perfume of flowers—­and thou wast not engulfed in the unspeakable enchantments of her unveiled breast.  Thou hast listened to the jealous voice which said to thee, ‘Refrain!’ Dupe, dupe, miserable dupe!  Oh, regrets!  Oh, remorse!  Oh, despair!  Not to have the joy to carry to hell the memory of that never-to-be-forgotten hour, and to cry to God, ’Burn my flesh, dry up all the blood in my veins, break all my bones, thou canst not take from me the remembrance which sweetens and refreshes me for ever and ever!’ . . .  Thais is dying!  Preposterous God, if thou knewest how I laugh at Thy hell!  Thais is dying, and she will never be mine—­never! never!”

And as the boat came down the river with the current, he remained whole days lying on his face, and repeating—­

“Never! never! never!”

Then, at the idea that she had given herself to others, and not to him; that she had poured forth an ocean of love, and he had not wetted his lips therein, he stood up, savagely wild, and howled with grief.  He tore his breast with his nails, and bit the flesh of his arms.  He thought—­

“If I could but kill all those she has loved!”

The idea of these murders filled him with delicious fury.  He dreamed of killing Nicias slowly and leisurely, looking him full in the eyes whilst he murdered him.  Then suddenly his fury melted away.  He wept, he sobbed.  He became feeble and meek.  An unknown tenderness softened his soul.  He longed to throw his arms round the neck of the companion of his childhood and say to him, “Nicias, I love thee, because thou hast loved her.  Talk to me about her.  Tell me what she said to thee.”  And still, without ceasing, the iron of that phrase entered into his soul—­“Thais is dying!”

“Light of day, silvery shadows of night stars, heavens, trees with trembling crests, savage beasts, domestic animals, all the anxious souls of men, do you not hear?  ‘Thais is dying!’ Disappear, ye lights, breezes, and perfumes!  Hide yourselves, ye shapes and thoughts of the universe!  ‘Thais is dying!’ She was the beauty of the world, and all that drew near to her grew fairer in the reflection of her grace.  The old man and the sages who sat near her, at the banquet at Alexandria, how pleasant they were, and how fascinating was their conversation!  A host of brilliant thoughts sprang to their lips, and all their ideas were steeped in pleasure.  And it was because the breath of Thais was on them that all they said was love, beauty, truth.  A delightful impiety lent its grace to their discourse.  They thoroughly expressed all human splendour.  Alas! all that is but a dream.  Thais is dying!  Oh, how easy it will be to me to die of her death!  But canst thou only die, withered embryo, fetus steeped in gall and scalding tears?  Miserable abortion, dost thou think thou canst taste death, thou who hast never known life?  If only God exists, that he may damn me.  I hope for it—­I wish it.  God, I hate Thee—­dost Thou hear?  Overwhelm me with Thy damnation.  To compel Thee to, I spit in Thy face.  I must find an eternal hell, to exhaust the eternity of rage which consumes me.”