This time, it was Posidippus who approached me timidly.
“While you were in the water,” he told me “I composed a brief epigram. I want to recite it to you, since it belongs to you and befits you. ‘Cytherea, having seen you naked, cried: O Olympians, how is it then that without the semen of Ouranos, the bay of Phalera has caused a new Venus to spring forth from its fecund waves?’”
As he saw that I was smiling with amenity and that I was not nurturing any ill will toward him, he was abruptly emboldened, and, dreading that I might cover myself, he dared to touch me, to wrap his arms around my knees, and even tried to kiss me on the hip. But I thrust him way angrily, for the imprudent fellow was about to imprint his mouth on the exact corner of the flesh where I am most amorous and most sensitive.
“You’re as impetuous as Priapus, young man,” I said to him. “You think that everyone shares your impatience. Give me my tunic and calm down.”
“O Naïs, can you not see that I am burning, and that I have a desire to steal your clothes, as Amour once did to the Graces, in order that I would always see you naked?”
My silence and my insouciant manner augmented his desire. Soon, he knew no restraint. Raising wild hands, he rushed at me passionately and tried to knock me down. I sensed that he was filled and overflowing with sensual ardor, and that subtle fire was altering his blood. Had it not been for the refreshing effect of the sea I would scarcely have had the strength to resist him. Lightened as I was, however, and pacified by the bath, I amused myself by teasing and inflaming him with my disdain. When he finally resigned himself to sitting down in disorder near his fishing-rod and his pitiful nets, I dressed myself diligently and got ready to depart.
“You don’t want to give me at least a hope, cruel Naïs?” he exclaimed.
I drew away without responding.
“You’re implacable. You’re not even saluting me.”
“Your maladroit manners don’t merit any salutation,” I replied, mockingly. “But as you’ve addressed a flattering epigram to me, I’ll teach you in my turn a song from Thessaly that is perfectly adapted to your condition: ‘What a vigorous and well-honed weapon you have taken from your arsenal, O Priapus. Veil yourself, ready for the wedding. Come on! Come on! Calm down, moderate your desires and hide them under the chlamys! In any case, you do not live on a deserted mountain but in the vicinity of Attica and the sacred city of Minerva.’”
He tried to launch himself forward again, but I ran away.
VIII
For three days, I did not see my admirer, the young and impetuous Posidippus. I believed in the possibility of his amorous cure, but I only believed it slightly and weakly. In fact, it was nothing of the sort, for one afternoon, while I was trying indolently to prolong my slumber, the door opened and his mistress Plangon, who lives not far away, came in, her face distraught and her eyes tearful. We scarcely had any relationship. I remember having encountered her at the temple one day when I went there to offer my saffron veil, my girdle and green crowns of ivy after the first night I spend awake in the arms of Mnesicles.
“O Naïs,” Plangon said to me, throwing herself at my knees and advancing her hands in supplication, “forgive me for intruding here without knowing you, but we have never disputed a lover, and whenever I saw you, either at Eleusis or at the festivals of Bacchus, I admitted aloud your beauty and praised your skin, which is white without artifice.”
“I know you too, Plangon, and you please me. But tell me the cause of your disarray and your disturbance.”
“Posidippus, my lover, whom I took when young from the hands of the philosopher Aristaenetus, no longer wants to see me, and weeps in my bed, desiring you.”
“How do you know that?”
“O Naïs, can we be mistaken in these matters when Amour is our guide? For I have loved that child for three years, and I love him with the disinterest of a virgin, forgetful of the calculations so necessary in our profession. I only asked him for money at the commencement of our relationship, and now I believe that I belong to him by right and owe him even the air that I breathe. For his part, he appeared to be attached to me like the lamb to the mother that suckles it. But a month ago, my attention was attracted by the thinning of his body and his decline.
