Part 4 (1/2)
”Achilles,” said the King of Ithaca, ”is worthy to be honoured by us, for he died gloriously for h.e.l.las. He demands that the daughter of Priam, the virgin Polyxena, should be immolated on his tomb. Greeks!
appease the manes of the hero, and let the son of Peleus rejoice in Hades.”
But the king of kings replied--
”Spare the Trojan virgins we have torn from the altars. Sufficient misfortunes have already fallen on the ill.u.s.trious race of Priam.”
He spoke thus because he shared the couch of the sister of Polyxena, and the wise Ulysses reproached him for preferring the couch of Ca.s.sandra to the lance of Achilles.
The Greeks showed they shared the opinion of Ulysses, by loudly clas.h.i.+ng their weapons. The death of Polyxena was resolved on, and the appeased shade of Achilles vanished. The music--sometimes wild and sometimes plaintive--followed the thoughts of the personages in the drama. The spectators burst into applause.
Paphnutius, who applied divine truth to everything murmured--
”This fable shows how cruel the wors.h.i.+ppers of false G.o.ds were.”
”All religions breed crimes,” replied the Epicurean. ”Happily, a Greek, who was divinely wise, has freed men from foolish terrors of the unknown--”
Just at that moment, Hecuba, her white hair dishevelled, her robe tattered, came out of the tent in which she was kept captive. A long sigh went up from the audience, when her woeful figure appeared. Hecuba had been warned by a prophetic dream, and lamented her daughter's fate and her own. Ulysses approached her, and asked her to give up Polyxena.
The old mother tore her hair, dug her nails into her cheeks, and kissed the hands of the cruel chieftain, who, with unpitying calmness, seemed to say--
”Be wise, Hecuba, and yield to necessity. There are amongst us many old mothers who weep for their children, now sleeping under the pines of Ida.”
And Hecuba, formerly queen of the most flouris.h.i.+ng city in Asia, and now a slave, bowed her unhappy head in the dust.
Then the curtain in front of one of the tents was raised, and the virgin Polyxena appeared. A tremor pa.s.sed through all the spectators. They had recognised Thais. Paphnutius saw again the woman he had come to seek.
With her white arm she held above her head the heavy curtain. Motionless as a splendid statue, she stood, with a look of pride and resignation in her violet eyes, and her resplendent beauty made a shudder of commiseration pa.s.s through all who beheld her.
A murmur of applause uprose, and Paphnutius, his soul agitated, and pressing both hands to his heart, sighed--
”Why, O my G.o.d, hast thou given this power to one of Thy creatures?”
Dorion was not so disturbed. He said--
”Certainly the atoms, which have momentarily met together to form this woman, present a combination which is agreeable to the eye. But that is but a freak of nature, and the atoms know not what they do. They will some day separate with the same indifference as they came together.
Where are now the atoms which formed Lais or Cleopatra? I must confess that women are sometimes beautiful. But they are liable to grievous afflictions, and disgusting inconveniences. That is patent to all thinking men, though the vulgar pay no attention to it. And women inspire love, though it is absurd and ridiculous to love them.”
Such were the thoughts of the philosopher and the ascetic as they gazed on Thais. They neither of them noticed Hecuba, who turned to her daughter, and seemed to say by her gestures--
”Try to soften the cruel Ulysses. Employ your tears, your beauty, and your youth.”
Thais--or rather Polyxena herself--let fall the curtain of the tent. She made a step forward, and all hearts were conquered. And when, with firm but light steps, she advanced towards Ulysses, her rhythmic movements, which were accompanied by the sound of flutes, created in all present such happy visions, that it seemed as though she were the divine centre of all the harmonies of the world. All eyes were bent on her; the other actors were obscured by her effulgence, and were not noticed. The play continued, however.
The prudent son of Laertes turned away his head, and hid his hand under his mantle, in order to avoid the looks and kisses of the suppliant. The virgin made a sign to him to fear nothing. Her tranquil gaze said--
”I follow you, Ulysses, and bow to necessity--because I wish to die.
Daughter of Priam, and sister of Hector, my couch, which was once worthy of Kings, shall never receive a foreign master. Freely do I quit the light of day.”
Hecuba, lying motionless in the dust, suddenly rose and enfolded her daughter in a last despairing embrace. Polyxena gently, but resolutely, removed the old arms which held her. She seemed to say--