worn by Touni the wife of the High Priest, and last of all the necklace of pearls from the neck of the statue of the Goddess Aphrodite within the Holy Temple. The first two of her demands could be carried out possibly even without the shedding of blood, but her third behest would mean the committal of an act of sacrilege punishable by death, before which the boldest would hesitate. The feminine soul is so transparent, that men cannot believe it to be so. Where there is only a straight line they obstinately seek the complexity of an intricate path. This was why the soul of Chrysis, in reality as clear as that of a little child, appeared to Demetrios more mysterious than a problem in metaphysics. When he left her on the jetty, he returned home in a dream unable to reply to the questions which assailed him. What would she do with the three gifts she had ordered him to
- 30. procure her? It was impossible for her to wear or sell a famous stolen mirror, the comb of a woman who had perhaps been murdered in its acquirement, or the necklace of pearls belonging to the Goddess. By retaining possession of them she exposed herself every day to a discovery which would be fatal to her. Then why did she ask for them? Was it to destroy them? He knew that women did not rejoice in secrets and that good luck only pleased them when it was well known to every one. Then, too, by what divination or clairvoyance had she judged him to be capable of accomplishing three such extraordinary deeds? Surely if he had wished, Chrysis might have been carried off, placed in his power and become his mistress, his wife or his slave, as he pleased. He had too the chance of destroying her. Revolutions in the past had accustomed the citizens to deaths by violence, and no one was disturbed by the disappearance of a courtesan. Chrysis must know him, and yet she dared.... The more he thought of her the more her strange commands seemed to please him. How many women were her equal! how many had presented themselves to him in an unfavourable manner! What did she demand? Neither love, gold, nor jewels, but three impossible crimes! She interested him keenly. He had offered her all the treasures of Egypt: he realized now that if she had accepted them she would not have received two obols, and he would have wearied of her even before he had known her. Three crimes, assuredly, were an uncommon salary; but she was worthy to receive it since she was the woman to demand it, and he promised himself to go on with the adventure. To give himself no time to repent of his resolutions that very day he went to the house of Bacchis, found it empty, took the silver mirror and fled into the gardens. Must he at once go to the second victim of Chrysis? Demetrios did not think so. The wife of the High Priest Touni, who possessed the famous ivory comb, was so charming and so weak that he feared to approach her without preliminary precautions. So he turned back and walked along the great Terrace.
- 31. The courtesans were outside their dwellings like a display of flowers. There was no less diversity in their attitudes and costumes than in their ages, types and nationalities. The most beautiful, according to the tradition of Phryne, only leaving the oval of their faces uncovered, were clad from their hair to their heels in great robes of fine wool. Others had adopted the fashion of transparent robes, through which their beauty could be distinguished in a mysterious way, as through limpid water one can see the patches of green weeds at the bottom of the river. Those whose only charm was their youth remained naked to the waist, and displayed the firmness of their breasts. But the older women, knowing how much more quickly a woman’s face grows old than does the skin of the body, sat quite naked, holding their breasts. Demetrios passed very slowly in front of them without allowing himself to admire them. He could never view a woman’s nakedness without intense emotion. He could not realize any feeling of disgust in the presence of the dead, or of insensibility with very young girls. That evening every woman could have charmed him. Provided she kept silence and did not display any more ardour than the minimum demanded by politeness her beauty did not matter. He preferred, also, that she should have a “coarse” body, for the more his thoughts were fixed upon perfect shapes the further away from them did his desire depart. The trouble, which the impression of living beauty gave to him, was of an exclusively cerebral sensuality which reduced to naught other excitation. He recollected with agony that he had remained for an hour like an old man by the side of the most admirable woman he had ever held in his arms. Since that night he had learned to select less pure mistresses. “Friend,” a voice said, “do you not know me?” He turned, shook his head and went on his way, for he never visited the same girl twice. That was the only principle he carried out in his visits to the gardens.
