On the following day Candaules again took Gyges aside and continued the
conversation begun under the portico of the Heracleidæ. Having freed
himself from the embarrassment of broaching the subject, he freely
unbosomed himself to his confidant; and had Nyssia been able to
overhear him she might perhaps have been willing to pardon his conjugal
indiscretions for the sake of his passionate eulogies of her charms.
Gyges listened to all these bursts of praise with the slightly
constrained air of one who is yet uncertain whether his interlocutor is
not feigning an enthusiasm more ardent than he actually feels, in order
to provoke a confidence naturally cautious to utter itself. Can-daules
at last said to him in a tone of disappointment: ‘I see, Gyges, that you
do not believe me. You think I am boasting, or have allowed myself to be
fascinated like some clumsy labourer by a robust country girl on whose
cheeks Hygeia has crushed the gross hues of health. No, by all the gods!
I have collected within my home, like a living bouquet, the fairest
flowers of Asia and of Greece. I know all that the art of sculptors and
painters has produced since the time of Daedalus, whose statues walked
and spoke. Linus, Orpheus, Homer, have taught me harmony and rhythm. I
do not look about me with Love’s bandage blindfolding my eyes. I
judge of all things coolly. The passions of youth never influence my
admiration, and when I am as withered, decrepit, wrinkled, as Tithonus
in his swaddling bands, my opinion will be still the same. But I forgive
your incredulity and want of sympathy. In order to understand me fully,
it is necessary that you should see Nyssia in the radiant brilliancy of
her shining whiteness, free from jealous drapery, even as Nature with
her own hands moulded her in a lost moment of inspiration which never
can return. This evening I will hide you in a corner of the bridal
chamber... you shall see her!’
‘Sire, what do you ask of me?’ returned the young warrior with
respectful firmness. ‘How shall I, from the depths of my dust, from
the abyss of my nothingness, dare to raise my eyes to this sun of
perfections, at the risk of remaining blind for the rest of my life,
or being able to see naught but a dazzling spectre in the midst of
darkness? Have pity on your humble slave, and do not compel him to an
action so contrary to the maxims of virtue. No man should look upon what
does not belong to him. We know that the immortals always punish those
who through imprudence or audacity surprise them in their divine nudity.
Nyssia is the loveliest of all women; you are the happiest of lovers and
husbands. Heracles, your ancestor, never found in the course of his many
conquests aught to compare with your queen. If you, the prince of whom
even the most skilful artists seek judgment and counsel--if you find her
incomparable, of what consequence can the opinion of an obscure soldier
like me be to you? Abandon, therefore, this fantasy, which I presume to
say is unworthy of your royal majesty, and of which you would repent so
soon as it had been satisfied.’
‘Listen, Gyges,’ returned Candaules; ‘I perceive that you suspect me;
you think that I seek to put you to some proof, but by the ashes of that
funeral pyre whence my ancestor arose a god, I swear to you that I speak
frankly and without any after-purpose.’
‘O Candaules, I doubt not of your good faith; your passion is sincere,
but perchance, after I should have obeyed you, you would conceive a deep
aversion to me, and learn to hate me for not having more firmly resisted
your will. You would seek to take back from these eyes, indiscreet
through compulsion, the image which you allowed them to glance upon in a
moment of delirium; and who knows but that you would condemn them to the
eternal night of the tomb to punish them for remaining open at a moment
when they ought to have been closed.’
‘Fear nothing; I pledge my royal word that no evil shall befall you.’
‘Pardon your slave if he still dares to offer some objection, even after
such a promise. Have you reflected that what you propose to me is a
violation of the sanctity of marriage, a species of visual adultery? A
woman often lays aside her modesty with her garments; and once violated
by a look, without having actually ceased to be virtuous, she might deem
that she had lost her flower of purity. You promise, indeed, to feel
no resentment against me; but who can ensure me against the wrath of
Nyssia, she who is so reserved and chaste, so apprehensive, fierce, and
virginal in her modesty that she might be deemed still ignorant of the
laws of Hymen? Should she ever learn of the sacrilege which I am about
to render myself guilty of in deferring to my master’s wishes, what
punishment would she condemn me to suffer in expiation of such a crime?
Who could place me beyond the reach of her avenging anger?’
‘I did not know you were so wise and prudent,’ said Candaules, with
a slightly ironical smile; ‘but such dangers are all imaginary, and I
shall hide you in such a way that Nyssia will never know she has been
seen by any one except her royal husband.’
Being unable to offer any further defence, Gyges made a sign of assent
in token of complete submission to the king’s will. He had made all the
resistance in his power, and thenceforward his conscience could feel
at ease in regard to whatever might happen; besides, by any further
opposition to the will of Candaules, he would have feared to oppose
destiny itself, which seemed striving to bring him still nearer to
Nyssia for some grim ulterior purpose into which it was not given to him
to see further.