“At first I thought he was ill and later, struck by his coldness, I had recourse to witches, thinking that he could no longer burn flames of Venus. Whereas once we were always coupled in our bed like two turtle-doves, now he spends cold nights beside me. In vain I pressed the quivering weight of my body against him, or, imploring, huddled against his breast. Finally, yesterday, as he remained taciturn and in lamentation, letting a sob escape from time to time, I begged him so insistently to tell me the reason for his desolation that he ended up yielding and confessing to me.
“He loves you, Naïs, he has loved you since he saw you near the Parthenon, on the Acropolis. He sighs after your charms, and your image is planted in his heart, from which it can no longer be removed. While he was telling me his woes, I observed such distress and such a mortal affliction in his features that I understood how powerfully passion had subjugated him. I had neither the strength to complain nor the courage to be irritated. My jealousy gave way to pity. Without thinking any longer of hating you, I thought, on the contrary, of coming here to implore you in favor of Posidippus. I fear that he might attempt to kill himself! As he was once a disciple of Hegesias he might think of quitting this life voluntarily and reposing in the annihilation.”
“And you, Plangon—what would become of you if I granted your prayers?”
“I abandon him to you, provided that he lives and that I no longer see the devouring fire, the scourge of the goddess, laboring and undermining his body. His sleep is agitated. At banquets, crowned with ivy or narcissus, he remains bowed down by dolor, his eyes glittering, his complexion feverish, and his lips contracted.”
“But what if I didn’t consent to welcome him, if I didn’t want to?”
“Oh, you won’t do that, Naïs! In any case, you’d be afraid of offending Amour, who punishes the cruel. Have you forgotten how Meles was precipitated from the citadel because of his insensible heart? It’s said, also, that in Sicily the statue of the Venus of the Baths fell and crushed a courtesan who had led her lover to death by her coldness and her disdain.”
I was silent for a few moments, pensive and indecisive, admiring Mount Hymettus through the open door, which reviled amethysts for transparency and hue. The sun, touching it obliquely, adorned it and granted it life, like Pygmalion, who once caused it to pass supernaturally into Galatea. Then I turned my gaze toward Plangon and I contemplated the mute prayers that were softening her features tenderly. I knew then that I found myself, for the first time, in the presence of an omnipotent passion and my being was filled with religious terror and commiseration.
“Do you know where Posidippus’ house is?” I asked, suddenly
“How could I not know? It’s situated near the enclosure of Diana, on the road that leads to the Areopagus.”
“Did you intend to go and find him there today?”
“What would be the point? In my disarray, I didn’t even tell him that I was going to try to bend your will.”
“That’s good! That’s very good! Will you help me to get dressed?”
I kissed her on the cheek and, proud and joyful, nurturing a bizarre resolution, I dressed swiftly, and obliged Plangon to put a thick veil over her face. I covered my own with equal care, in such a way that no one could distinguish our features and recognize us.
Dusk was falling. The crescent moon was sailing nimbly, like a hollow ship, over the limpid sheet of the sky. The softness of the Phalerian breeze lulled everything, and the immaterial violets that ornamented and tinted Attica in the west were already fading. We went out and started walking, as silent and as decent as two Arrhephore virgins. We climbed the road that runs along the Propylaea and passed close to the Enneacrounos, in front of the venerable grotto in which Apollo hid in order vi
olently to ravish the virgin flower of Creusa, daughter of Erechtheus. From there we followed the slope that leads to the Areopagus, and, in passing along it, stopped in proximity to the vessel that serves for the pomp of the Panathenaia. That is almost the countryside, the limits of the city. The Academy and the enclosure consecrated to Diana already have an agrarian aspect, with their florid vegetation and their olive groves.
“Do you think that Posidippus will pass this way?” I asked Plangon.
I spoke to her with tenderness and amenity, for, although our acquaintance was only a few hours old, I felt seized in her regard with a benevolent and sisterly sympathy.
“At least he passes regularly, at nightfall, returning from the Agora or the Poecile.”
In fact, after a short wait, we saw the young man coming toward us in the lividity of the twilight. I whispered a few rapid words in Plangon’s ear, and then we covered ourselves carefully again and advanced, speaking to one another excitedly, as if we were engaged in a long argument.