- 32. “Clonarion!” “Gnathene!” “Plango!” “Mnaïs!” “Crobyle!” “Iœsa!” They called out their names as he passed, and some added, as a further inducement, a phrase upon their own ardent nature. Demetrios continued his walk; he was inclined, as his usual custom was, to pick out one of them haphazard, when a little girl dressed in blue spoke to him softly. “Open the door for me,” he said. “I wish to speak to you.” The little girl jumped gaily to her feet and knocked twice with the knocker. An old slave opened the door. “Gorgo,” the girl said, “bring some wine and cakes.” She led the way into her chamber, which was very plain, like that of all very young courtesans. Two large beds, a little tapestry and a few chairs comprised the furniture, but through a large open bay could be seen the gardens, the sea, and the roadstead of Alexandria. Demetrios remained standing looking at the distant city. The sun sinking behind the harbour, that incomparable glory of a coast town, the calm sky, the purple waters, were they not enough to bring silence to any soul bursting with joy or sorrow! What footsteps would they not stay, what pleasure suspend and what voice they not hush? Demetrios watched: a swell of torrent-like flame seemed to leap out from the sun which had half sunk into the sea and to flow straight to the curved edge of the wood of Aphrodite. From one to another of the two horizons the rich purple tone overran the Mediterranean in zones of shades without transition
- 33. from golden red to pale purple. Between the moving splendour and the green mirror of the Mareotis lake the white mass of the city was clothed in reddish violet reflections. The different aspects of its twenty thousand flat houses marvellously speckled it with twenty thousand patches of colour perpetually changing with the decreasing phasis of the rays in the west. Now it was rapid and fiery; then the sun was engulfed with almost startling suddenness and the first approach of the night caused a tremor throughout the earth and a hidden breeze. “Here are figs, sweets, honey and wine. You must eat the figs before it is dark.” The girl came in with a laugh. She made the young man sit down and took up her position upon his knees, refastening, as she did so, a rose in her hair which was in danger of falling out. Demetrios uttered an exclamation of surprise, she looked so young and childish that he felt full of pity for her. “But you are not a woman!” he cried. “I am not a woman! By the two Goddesses what am I then? a Thracian, a porter or an old philosopher?” “How old are you?” “Ten years and a half. Eleven years. You can say eleven. I was born in the gardens. My mother is a Milesian, her name is Pythias, nicknamed the ’Goat.’ Shall I send for her if you think I am too young? She has a soft skin and is very beautiful.” “You have been to the Didascalion?” “I am still there in the sixth class. I shall finish there next year; it will not be any too soon.” “What don’t you like then?”
- 34. “Ah! if you only knew how hard to please the mistresses are. They make you begin the same lesson twenty-five times, and it is all about useless things which the men never desire. Then one tires oneself for nothing, and I do not like that. Come, have a fig; not that one, it is not ripe. I will show you a new way to eat them—look.” “I know it. It takes longer, but it is not a better way. I believe you are a good pupil.” “Oh! what I know I have learned by myself. The mistresses try to make out they are stronger than we are. They are more experienced, but they have not invented anything.” “Have you many lovers?” “They are all too old; it is inevitable. The young are so foolish! They only care for women of forty. I sometimes see one pass as good- looking as Eros, and you ought to see the woman he picks out—a hateful hippopotamus! It makes one turn pale. I hope I shall not live to be the age of those women; I should be ashamed to undress. That is why I am so glad that I am young. But let me kiss you. I like you very much.” Here the conversation took a turn, and Demetrios soon saw that his scruples were unnecessary in the case of such a well-informed young woman. “What is your name?” he asked her presently. “Melitta. Did you not see the name over the door?” “I did not look at it.” “You could see it in the room. It has been written on the walls. I shall soon have to have them repainted.” Demetrios raised his head. The four walls of the room were covered with inscriptions. “Well, that is very curious,” he said. “May I read them?”
- 35. “Yes, if you like. I have no secrets.” He read them. The name of Melitta was there several times, coupled with various men’s names and strange designs. There were tender and comic phrases. Lovers detailed the charms of the little courtesan, or made jokes upon her. All that was not very interesting; but when he was near the end of his reading he gave a start of surprise. “What is this? What is it? Tell me.” “What? Where? What is the matter?” “Here. This name. Who wrote that?” His finger was pointing to the name of Chrysis. “Ah,” she replied, “I wrote that.” “But who is Chrysis?” “She is my great friend.” “I don’t doubt that. That is not what I am asking you. Which Chrysis is it? There are so many.” “Mine is the most beautiful Chrysis of Galilee.” “You know her, then! Tell me about her! Where was her home? Where does she live? Who is her lover? Tell me all about her.” He sat down upon the bed and took the girl upon his knees. “Are you in love with her?” she said. “What does it matter? Tell me what you know about her; I am anxious to hear.” “Oh! I know nothing at all about her—very little indeed. She has been twice to see me, and you can imagine that I did not ask her questions about her relations. I was too pleased to see her to waste time in idle conversation.”
