Part 53 (1/2)
Democrates drew a step nearer.
”Ah! Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite the Golden-by what name shall I call my G.o.ddess?” Hermione drew back a step. There was danger in his eyes. ”I have loved you, loved you long. Before Glaucon took you in marriage I loved you. But Eros and Hymen hearkened to his prayers, not mine. You became his bride. I wore a bright face at your wedding. You remember I was Glaucon's groomsman, and rode beside you in the bridal car. You loved him, he seemed worthy of you. Therefore I trod my own grief down into my heart, and rejoiced with my friends. But to cease loving you I could not. Truly they say Eros is the strongest G.o.d, and pitiless-do not the poets say b.l.o.o.d.y Ares begat him-”
”Spare me mythologies,” interposed Hermione, with another step back.
”As you will, but you shall hearken. I have desired this moment for two years. Not as the weak girl given by her father, but as the fair G.o.ddess who comes to me gladly, I do desire you. And I know you will smile on me when you have heard me through.”
”Keep back your eloquence. You have destroyed Glaucon. That is enough.”
”Hear me.” Democrates cried desperately now. Hermione feared even to retreat farther, lest he pa.s.s to violence. She summoned courage and looked him in the eye.
”Say on, then. But remember I am a woman and alone save for Cleopis. If you profess to love me, you will not forget that.”
But Democrates was pa.s.sing almost beyond the limits of coherent speech.
”Oh, when you come to me, you will not know what a price I have paid for you. In Homer's day men wooed their wives with costly gifts, but I-have I not paid for you with my soul? My soul, I say-honour, friends.h.i.+p, country, what has weighed against Himeros, 'Master Desire,'-the desire ever for you!”
She hardly understood him, his speech flowed so thick. She knew he was on the edge of reason, and feared to answer lest she drive beyond it.
”Do you hear the price I have paid? Do you still look on in cold hate, lady? Ah, by Zeus, even in your coldest, most forbidding mood you are fair as the Paphian when she sprang above the sea! And I will win you, lady, I will win your heart, for they shall do you homage, even all Athens, and I will make you a queen. Yes! the house of Athena on the Acropolis shall be your palace if you will, and they will cry in the Agora, 'Way, way for Hermione, glorious consort of Democrates our king!' ”
”Sir,” spoke Hermione, while her hands grew chill, for now she was sure he raved, ”I have not the joy to comprehend. There is no king in Athens, please Athena, there never will be. Treason and blasphemy you speak all in one.” She sought vainly with her eyes for refuge. None in sight. The hill slope seemed empty save for the scattered brown boulders. Far away a goat was wandering. She motioned to Cleopis. The old woman was staring now, and doubtless thought Democrates was carrying his familiarities too far, but she was a weak creature, and at best could only scream.
”Treason and blasphemy,” cried Democrates, dropping on his knees, his frame shaking with dishonest pa.s.sion, ”yes! call them so now. They will be blessed truth for me in a month, for me, for you. Hermes the Trickster is a mighty G.o.d. He has befriended Eros. I shall possess Athens and possess you. I shall be the most fortunate mortal upon earth as now I am most miserable. Ah! but I have waited so long.” He sprang to his feet. ”Tarry, _makaira_, tarry! A kiss!”
Hermione screamed at last shrilly and turned to fly. Instantly Democrates was upon her. In that fluttering white dress escape was hopeless.
”Apollo pursuing Daphne!”-his crazed shout as his arms closed around her,-”but Daphne becomes no laurel this time. Her race is lost. She shall pay the forfeit.”
She felt him seize her girdle. He swung her face to face. She saw his wide eyes, his mad smile. His hot breath smote her cheek. Cleopis at last was screaming.
”Mine,” he triumphed, while he forced her resisting head to his own, ”there is none to hinder!”
But even while the woman's flesh crept back at his impure kiss, a giant power came rending the twain apart. A man had sundered them, sprung from the ground or from heaven belike, or from behind a boulder? He tore Democrates's hands away as a lion tears a lamb. He dashed the mad orator p.r.o.ne upon the sod, and kicked him twice, as of mingled hatred and contempt. All this Hermione only knew in half, while her senses swam. Then she came to herself enough to see that the stranger was a young man in a sailor's loose dress, his features almost hidden under the dishevelled hair and beard. All this time he uttered no word, but having smitten Democrates down, leaped back, rubbing his hands upon his thigh, as if despising to touch so foul an object. The orator groaned, staggered upward. He wore a sword. It flew from its scabbard as he leaped on the sailor. The stranger put forth his hand, s.n.a.t.c.hed his opponent's wrist, and with lightning dexterity sent the blade spinning back upon the gra.s.s.
Then he threw Democrates a second time, and the latter did not rise again hastily, but lay cursing. The fall had not been gentle.
But all this while Cleopis was screaming. People were hastening up the hill,-fishermen from a skiff upon the beach, slaves who had been carrying bales to the haven. In a moment they would be surrounded by a dozen. The strange sailor turned as if to fly. He had not spoken one word. Hermione herself at last called to him.
”My preserver! Your name! Blessed be you forever!”
The fisherfolk were very close. Cleopis was still screaming. The sailor looked once into the lady's eyes.
”I am nameless! You owe me nothing!” And with that he was gone up the hill slopes, springing with long bounds that would have mocked pursuing, had any attempted. But Cleopis quenched her outcry instantly; her screams had been drowned by a louder scream from Hermione, who fell upon the greensward, no marble whiter than her face. The nurse ran to her mistress.
Democrates staggered to his feet. Whatever else the chastis.e.m.e.nt had given him, it had restored his balance of mind. He told the fisherfolk a glib story that a sailor wandering along the strand had accosted Hermione, that he himself had chased the villain off, but had tripped whilst trying to follow. If the tale was not of perfect workmans.h.i.+p at all points, there was no one with interest to gainsay it. A few ran up the hill slope, but the sailor was nowhere in sight. Hermione was still speechless. They made a litter of oars and sail-cloth and carried her to her mother. Democrates oiled Cleopis's palm well, that she should tell nothing amiss to Lysistra.
It was a long time before Hermione opened her eyes in her chamber. Her first words were:-