The Washington times., 1923-04-15

Cypros doing here where the white
bust of Apollo rose from among
the tall lily-like flowers?
GIVE just had about four hours
sleep-you know what one feels
like when ones been travelling!
always say there's more real life
in Gaiilee than there is in Judea
the people aren't afraid to be
human beings there"
Was it dream? No, no! She.
was in Evans arms and he in hers.
Repression is always a bad
thing. 1t damns the natural in
stincts of man, the animal, until
they poison the functions of man,
the thinker"
Another voice-a mans. If this
was only dream she would clasp
it still-give herself utterly to the
sweetness of it. A dream.
Whats the sense of denying
oneself anything one can get?
We've only one life to live, haven't
we?''
Take what the day gives and
distrust the morrow as the poet
says. A philosophy / have always
endorsed"
1t was dream. A sickening
sense of depression re-established
itself in Cassandra's waking con-
seriousness. She opened her eyes.
Afternoon light entered through
high-placed lattices. From behind
heavy dark-blue curtains, worked
with raised peacocks in golden
thread, came the two voices.
Trust you to agree with every
thing that spells a good time!
don't know much about poetry
myself. but it sounds sensible.
Have another drink-I'm going
to-"
So much for that which was
audible. The costly curtains were
Opaque. Cassandra had no knowl-
edge whatever of what was beyond
them; of the silken veil screening
the open end of the chamber from
a tesselated court where oleanders
grew in tube; of the lion and tiger
skins upon its floor; of the table
of malachite holding statuette
of the Goddess Fortuna, a golden
platter of incense embers and
pair of silver-gilt wine cups.
Cypros lay on an ebony bed on one
side of the malachite table and her
visitor reclining similarly upon the
other side. He was dressed like
a Roman-in fine white linen, pur-
pie bordered. A touch of silver
at the temples lent an added dis
tinction to his well-modelled head.
The brow was broad. The long
shaped rather deeply set grey
eyes were unusual. The slight
droop of the side indicated AFRO
gance-an exaggerated vanity.
But in the mouth with its little
cynical twist there was an extraor-
binary blending of a sort of fem
mime cruelty with all that is most
brutal in the sensuality of pitt
lessly sense hungry man.
"Your wine, Cypros," said the
visitor, els better than most
poetry. Whoever added the spices
and sweetening is an artist"
ooh, nonsense! What are you
flattering me for? If you want to
borrow money I'm poor woman.
But I've something that will in
terest you"
GOOD looking?"
"Good looking! Gods and
furies! Do | trouble myself with
anything less than a rarity? Is
that what you think of my taste?
She's a jewel--a kings daughter!
Pure bred. Am a judge of hands
and ankles or am | not? She's
lying asleep now behind those cur
tains. D'you want to look at
herr"
presently"
On the low bed on the other side
of the peacock Aangings there was
a movement. Cassandra, fully
awake, sat up suddenly. She
lean~d little forward, intent in
every muscle. lnGT0 was ITO
egress from the place where she
was save through the rich and
heavy curtains that confronted
her.
'Is she dark or blond?" 1t was
the mans voice.
Ozark: A kings daughter, |
tell your +,
/ ever had any dealings with, to
my knowledge, cursed me by all
her peoples gods. Very ineffec-
tive, outlandish gods, probably.
She was a girl with very fine grey
eyes-a species of sea grey. Bar
barian, of course. 1t must be
more than twenty years ago, but
I've never forgotten her pictur-
esque curses. She was like a wild
animal taken in a net, by turns
furious and exhausted. | sold her
after little while. Her gods were
singularly ineffective even with re-
gard to herself. She had hated
everything Roman with sort of
madness, yet the blood of her first
born chNd-if it ever saw the light
carried the wolf milk that is the
heritage of Romulus."