- 36. “What is she like?” “She is like a pretty girl; what do you want me to say? Must I name all the parts of her body and say that they are all beautiful? Ah! she is a real woman.” “You know nothing about her, then?” Demetrios asked. “I know she comes from Galilee; that she is nearly twenty, and lives in the Jews’ quarter, on the east of the city, near the gardens. That is all.” “Can you tell me nothing of her life or tastes?” “The first night she came here she came with her lover. Then she came by herself, and she has promised to come and see me again.” “Do you know any other friend of hers in the gardens?” “Yes; a woman from her country——Chimairis, a poor woman.” “Where does she live? I want to see her.” “She sleeps in the wood. She has done so for a year. She sold her house. But I know where her nest is, and I can take you there if you wish. Put on my sandals for me, please.” Demetrios rapidly fastened the leather thongs of the sandals upon Melitta’s little feet, and they went out together. They walked for some distance. The park was immense. Here and there a girl beneath a tree called out her name as they passed. Melitta knew a few, whom she embraced without stopping. As she passed a worn altar she gathered three large flowers from the grass and placed them on the stone. It was not yet quite dark. The intense light of the summer days has something durable about it which vaguely lingers in the dusk. The sprinkling of small stars, hardly brighter than the sky itself, twinkled
- 37. gently, and the shadows of the branches remained vague and indefinite. “Ah!” said Melitta, “here is mother.” A woman clad in blue-striped muslin was coming slowly towards them. As soon as she saw the child she ran to her, picked her up in her arms, and kissed her fondly on the cheeks. “My little girl! my little love, where are you going?” “I am taking some one to see Chimairis. Are you taking a walk too?” “Corinna has been confined. Have been to her, and I dined at her bedside.” “Is it a boy?” “Twins, my dear; as rosy as wax dolls. You can go and see her to- night; she will show them to you.” “Oh, how nice! Two little courtesans. What are they to be called?” “Pannychis—both of them, because they were born on the eve of the festival of Aphrodite. It is a divine omen. They will be beautiful!” She put down the child, and, turning to Demetrios, said— “What do you think of my daughter? Have I not good cause to be proud of her?” “You can be satisfied with one another,” he calmly replied. “Kiss mother,” Melitta said. He did so, and Pythias kissed him on the mouth as they separated. Demetrios went a little further still beneath the trees, while the courtesan turned her head to watch them. At last they reached the spot they sought, and Melitta said— “Here it is.”
- 38. Chimairis was squatting on her left heel in a little turfy glade between two trees and a bush. She had beneath her a red rag, which was her sole remaining garment in the daytime, and on which she lay when the men passed. Demetrios looked at her with growing interest. She had the feverish look of some thin, dark women whose tawny bodies seem to be consumed by ever-present ardour. Her great lips, her eager gaze, her livid eyes, gave her a double expression—that of covetous sensuality and exhaustion. As Chimairis had sold everything—even her toilet instruments—her hair was in indescribable disorder, while the down upon her body gave her something of the appearance of a shameless and hairy savage. Near her was a great stag, fastened to a tree by a gold chain which had once adorned her mistress’s breast. “Chimairis,” Melitta said, “get up. Some one wants to speak to you.” The Jewess looked, but did not move. Demetrios approached. “Do you know Chrysis?” he asked. “Yes.” “Do you see her often?” “Yes.” “Can you tell me about her?” “No.” “Why not? Can’t you do so?” “No.” Melitta was surprised. “Speak to him,” she said. “Have confidence in him. He loves her and wishes her well.”
- 39. “I can clearly see that he loves her,” Chimairis replied. “If he loves her he wishes her ill. If he loves her I will not speak.” Demetrios trembled with anger, but did not speak. “Give me your hand,” the Jewess said to him. “I will see whether I am mistaken.” She took the young man’s left hand and turned towards the moonlight. Melitta leant over to watch, although she did not know how to read the mysterious lines; but their fatality attracted her. “What do you see?” Demetrios asked. “I see—may I tell you what I see? Shall you be pleased? Will you believe me? First of all I see happiness, but that is in the past. I see love, too, but that is lost in blood.” “Mine?” “The blood of a woman. Then the blood of another woman; and then, a little later, your own.” Demetrios shrugged his shoulders. Melitta uttered a cry. “She is frightened,” Chimairis went on. “But this concerns neither her nor me. Events must come to pass, since we cannot prevent them. From before your birth your destiny was certain. Go away. I shall say no more.” She let his hand drop.
