# Satanella (1932)/Chapter 1

Roderigo Gonvazales, Knight of the Johannite order, Wandered on his morning vigil As had been his daily custom; For the Isle of Rhodos was then Bulwark of the Christian nations 'gainst the Godless Turkish heathen.
As he left the castle portals He beheld a barefoot child there Leaning 'gainst the massive entrance. Tender body as if breathed In a gaily colored bodice, And her black hair hast'ly gathered Underneath a snow-white kerchief.
Soon as Roderigo reached her, Smilingly she lifted towards him Eyes that burned as sparks of fire, ​And she handed him a flow'ret, Mountain flower strangely scented, With white ribbons tied together.
Roderigo smiled in greeting, Kissed the gaily colored blossoms, Leaning over till his curls Lightly touched upon her forehead, From his lips escaped a question As the scent escapes from flowers:
—Pretty child, what do they call you?
—Sir, they call me Satanella!
—Satanella? . . . What a strange name Gallantly the knight retorted, But full worthy that an angel Bow before your Godly beauty!
And thereafter, every morning At the same time, after daybreak, Dusky, barefoot child would stand there At the citadel's wide portals. . . .
Thus the knight received each morning One lone flower, kissed its blossoms— Thinking perhaps he was kissing Satanella's lips so tender.
​But one day, in early Autumn Disappeared his Satanella, As a bird from forest's shadows As a golden bee from meadows . . . Flying, mayhap, with the swallows.
But next year, when through the window May exhaled sweet scent of roses, She returned there with the first bird, With first primrose of the meadows. Soon the knight became accustomed To the flowers and the kisses, While his kisses often wandered From the blooms to lips so tender, Like the bees for honey hung'ring.
Thus, today, long winter over, With the blooms came Satanella. But, my heavens—child no longer But a woman in full beauty. Bud of amaranth no longer Now a scented rose, dark colored: Now a bashful child no longer But a maid, eyes closed demurely In a joyous, glad confusion. Tender lips that were but segments Of pale leaves of briar roses, Now have opened in full blossom ​For whose heavy, toxic nectar One could die with endless yearning. And the buds upon her bosom Forward shot like restless billows Till your head swam in a circle Longing for a restful moment On their dusky, silky velvet. And her hair now closely braided In three garlands round her forehead, Like a frame about a picture; Once released, would surely tumble To her heels like waves of ocean.
But another transformation:— At the gate she stood no longer, But amidst the crowding masses She was dancing in the market. All around her, like an ocean Colored caps and dusky features, People shouting, noisy discourse 'twixt the tambourine and cymbal. Like a lily twig, her body, In her eyes a flame of lightning Slender limbs in dancing, twirling Like a leaf, when stirred by breezes.
​Roderigo thus had seen her In the market place this morning. Saw all this, and all his being Lost itself within his bosom. All day long he heard resounding "Satanella! Satanella!" And at eve in contemplation He would sit, o'er empty goblets Cursing at his darkened cassock.