Without actually being able to foresee any result, he beheld a thousand
vague and shadowy images passing before his eyes. That subterranean
love, so long crouched at the foot of his soul’s stairway, had climbed
a few steps higher, guided by some fitful glimmer of hope. The weight of
the impossible no longer pressed so heavily upon his breast, now that
he believed himself aided by the gods. In truth, who would have dreamed
that the much-boasted charms of the daughter of Megabazus would ere long
cease to own any mystery for Gyges?
‘Come, Gyges,’ said Candaules, taking him by the hand, ‘let us make
profit of the time. Nyssia is walking in the garden with her women; let
us look at the place, and plan our stratagems for this evening.’
The king took his confidant by the hand and led him along the winding
ways which conducted to the nuptial apartment. The doors of the
sleeping-room were made of cedar planks so perfectly put together that
it was impossible to discover the joints. By dint of rubbing them with
wool steeped in oil, the slaves had rendered the wood as polished as
marble. The brazen nails, with heads cut in facets, which studded them,
had all the brilliancy of the purest gold. A complicated system of
straps and metallic rings, whereof Candaules and his wife alone knew
the combination, served to secure them, for in those heroic ages the
locksmith’s art was yet in its infancy.
Candaules unloosed the knots, made the rings slide back upon the thongs,
raised with a handle which fitted into a mortise the bar that fastened
the door from within, and bidding Gyges place himself against the wall,
turned back one of the folding-doors upon him in such a way as to hide
him completely; yet the door did not fit so perfectly to its frame of
oaken beams, all carefully polished and put up according to line by a
skilful workman, that the young warrior could not obtain a distinct view
of the chamber interior through the interstices contrived to give room
for the free play of the hinges.
Facing the entrance, the royal bed stood upon an estrade of several
steps, covered with purple drapery. Columns of chased silver supported
the entablature, all ornamented with foliage wrought in relief, amid
which Loves were sporting with dolphins, and heavy curtains embroidered
with gold surrounded it like the folds of a tent.
Upon the altar of the household gods were placed vases of precious
metal, paterae enamelled with flowers, double-handled cups, and all
things needful for libations.
Along the walls, which were faced with planks of cedar-wood,
marvellously worked, at regular intervals stood tall statues of black
basalt in the constrained attitudes of Egyptian art, each sustaining in
its hand a bronze torch into which a splinter of resinous wood had been
fitted.
An onyx lamp, suspended by a chain of silver, hung from that beam of the
ceiling which is called the black beam, because more exposed than the
others to the embrowning smoke. Every evening a slave carefully filled
this lamp with odoriferous oil.
Near the head of the bed, on a little column, hung a trophy of arms,
consisting of a visored helmet, a twofold buckler made of four bulls’
hides and covered with plates of brass and tin, a two-edged sword, and
several ashen javelins with brazen heads.
The tunics and mantles of Candaules were hung upon wooden pegs. They
comprised garments both simple and double; that is, capable of going
twice around the body. A mantle of thrice-dyed purple, ornamented with
embroidery representing a hunting scene wherein Laconian hounds were
pursuing and tearing deer, and a tunic whereof the material, fine and
delicate as the skin which envelops an onion had all the sheen of woven
sunbeams, were especially noticeable. Opposite to the trophy stood
an armchair inlaid with silver and ivory upon which Nyssia hung her
garments. Its seat was covered with a leopard skin more eye-spotted than
the body of Argus, and its foot-support was richly adorned with openwork
carving.
‘I am generally the first to retire,’ observed Candaules to Gyges, ‘and
I always leave this door open as it is now. Nyssia, who has invariably
some tapestry flower to finish, or some order to give her women, usually
delays a little in joining me; but at last she comes, and slowly takes
off, one by one, as though the effort cost her dearly, and lays upon
that ivory chair, all those draperies and tunics which by day envelop
her like mummy bandages. From your hiding-place you will be able to
follow all her graceful movements, admire her unrivalled charms, and
judge for yourself whether Candaules be a young fool prone to vain
boasting, or whether he does not really possess the richest pearl of
beauty that ever adorned a diadem.’
‘O King, I can well believe your words without such a proof as this,’
replied Gyges, stepping forth from his hiding-place. ‘When she has
laid aside her garments,’ continued Candaules, without heeding the
exclamation of his confidant, ‘she will come to lie down with me. You
must take advantage of the moment to steal away, for in passing from the
chair to the bed she turns her back to the door. Step lightly as though
you were treading upon ears of ripe wheat; take heed that no grain
of sand squeaks under your sandals; hold your breath, and retire as
stealthily as possible. The vestibule is all in darkness, and the feeble
rays of the only lamp which remains burning do not penetrate beyond the
threshold of the chamber. It is, therefore, certain that Nyssia cannot
possibly see you; and to-morrow there will be some one in the world who
can comprehend my ecstasies, and will feel no longer astonished at my
bursts of admiration. But see, the day is almost spent; the Sun will
soon water his steeds in the Hesperian waves at the further end of the
world, and beyond the Pillars erected by my ancestors. Return to your
hiding-place, Gyges, and though the hours of waiting may seem long, I
can swear by Eros of the Golden Arrows that you will not regret having
waited.’