- 40. CHAPTER III IMMORTAL LOVE AND MORTAL DEATH “A woman’s blood. Afterwards the blood of another woman. Afterwards thine; but a little later.” Demetrios repeated these words as he walked and a vague belief in them oppressed him with sadness. He had never believed in oracles drawn from the bodies of victims or from the movements of the planets. Such affinities seemed to him much too problematic. But the complex lines of the hand had of themselves a horoscopic aspect which was entirely individual and which he regarded with uneasiness. Thus the prediction remained in his mind. He, too, gazed at the palm of his left hand where his life was displayed in mysterious and ineffaceable lines. He saw the signs without being able to understand their meaning, and passing his hand across his eyes he changed the subject of his meditation. Chrysis, Chrysis, Chrysis. The name beat in him like a fever. To satisfy her, to conquer her, to enclose her in his arms, to flee away with her to Syria, Greece, Rome or elsewhere, any place, in fact, where he had no mistresses and she no lovers: that was what he had to do and to do at once! Of the three presents she had demanded one was already obtained. Two others remained to be procured, the comb and the necklace. “First the comb,” he thought. He hastened his steps. Every evening after sunset the wife of the High Priest sat with her back to the forest upon a marble seat from which a view of the sea could be obtained, and Demetrios was aware of this, for Touni, like many others, had been enamoured of him, and once she had told him that the day he desired her he could take her.
- 41. Thither he made his way. She was there; but she did not see him approach; she was reclining with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched. She was an Egyptian. Her name was Touni. She wore a thin tunic of bright purple without clasps or girdle, and with no other embroidery than two black stars upon her breasts. The thin stuff reached down to her knees and her little, round feet were shod with shoes of blue leather. Her skin was very swarthy, her lips were very thick, her fragile and supple waist seemed bowed down by the weight of her full breast. She was sleeping with open lips and quietly dreaming. Demetrios took his seat in silence by her side. He gradually drew nearer to her. A young shoulder, smooth and dark and muscular, delicately offered itself to him. Lower down the purple muslin tunic was open at the thigh. Demetrios gently touched her, but she did not awake. Her dream changed but was not dispelled. The eternal sea shimmered beneath a moon which was like a vast cup of blood, but still Touni slept on with bowed head. The purple of the moon upon the horizon reached her from across the sea. Its glorious and fateful light bathed her in a flame which seemed motionless; but slowly the shadow withdrew from the Egyptian woman; one by one her black stars appeared, and at last there suddenly emerged from the shadows the comb, the royal comb desired by Chrysis. Then the sculptor took in his two hands Touni’s sweet face and turned it towards him. She opened her eyes which grew big with surprise. “Demetrios! Demetrios! You!” Her two arms seized hold upon him.