“A fortunate hazard puts you in our path, young man,” I said, when we drew level with Posidippus. “You’ll become our mediator in the quarrel that separates us. We are sisters, and both equally beautiful, with the result that we cannot decide which of us possesses the preeminence in charm and attractiveness. If you promise to judge us and to award the apple impartially, we’re ready in exchange to remain with you all night.”
As I pronounced these eccentric words, I took possession of his arm. For her part, Plangon put her arm around his neck. Thus, Posidippus found himself narrowly held and wedged between our bodies.
“Leave me alone, foolish young women,” he said to us, laughing. “My eyes are not disposed to judge your beauty and, although it might seem strange to you, I decline the favor that you are willing to grant me.”
“And why do you scorn us thus, presumptuous fellow?”
“Because I can make nothing of your amour. My heart is a prisoner and, if I wanted to soothe my dolors by collecting kisses, a faithful friend is always at her door awaiting my arrival. So cease teasing me like this and find a better and more cheerful companion for your frolics.”
“Do you think, darling, that we will let you flee our arms without a ransom? Rather you shall perish under our fingernails, suffering the fate of Euripides, who, like you, bore no reverence to women, and died maltreated by the women of Thessaly.”
“But I have not said that I’m insensible to amour!” he objected.
“Then come with us. We hold you by right of conquest and will not permit you to play with us and escape.”
“What do you want of me, in sum?”
“You already know our pretentions. You shall open your door to us and realize the hopes that we conceived on seeing you arrive.”
“At least let me see your faces, appreciate them and see whether it is worth the trouble of taking you.”
“The moment has not yet come, but have confidence. Our aspect will be agreeable to you, and as for our games, only think of having the fervor of Hercules when he satisfied the fifty daughters of Thestius in a single night.”
And, laughing and pushing him, we drew him along and went into his house together. Once there, though, he did not want to be patient any longer. After a playful but ardent struggle he snatched away our veils.
What his astonishment and joy was then, I shall not try to describe. When he had sated his sight and his spirits were appeased, I said to him:
“Dear Posidippus, know that I am yielding less to your own amour than that which Plangon has for you. It is to her that you owe having me in your house tonight. That is why I want you to think more of her happiness than mine. Receive us like two inseparable twin sisters. We will both love you, and you will have the illusion that our lips only form a unique source of kisses.” And, turning toward Plangon: “Isn’t it so, Plangon, that you consent to share him with me?”
She did not reply, but folded up and let herself fall into my arms. Posidippus’ kisses confounded us...
Then, I understood how barbaric and vain a passion jealousy is, and how amour, healthily understood, can, on the contrary, fertilize amity and render it more humane.
At dawn, Posidippus closed his eyes and slept like a weary child. And I left, glad about having made two people happy.
Toward the middle of the day, Posidippus sent me three mina. Plangon added to that a small mirror in silver and onyx, depicting the goddess of amour sitting on two turtle-doves. Posidippus’ wax tablets contained an epigram that I transcribe here, having found it harmonious:
“Naïs has kissed me gently, and Plangon while biting me. Then, it was Naïs who became aggressive and Plangon who showed herself as tender as a timid dove. And as their two bodies were similarly perfect, I scarcely knew whether I was embracing the graces of Naïs or those of Plangon. I therefore married the blonde tresses and the black tresses under my kiss, the ebony eyes and those of amethyst, I matched the breasts of my lovers and I clasped their double beauty in a single embrace, desiring, if it were possible, to penetrate the depths of their hearts. Why did the dawn come, why did the matinal cock announce so rapidly the arrival of the jealous spouse of Tithonus? It would have been easier to separate the tortuous enlacement of vines than to disentangle me from their mingled arms. I think of nothing but enjoying again their twin embraces, and I shall never consent again to possess one sole mistress, for where would I find so many charms united in a single woman?”
IX
The other evening, while walking alone in the moonlight, I formed insensate desires and my fluttering imagination went from one to another.