After this assurance Candaules left Gyges again hidden behind the door.
‘The compulsory quiet which the king’s young confidant found himself
obliged to maintain left him ample leisure for thought. His situation
was certainly a most extraordinary one. He had loved Nyssia as one loves
a star. Convinced of the hopelessness of the undertaking, he had made
no effort to approach her. And, nevertheless, by a succession of
extraordinary events he was about to obtain a knowledge of treasures
reserved for lovers and husbands only. Not a word, not a glance had
been exchanged between himself and Nyssia, who probably ignored the very
existence of the one being for whom her beauty would so soon cease to be
a mystery. Unknown to her whose modesty would have naught to sacrifice
for you, how strange a situation! To love a woman in secret and find
oneself led by her husband to the threshold of the nuptial chamber, to
have for guide to that treasure the very dragon who should defend all
approach to it, was there not in all this ample food for astonishment
and wonder at the combination of events wrought by destiny?
In the midst of these reflections, he suddenly heard the sound of
footsteps on the pavement. It was only the slaves coming to replenish
the oil in the lamp, throw fresh perfumes upon the coals of the
kamklins, and arrange the purple and saffron-tinted sheepskins which
formed the royal bed.
The hour approached, and Gyges felt his heart beat faster, and the
pulsation of his arteries quicken. He even felt a strong impulse
to steal away before the arrival of the queen, and, after averring
subsequently to Candaules that he had remained, abandon himself
confidently to the most extravagant eulogiums. He felt a strong
repugnance (for, despite his somewhat free life, Gyges was not without
delicacy) to take by stealth a favour for the free granting of which he
would gladly have paid with his life. The husband’s complicity rendered
this theft more odious in a certain sense, and he would have preferred
to owe to any other circumstance the happiness of beholding the marvel
of Asia in her nocturnal toilet. Perhaps, indeed, the approach of
danger, let us acknowledge as veracious historians, had no little to
do with his virtuous scruples. Undoubtedly Gyges did not lack courage.
Mounted upon his war-chariot, with quiver rattling upon his shoulder,
and bow in hand, he would have defied the most valiant warriors; in the
chase he would have attacked without fear the Calydon boar or the Nemean
lion; but--explain the enigma as you will--he trembled at the idea of
looking at a beautiful woman through a chink in a door. No one possesses
every kind of courage. He felt likewise that he could not behold Nyssia
with impunity. It would be a decisive epoch in his life. Through having
obtained but a momentary glimpse of her he had lost all peace of mind;
what, then, would be the result of that which was about to take place?
Could life itself continue for him when to that divine head which fired
his dreams should be added a charming body formed for the kisses of
the immortals? What would become of him should he find himself unable
thereafter to contain his passion in darkness and silence as he had done
till that time? Would he exhibit to the court of Lydia the ridiculous
spectacle of an insane love, or would he strive by some extravagant
action to bring down upon himself the disdainful pity of the queen? Such
a result was strongly probable, since the reason of Candaules himself,
the legitimate possessor of Nyssia, had been unable to resist the
vertigo caused by that superhuman beauty--he, the thoughtless young king
who till then had laughed at love, and preferred pictures and statues
before all things. These arguments were very rational but wholly
useless, for at the same moment Candaules entered the chamber, and
exclaimed in a low but distinct voice as he passed the door:
‘Patience, my poor Gyges, Nyssia will soon come.’ When he saw that
he could no longer retreat, Gyges, who was but a young man after all,
forgot every other consideration, and no longer thought of aught save
the happiness of feasting his eyes upon the charming spectacle which
Candaules was about to offer him. One cannot demand from a captain of
twenty-five the austerity of a hoary philosopher.
At last a low whispering of raiment sweeping and trailing over marble,
distinctly audible in the deep silence of the night, announced the
approach of the queen. In effect it was she. With a step as cadenced and
rhythmic as an ode, she crossed the threshold of the thalamus, and the
wind of her veil with its floating folds almost touched the burning
cheek of Gyges, who felt wellnigh on the point of fainting, and found
himself compelled to seek the support of the wall; but soon recovering
from the violence of his emotions, he approached the chink of the door,
and took the most favourable position for enabling him to lose nothing
of the scene whereof he was about to be an invisible witness.
