Part 33 (1/2)
Should her love be weaker than his? She it was who had been the innocent cause of his death, and she would share it. One prayer she breathed that their cruel parents would grant them at last to be joined together, and in one urn confine their ashes. Of the drooping mulberry tree, beneath whose kindly shade she made her piteous lament, she begged one boon--that by the purple color of its fruit it would bear perpetual witness to their love and their untimely death.
Then in her bosom she plunged the sword, yet warm with the blood of its slaughtered lord, and fell dead beside him.
The prayer that dying Thisbe breathed was heard by compa.s.sionate G.o.ds and parents. Their ashes were mixed in one golden urn, and from that sad day the fruit of the mulberry tree has been stained a l.u.s.trous purple.
HERO AND LEANDER
BY MRS. GUY E. LLOYD
The G.o.ddess Venus was the Queen of Love and Beauty, and her wors.h.i.+p was spread over all the world, for indeed she was one of the greatest of the immortals, and even the father of G.o.ds and of men himself had to own her power.
She had many great and noted temples, and one of these was at Sestos, close by the side of the h.e.l.lespont, the sea in which h.e.l.le sank and was drowned when the Golden Ram carried off her brother Phrixus and herself.
When this tale begins the priestess of the temple of Venus at Sestos was a very beautiful maiden called Hero. It was her duty to tend the altar of the G.o.ddess, to offer sacrifices, to hang up the votive offerings of wors.h.i.+pers round the walls, and to see that the slaves appointed to the work kept the marble steps and pillars always s.h.i.+ning and polished.
And many a youth came to wors.h.i.+p at the temple, less for the sake of the G.o.ddess than for the beautiful priestess; but Hero never gave a glance at any man but carefully fulfilled her daily task, and every night retired to a tall tower on the cliff beside the sea, where she lived alone with an aged nurse who loved her dearly and was ready to do anything for her.
Every year a great festival was held at Sestos, in honor of Adonis, the beautiful boy whom Venus had loved, and who had been slain by a wild boar. To this festival flocked all the countryside. Large-eyed oxen drew the creaking wagons all adorned with flowers and gra.s.ses, and crowded with rustics from the inland farms, and across the narrow strait came gay barges, bringing wors.h.i.+pers from the villages along the opposite sh.o.r.e. In the festal company there came one day from the town of Abydos, a beautiful youth named Leander. He was tall and straight as a young poplar, his bright eyes had a ready smile, his red lips a pleasant word for every one, but no maiden had ever yet won his love.
Leander only laughed at these reproaches, but hidden within his heart was the dream of a maiden fairer and sweeter than any he yet had seen, to whom he would give his whole heart, and who, so he dreamt, would give him love for love.
So it came about that when the yearly feast of Venus at Sestos returned, Leander determined to go and sacrifice at the altar of the G.o.ddess and pray to her that he might meet the maiden of his heart's desire.
With the throng of wors.h.i.+pers Leander mounted the hill to the temple of Venus. White marble steps led up to a bright crystal pavement that was called by the citizens of Sestos the gla.s.s of Venus. The walls were of veined marble, and on the dome a cunning artist had painted a vine of vivid green, with Bacchus, the friend of Venus, gathering the purple grapes. On the wall behind was Proteus, the changeful G.o.d of the changeful sea, whence Venus had arisen. Rich offerings of gold, silver, precious stones, and gorgeous raiment hung on the walls between the carven figures. Leander gazed his fill at all these wonders, till his eyes were caught and held by the statue of the G.o.ddess that stood on a pedestal in the middle of the temple. Beneath her feet was a great sea-sh.e.l.l, borne on a breaking wave; in her hands, held close against her breast, a pair of doves; her face, looking out upon her wors.h.i.+pers, was such a miracle of loveliness that the gazer caught his breath in awe and wonder.
Before the statue stood a little silver altar, and at this the priestess was kneeling when Leander came to the temple, for the sacrifice was just about to be consummated. For a while Leander saw nothing but the face of the marble G.o.ddess; then the kneeling priestess, robed in her gauzy veil, arose and faced for a moment the congregation of wors.h.i.+pers. Leander's eyes turned from the marble image to the living woman who stood before it, and the eyes of Hero met his. As if fascinated they gazed at one another, while in both their hearts flamed up the sudden fire of love.
The wors.h.i.+pers all knelt, and Leander knelt with them, but his prayer was not to Venus: his soul was full and overflowing with love for the fair priestess, and it was of her alone he thought.
It seemed as though Hero had read his thoughts, for as one who walks in his sleep she drew nearer to the young man.
He started to his feet, and bending forward grasped her hand. The sacrifice was over, the wors.h.i.+pers were dispersing, the two were left alone, and for a moment they stood motionless, both of them trembling and awed at their own emotion.
But when Hero, as if waking from a dream, strove to free her hand, Leander tightened his hold and whispered eagerly: ”Nay, leave me not, fair maiden, for I love thee. Never before have I cared aught for mortal maid, but now thou art more to me than everything in the world beside.”
Hero flushed a rosy red, and her long eyelashes veiled the light of her eyes.
”I know thee not, kind youth,” she faltered, struggling betwixt love and maiden modesty, abashed at what she had done, and at the thought of how Leander's words had made her heart leap for joy. ”It is not fitting that I should speak with thee--here.” And then, in a lower whisper, turning half away and blus.h.i.+ng more deeply than before, the maiden added hastily: ”I dwell alone with my servant in yonder tower by the sea-sh.o.r.e, and when I leave the service of the G.o.ddess I ever put a light in the turret at the top, so that those on the sea may know where the haven lies and steer safely home. But thou must not seek me there.”
And s.n.a.t.c.hing her hand from Leander's grasp the affrighted maiden turned and fled, while the tears sprang to her eyes, and as she ran she wept and smiled. As she mounted the slope that led to her tower on the cliff she slackened her pace, and das.h.i.+ng the tears from her eyes, looked back. Leander stood still where she had left him, gazing after her. Flinging her veil back over her shoulder she resumed her homeward way, slowly and with many a backward look.
When she came to her tower Hero told her old servant to lay out all in readiness for the evening meal, and then to retire to her chamber above.
”Thou art overtired, my pretty one,” said the old crone. ”These crowded festivals and long days of sacrifice are too much for such a tender flower as thou. Never fear, I will leave thee here in peace--and see, I will light thy lamp in the turret above, even now in the daylight, then may I seek the couch whereof my old bones ever are full fain, and thou shalt not need to climb those weary stairs.”
”As thou wilt, good nurse,” answered Hero, turning aside to take off her veil and to hide her blush of pleasure. She had told Leander that the light was the signal that her office was ended for the day--would he notice it? Would he come?
She wandered out in the twilight and broke off branches of roses to deck the room; she put on the table the candied fruits and honey-cakes and wine of Cyprus that the wors.h.i.+pers of Venus offer to her priestess. The heavy footsteps of the old dame sounded as she mounted the stair and came back to her chamber and her wished-for bed. Then silence fell on the tower, and Hero sat with beating heart and waited.