- 42. “Oh!” she murmured in a voice vibrating with happiness, “oh! you have come, you are there. Is it you, Demetrios, who has awakened me with your hands? Is it you, son of my Goddess, O God of my body and life?” Demetrios made a movement as if to draw back, but she at once came suddenly quite close to him. “No,” she said, “what do you fear? I am not a woman to be feared by you, one surrounded by the omnipotence of the High Priest. Forget my name, Demetrios. Women in their lovers’ arms have no name. I am not the woman you believe me to be. I am only a creature who loves you and is filled with desire for you.” Demetrios made her no answer. “Listen once more,” she went on. “I know whom you possess. I do not desire to be your mistress, nor do I aspire to become my Queen’s rival. No, Demetrios, do with me what you will: look upon me as a little slave whom one takes and casts aside in a moment. Take me like one of the lowest of those poor courtesans who wait by the side of the pathway for furtive and abortive love. In fact what am I but one of them? Have the Gods given me anything more than they have bestowed upon the least of all my slaves? You at least have the beauty which comes from the Gods.” Demetrios gazed at her still more gravely. “What do you think, unhappy woman,” he asked, “also comes from the Gods?” “Love.” “Or death.” She got up. “What do you mean? Death.... Yes, death. But that is so far away from me. In sixty years’ time I shall think of it. Why do you speak to
- 43. me of death, Demetrios?” He simply said— “Death to-night.” She burst into a frightened laugh. “This evening ... surely not ... who says so? Why should I die?... answer me, speak, what horrible jest is this?...” “You are condemned.” “By whom?” “By your destiny.” “How do you know that?” “I knew it because I, too, Touni, am involved in your destiny.” “And my destiny wills that I die?” “Your destiny demands that you die by my hand upon this seat.” He seized her by the wrist. “Demetrios,” she sobbed in her fear, “I will not cry out. I will not call for help. Let me speak.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “If death comes to me through you, death will be pleasant. I will accept it, I desire it; but listen to me.” She dragged him into the darkness of the wood, stumbling from stone to stone. “Since you have in your hands,” she continued, “everything we receive from the Gods, the thrill which gives life and that which takes it away, open your two hands upon my eyes, Demetrios ... that
- 44. of love and that of death, and if you do so, I shall die without regret.” He gazed at her without replying, but she thought she could read assent in his face. Transfigured for the second time she lifted up her face with a fresh expression in it, one of new-born desire driving away terror with the strength of desperation. She said no more, but from between her parted lips each breath seemed to be a song of victory. She seized him in her arms crying— “Ah! Kill me ... kill me, Demetrios, why are you waiting!” He rose, gazed once more at Touni as she lifted up her great eyes to him, and taking one of the two gold pins from her hair, he buried it in her left breast.
- 45. CHAPTER IV APHRODITE’S PEARLS Yet this woman would have given him her comb and even her hair for love of him. It was simply a scruple which had prevented him asking her for it: Chrysis had very clearly desired a crime and not the ancient ornament from a young woman’s hair. That was the reason he believed it his duty to take part in the shedding of blood. He might have considered that oaths made to a woman during an access of love can be forgotten afterwards without any great harm being done to the moral worth of the lover who has sworn them, and that, if ever this involuntary forgetfulness were excusable, it was so in the circumstances when the life of another woman, who was quite innocent, was being weighed in the balance. But Demetrios did not stay to reason thus. The adventure he had undertaken seemed to him too curious to be stayed by incidents of violence. So after cutting off Touni’s hair and concealing the ivory comb in his clothing, he without further reflection undertook the third of the tasks ordered by Chrysis: the taking of the necklace of Aphrodite. There was no question of entering the temple by the great door. The twelve hermaphrodites who kept the door would no doubt have allowed Demetrios to enter, in spite of the order which refused admission to the unsanctified in the priest’s absence; but what was the use of thus simply establishing his guilt for the future when there was a secret entry leading to the sanctuary. Demetrios wended his way to a lonely part of the wood where the necropolis of the High Priests of the Goddess was situated. He counted the tombs, opened the door of the seventh, and closed it behind him. With great difficulty, for the stone was heavy, he raised a slab within the tomb which disclosed a marble staircase and descended it step
- 46. by step. He knew that it was possible to take sixty steps in a straight line and then it was necessary to advance by feeling the wall to save falling down the subterranean staircase of the temple. The coolness of this deep passage gradually calmed him. In a few minutes he reached the end of it, ascended steps and opened the door. The night was clear in the open, but black in the holy place. When he had cautiously closed the heavy door, he felt himself to be trembling as if he had been gripped by the coldness of the stones. He dared not lift his eyes. The black silence terrified him; the darkness seemed to him alive with the unknown. He put his hand to his brow like a man who did not desire to awaken lest he might find himself alive. At last he had the courage to look. In a gleam of bright moonlight the Goddess was visible upon a pedestal of red stone loaded with hanging treasures. She was naked and tenderly tinted like a woman; in one hand she held her mirror and with the other she was adorning her beauty with a necklace of seven rows of pearls. A pearl, larger than the rest, long and silvery, gleamed at her breast like a crescent. These were the actual holy pearls. Demetrios was lost in ineffable adoration. He believed in truth that Aphrodite herself was there. He could no longer recognize his own work, so deep was the abyss between that which it used to be and had become. He extended his arms and murmured the mysterious words by which the Goddess is addressed in the Phrygian ceremonies. Supernatural, luminous, immaculate, nude and pure the vision seemed to hover over the stone pedestal softly palpitating. He fixed his eyes upon it, though he feared that the caress of his gaze would make this feeble hallucination vanish in the air. He advanced slowly and touched with his finger the rosy toe as if to assure himself of the