The sky lavished its voluptuous caresses of light, and the earth seemed to offer itself to them, swooning and submissive.
One might have thought that the temples of the Acropolis, their colors already faded, and the white Lycabette, and the soft Mount Hymettus, were not in the order of real things, but rather belonged to the light and chimerical countries that one ought to perceive in the Valley of Shadows.
I did not want to go home alone that evening but I could not resign myself to welcoming an ordinary lover. Men touched my peplos but I allowed them to continue on their way. I had not even thought of passing through the Ceramicus to see whether my name was inscribed alongside an advantageous offer. I appealed with all my prayers for the advent of a brilliant poet who would desire me and exalt me harmoniously, or even some supernatural and capricious lover, like Jupiter, who might penetrate his elect by taking on the appearance of a shower of gold or shading them sensually with a swan’s wing.
My lunatic reveries led my complaisantly as far as the marvelous amours of Pasiphae and the white bull. I evoked the passionate queen at the moment when, urged by her ardor, she entered for the first time the golden cow sculpted expressly by Daedalus. She certainly leaned joyfully, I thought, on the fresh metal of its impatient limbs. She must even have molded herself to it narrowly, and I thought I could see her, curious and attentive, her breasts heaving with anxiety against the inflexible walls of the voluptuous prison...
I was wandering thus, entertaining chimerical thoughts, submissive to the charm of the lunar magic, when, as I passed close to the Enneacrounous fountain, I saw the house of Barathra singularly illuminated, and I heard light and numerous bursts of laughter coming from his garden. I experienced the desire then to go and salute the benevolent old woman who served as my mother in my difficult years. I admire her more than any of my other friends, for I believe that she has an excellent understanding of the resources of our profession.
She was nicknamed Precipice, and that malevolent soubriquet allows the divination of the great captivation that scarcely left Barathra any friends except for other Athenian courtesans. That is easily understandable, in any case, when one sees her eyes, which conserve a communicative warmth even today, her hair, naturally black in spite of the years, and the nobility of her stance, which made someone say the other day to Clepsydra that only Demetrius Poliorcetes and Barathra, outside of a ro
yal lineage, possess such a majestic attitude.
I owe a great deal to that friend. It was her who initiated me into the profession, while revealing to me the reefs of youth and obliging me to retain the cleanliness of the body that attracts lovers and the mildness of manners that retains them. Before knowing her, I can say that I was scarcely formed, and that I did not know how to comport myself decently either at table or in bed. It was her who taught me to eat sparingly, not to precipitate myself upon the dishes, to appear to be savoring my lover’s eyes rather than the wine, and always to show myself sated and sober, without stuffing too much food into my mouth and inflating my cheeks like a flute-player. I also owe to her the tact and the cunning of the profession and the little secrets of the alcove that enable us to retain lovers. Finally, it is her who advised me to display my hips innocently, to deploy my nostrils as if I were always lying in wait for amour, and to maintain an artificial virginal firmness in my body, in order to permit my lovers the most flattering illusions.
May Venus aid me to follow Barathra’s example to the end. After having followed a long sensual career without amour and without entanglements with the law, she still earns money by making her slaves work. Retired from the profession but not from the business, she now procures auletrides from Lydia for the banquets of the rich.
On going in that evening I found her with the parasite Thrasys, a once-opulent citizen who ruined himself for her. He still remains her faithful friend. If she has squeezed his fortune out of him, at least she still accords him her favors gratuitously by way of interest, so punctilious and upright is she.
“Welcome, little Naïs,” Barathra said to me, getting up and welcoming me graciously. “I follow your ever-increasing renown with interest. You are, moreover, worthy of the best destiny. Like Naïs, your mother, you ought to share the bed of a king. Unfortunately, the monarchs of today have lost strength and taste, and one would even search in vain for an Alcibiades or a Harpalus. Only Poliorcetes appears worthy of royalty, but he is wallowing with old Lamia. She has doubtless bewitched him in order to hold him prisoner with her lapsed beauty.”
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