The Tour

d the great quadrireme glided evenly and softly, as though upon a lake, under a wide firmament of stars. The thin h

er the same refrain, after which the boatswain gave out the chant, after which the chorus of rowers again threw back their long, hushed phrase of melancholy, the so

ship herself, with her swanlike raised prow, suggested an elegant monster swimming through the lake-calm waters of that silvery night-world, a monster with a swan's neck and hu

hout the rowers' melancholy; and there was one sailor who gave the time in a higher voice, for the seamen were at liberty to sing, but their singing must be artistically led, because melodious music meant a prosperous voyage and averte

phrase. It was-while as it were golden beads tinkled from twanged harp-strings: those very bright gold beads which tinkle from the strings of the little four-stringed Lesbian harp-a hymn to the goddess Aphro

trewn air, brought him a moment's respite from grief. He lay calmer now, sated with despair, with his soul of sorrow as it were bathed in the melodious music. He stared, as though without thinking, now almo

w, in this night of coolness and melody, there was just a brief rest, a moment of annihilation, almost a sense of wistful well-being. And

de his couch; and a lit

nd Thrasyllus for me and t

serious movement of reverence, crept backwards and disappeared. It was not long before he lifted

all, lean, serious, grey-haired and grey-bearded. H

sing, stretched ou

id, "forgive me if

. The old tutor had taken a seat on a footstool beside his master's

ou; and you have never forbidden it. It is well; and I am content. I serve you and I love you. But I thank you for that generous word. That is what you are: generous, just. You are far above all pride. You know how to admit when you are wrong. And I, on my side, if you think t

st, Thrasyllus, and I raised m

r shrugged h

trol and master yourself. But I, I am your slave, though I feel for you like a father; and that you raised your hand

here, inside me, in my breast! Then I must have her, have her back, have her her

p breath, moa

We have searched everywhere. You have vainly squandered treasures to find her. Ilia is gone. It is three months now since s

ough she was a slave! Everything for her and because of her! She was my slave, but she had slaves herself, male and female: she had the jewels of an empress, she had the raiment of a goddess! I worshipped her as I would Venus herself! And she has disappeared, she has disappeared without a trace, without a trace! Not a thing of hers

ing cry, a scream of ang

as heard in the night

the melancholy chant of the rowers, the joy-song of the sailors

For the rest, silence, silence, silence ...

the sailor who led the singing set the time. The seamen took up the chant. And bright, golden beads from the four-stringed harp fell like

e!... Aph