- 47. existence of the statue, and being incapable of stopping, so great was its attraction for him, he mounted and stood by its side, placing his hands upon the white shoulders and looking into the eyes. He trembled, he faltered and began to laugh with joy. His hands wandered over the bare arms, and he clasped the cold hard waist with all his strength. He gazed at himself in the mirror, grasped the necklace of pearls, took it off, made it gleam in the moonlight and then fearfully replaced it. He kissed the hand, the round neck, the undulating throat and the half-open marble mouth. Then he withdrew to the edge of the pedestal and gazed tenderly at the lovely bowed head. The hair of the statue had been arranged in the oriental fashion and lightly veiled the forehead. The half-shut eyes were prolonged in a smile. The lips were separated as if vanquished by a kiss. He silently replaced the seven rows of round pearls upon the glorious breast and descended to gaze upon the idol from a greater distance. Then he seemed to awaken. He remembered his errand which he had up to then failed to accomplish, and realized how monstrous a project it was. He felt his blood burn to the temples. The memory of Chrysis came to him like a common apparition. He enumerated everything which was at all doubtful in the courtesan’s beauty; her full lips, her dishevelled hair and her careless walk. He had forgotten what her hands were like, but he imagined them to be large in order to add an odious detail to the picture which he was attempting to reject. His state of mind was like that of a man who had been surprised at dawn by his dear mistress in the arms of a common girl, and could offer no explanation to himself as to why he allowed himself the previous evening to be tempted. He could find no excuse for himself nor even a serious reason. Evidently during the day he had suffered from a fit of passing madness, a physical
- 48. trouble, a malady. He felt himself to be cured but still intoxicated with stupefaction. To complete the recovery of his senses he leant against the temple wall and stood for a long time before the statue. The moonlight continued to shine through the square opening in the roof; Aphrodite shone resplendent; and as the eyes of the statue were in the shadow he tried to catch their expression. He spent the whole night like this. Then daylight came and the statue in turn assumed the living rose colour of the dawn and the golden tint of the sunlight. Demetrios could no longer think. The ivory comb and the silver mirror which he carried within his tunic had disappeared from his memory. He gently abandoned himself to serene contemplation. Outside the confused singing and twittering of the birds sounded in the gardens. The talking and laughing of women’s voices could be heard outside the walls. The life and movement of the morning was spreading over the awakened land. Demetrios was full of pleasant ideas. The sun was high and the shadow from the roof had moved before he heard the confused sound of light footsteps on the outer staircase. No doubt it was the prelude of a sacrifice to the Goddess by a procession of young women, who came to perform their vows or to offer up their prayers before the statue on the first day of the festival of Aphrodite. Demetrios wished to flee. The sacred pedestal opened at the back in a way that only the priests and the sculptor knew. That was the position occupied by the hierophant from which he recited to a young girl with a clear strong voice the miraculous discourse which came from the statue on the third day of the festival. From that
- 49. place the gardens could be reached. Demetrios entered and stood before a bronze-edged opening which pierced the thick stone. The two golden gates slowly opened. Then the procession entered.
- 50. CHAPTER V DICE—THE VENUS THROW About the middle of the night Chrysis was awakened by three knocks at the door. She was sleeping with her two friends Rhodis and Myrtocleia, and rising cautiously she went down and half opened the door. A voice came from without. “Who is it, Djala? Who is it?” she asked. “Naucrates wishes to speak to you. I told him that you were engaged.” “Oh, how foolish! Most certainly I will see him. I am not engaged. Come in, Naucrates. I am in my chamber.” She went back to bed. Naucrates remained for a moment at the door as if he feared to be indiscreet. The two girls, who were musicians, opened their sleepy eyes but could not rend themselves from their dreams. “Sit down,” said Chrysis. “There need be no false modesty between us two. I know that you have not come to see me. What do you want?” Naucrates was a well-known philosopher who for more than twenty years had been the lover of Bacchis and had not deceived her, though more from indolence than fidelity be it said. His grey hair was cut short, his beard was pointed after the manner of Demosthenes and his moustaches were even with his lips. He wore a great white woollen robe. “I have brought you an invitation,” he said. “Bacchis is giving a dinner to-morrow to be followed by a fête. We shall be seven including yourself. Be sure you come.”
- 51. “A fête? What is the occasion?” “She has given freedom to her most beautiful slave Aphrodisia. There will be dancers and musicians. I think your two friends are engaged to be there, and ought not to be here now. They are at this moment rehearsing at Bacchis’ house.” “Oh! that is right,” Rhodis cried, “we had forgotten it. Arise, Myrto, we are very late.” But Chrysis declared— “No! not yet! It is too bad to take away my friends. If I had suspected I should not have admitted you. Oh! they are dressed already!” “Our dresses are not very elaborate,” the girl answered. “We are not beautiful enough to spend much time over our toilettes.” “Shall I then see you at the temple at some hour to-morrow?” Chrysis asked them. “Yes, to-morrow morning, we shall take doves as our offering. I am taking a drachma from your purse, Chrysis. We shall not otherwise have the money to purchase them. Good-bye till to-morrow.” They ran out. Naucrates gazed for some time at the door which had closed behind them, then he rose, saying— “Can I tell Bacchis that she may reckon upon you?” “I will come,” Chrysis replied. The philosopher bowed to her and slowly departed. As soon as he had gone Chrysis clasped her hands and spoke aloud although she was alone. “Bacchis, Bacchis, he comes from her and does not know. Is the mirror then still in her possession? Demetrios has forgotten me. If he
- 52. has hesitated on the first day, I am lost, he will do nothing. But it is quite possible that he has obtained it. Bacchis has other mirrors which she uses more often. Without a doubt she has not found out yet. Ye Gods! Ye Gods! there is no way of finding out. Ah! Djala! Djala!” The slave entered. “Give me my dice. I wish to throw them,” Chrysis said. She tossed in the air the four dice. “Oh! oh! Djala, look!” The throw had resulted in the dice each presenting a different face. It was thirty-five chances to one against this happening and it was the highest scoring throw of all. Djala coldly observed— “What did you wish?” “Quite true,” Chrysis said in disappointed tones. “I forgot to utter a wish. I thought of something but said nothing. Does not that count just the same?” “I don’t think so; you must start again.” Chrysis made a second throw. This time the result was not decisive, it resulted in both good and bad omens and required another throw to make its meaning clear. The third throw Chrysis made with one of the dice only, and when she saw the result burst into tears. Djala said nothing but was herself uneasy. Chrysis lay upon her bed weeping with her hair in disorder. At last she turned round with an angry movement.
- 53. “Why did you make me begin again? I am sure the first throw counted.” “It would have done if you had expressed a wish, but you did not. You are the only one who knows what your desire was.” “Besides, dice prove nothing. It is a Greek game. I don’t believe in it. I am going to try something else.” She dried her tears and crossed the room. She took from the table a box of white counters, selected twenty-two of them, and then with the point of a pearl hook scratched one after the other the letters of the Hebrew alphabet upon them. “I rely upon this. It never deceives one,” she said. “Raise the front of your robe, that shall be my bag.” She threw the twenty-two counters into the slave’s tunic, repeating in her mind— “Shall I wear Aphrodite’s necklace? Shall I wear Aphrodite’s necklace? Shall I wear Aphrodite’s necklace?” She drew out the tenth arcanum which clearly meant— “Yes.”
- 54. CHAPTER VI THE ROSE OF CHRYSIS THE LOVELY It was a white, blue, yellow, red and green procession. Thirty courtesans advanced carrying baskets of flowers, snow-white doves with red feet, veils of the most fragile azure and valuable ornaments. An old white-bearded priest, enveloped from head to foot in stiff unbleached stuff walked in front of this procession of youth and guided towards the stone altar the line of devout worshippers. They sang, and their song rose and fell like the sound of the sea and the winds. The first two carried harps, which they held in the palm of their left hands and bent forward like sickles of slender wood. One of them advanced and said— “Tryperha, beloved Cypris, offers thee this blue veil which she has spun herself so that thou mayst continue thy goodness to her.” Another said— “Mousairon lays at the feet of the Goddess of the beautiful crown, these garlands and bouquets of flowers. She has worn them at the fête and has invoked thy name in the intoxication of their perfumes. O Conqueror, receive these spoils of love.” Another one said— “As an offering to thee, golden Cytheræ, Timo consecrates this sinuous bracelet. Mayst thou entwine thy vengeance around the throat of the one thou knowest, as this silver serpent entwined itself about these naked arms.” Myrtocleia and Rhodis advanced hand in hand.
- 55. “Here are two doves from Smyrna with wings as white as caresses and feet as red as kisses. O double Goddess of Amathonte, accept them from our joint hands if it is true that the fair Adonis did not satisfy thee and a still more sweet embrace sometimes disturbed thy slumbers.” A very young courtesan followed, saying— “Aphrodite Peribasia receive my virginity with this stained tunic of mine. I am Pannychis of Pharos; since last night I have vowed myself to thy worship.” Another said— “Dorothea begs thee, charitable Epistrophia, to banish from her mind the desire placed there by Eros or at least to inflame for her the eyes of the lover who refuses her. She presents to thee this branch of myrtle because it is the tree thou preferest.” Another said— “Upon thy altar, Paphia, Calliston places sixty drachmas of silver, the balance of a gift she has received from Cleomenes. Give her a still more generous lover, if the offering seems to thee acceptable.” The only one left in front of the idol was a blushing child who had taken the last place. She held in her hand nothing but a tiny garland of flowers, and the priest treated her with contempt because of the smallness of her offering. She said— “I am not rich enough to give thee pieces of gold, great Goddess. Besides, what could I give thee which thou dost not already possess. Here are green and yellow flowers woven as a garland for thy feet.” The procession seemed to be at an end and the other courtesans were about to retrace their steps when a woman was seen standing at the door.
- 56. She had nothing in her hand and seemed to have come to offer her beauty to the Goddess. Her hair was like two waves of gold, two deep billows full of shadow engulfing the ears and twisted in seven turns at the throat. Her nose was fine, with expressive and palpitating nostrils, and beneath it was a full and coral coloured mouth with rounded mobile corners to it. The supple lines of the body undulated at each step she took. Her eyes were wonderful; they were blue but dark and gleaming as well, and changed like moonstones, as she held them half closed beneath her long lashes. The glances of those eyes were like the sirens’ songs. The priest turned towards her and waited for her to speak. She said— “Chrysis offers up her prayer to thee, O Chrysea. Receive the paltry offering she lays at thy feet. Hear and aid, love and solace her who lives according to thy pattern and for the worship of thy name.” She extended her hands golden with rings and bowed her knees before the Goddess. The vague chant recommenced. The sound of the harps ascended towards the statue with the smoke of the incense which the priest was burning in a swinging censor. 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.”
- 57. 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.
- 58. 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. He had seen her approach, for she wore the same yellow robe she had done when he met her on the jetty. She walked with slow and graceful steps with undulating motion of the hips. She had come straight towards him as if she guessed he were concealed behind the stone. From the first he realized that he had again fallen at her feet. When she took from her girdle the mirror of shining bronze, she gazed at herself in it for a time before handing it to the priest, and the splendour of her eyes became dazzling. When to take her copper comb she put her hand to her hair and lifted her bent arm, the beautiful lines of her body were displayed beneath her robe and the sunlight glistened upon the tiny beads of perspiration on her skin. When, last of all, to unfasten and take off her necklace of heavy emeralds she put aside the thick silk which shielded her breast and left but a little space full of shadow with just room for the insertion of a bouquet, Demetrios felt himself seized with frenzy. But then she began to speak and each word of hers was suffering to him. She, a beautiful vase, white as the statue itself and with
- 59. gleaming golden hair, seemed to insist upon pleasure. She told of her deeds in the service of the Goddess. Even the ease with which her favours were obtainable attracted Demetrios to her. How true it is that a woman is not entirely seductive to her lover unless she gives him ground for jealousy! So, after presenting to the Goddess her green necklace in exchange for the one for which she was hoping, when Chrysis returned to the city she took with her a man’s will in her mouth with the little rose the stalk of which she was biting. Demetrios waited till he was alone in the holy place; then he emerged from his retreat. He looked at the statue in anguish expecting a struggle within him. But being incapable of renewing, after so short an interval, such violent emotion, he remained wonderfully calm and without any preliminary remorse. He carelessly ascended to the statue, took off the necklace of real pearls from its bowed neck and concealed it within his raiment.
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