Nyssia advanced to the ivory chair and commenced to detach the pins,
terminated by hollow balls of gold, which fastened her veil upon her
head; and Gyges from the depths of the shadow-filled angle where he
stood concealed could examine at his ease the proud and charming face of
which he had before obtained only a hurried glimpse; that rounded neck,
at once delicate and powerful, whereon Aphrodite had traced with the
nail of her little finger those three faint lines which are still at
this very day known as the ‘necklace of Venus’; that white nape on
whose alabaster surface little wild rebellious curls were disporting
and entwining themselves; those silver shoulders, half rising from the
opening of the chlamys, like the moon’s disc emerging from an opaque
cloud. Candaules, half reclining upon his cushions, gazed with fondness
upon his wife, and thought to himself: ‘Now Gyges, who is so cold, so
difficult to please, and so sceptical, must be already half convinced.’
Opening a little coffer which stood on a table supported by one leg
terminating in carven lion’s paws, the queen freed her beautiful arms
from the weight of the bracelets and jewellery wherewith they had been
overburdened during the day--arms whose form and whiteness might well
have enabled them to compare with those of Hera, sister and wife of
Zeus, the lord of Olympus. Precious as were her jewels, they were
assuredly not worth the spots which they concealed, and had Nyssia been
a coquette, one might have well supposed that she only donned them
in order that she should be entreated to take them off. The rings and
chased work had left upon her skin, fine and tender as the interior pulp
of a lily, light rosy imprints, which she soon dissipated by rubbing
them with her little taper-fingered hand, all rounded and slender at its
extremities.
Then with the movement of a dove trembling in the snow of its feathers,
she shook her hair, which being no longer held by the golden pins,
rolled down in languid spirals like hyacinth flowers over her back
and bosom. Thus she remained for a few moments ere reassembling the
scattered curls and finally re-uniting them into one mass. It was
marvellous to watch the blond ringlets streaming like jets of liquid
gold between the silver of her fingers; and her arms undulating like
swans’ necks as they were arched above her head in the act of twisting
and confining the natural bullion. If you have ever by chance examined
one of those beautiful Etruscan vases with red figures on a black
ground, and decorated with one of those subjects which are designated
under the title of ‘Greek Toilette,’ then you will have some idea of the
grace of Nyssia in that attitude which, from the age of antiquity to our
own era, has furnished such a multitude of happy designs for painters
and statuaries.
Having thus arranged her coiffure, she seated herself upon the edge
of the ivory footstool and commenced to untie the little bands which
fastened her buskins. We moderns, owing to our horrible system of
footgear, which is hardly less absurd than the Chinese shoe, no longer
know what a foot is. That of Nyssia was of a perfection rare even in
Greece and antique Asia. The great toe, a little apart like the thumb
of a bird, the other toes, slightly long, and all ranged in charming
symmetry, the nails well shaped and brilliant as agates, the ankles well
rounded and supple, the heel slightly tinted with a rosy hue--nothing
was wanting to the perfection of the little member. The leg attached to
this foot, and which gleamed like polished marble under the lamp-light,
was irreproachable in the purity of its outlines and the grace of its
curves.
Gyges, lost in contemplation, though all the while fully comprehending
the madness of Candaules, said to himself that had the gods bestowed
such a treasure upon him he would have known how to keep it to himself.
‘Well, Nyssia, are you not coming to sleep with me?’ exclaimed
Candaules, seeing that the queen was not hurrying herself in the least,
and feeling desirous to abridge the watch of Gyges.
‘Yes, my dear lord, I will soon be ready,’ answered Nyssia.
And she detached the cameo which fastened the peplum upon her shoulder.
There remained only the tunic to let fall. Gyges, behind the door, felt
his veins hiss through his temples; his heart beat so violently that
he feared it must make itself heard in the chamber, and to repress its
fierce pulsations he pressed his hand upon his bosom; and when Nyssia,
with a movement of careless grace, unfastened the girdle of her tunic,
he thought his knees would give way beneath him.
Nyssia--was it an instinctive presentiment, or was her skin, virginally
pure from profane looks, so delicately magnetic in its susceptibility
that it could feel the rays of a passionate eye though that eye was
invisible?--Nyssia hesitated to strip herself of that tunic, the last
rampart of her modesty. Twice or thrice her shoulders, her bosom,
and bare arms shuddered with a nervous chill, as though they had been
suddenly grazed by the wings of a nocturnal butterfly, or as though an
insolent lip had dared to touch them in the darkness.
At last, seeming to nerve herself for a sudden resolve she doffed
the tunic in its turn; and the white poem of her divine body suddenly
appeared in all its splendour, like the statue of a goddess unveiled on
the day of a temple’s inauguration. Shuddering with pleasure the light
glided and gloated over those exquisite forms, and covered them with
timid kisses, profiting by an occasion, alas, rare indeed! The rays
scattered through the chamber, disdaining to illuminate golden arms,
jewelled clasps, or brazen tripods, all concentrated themselves upon
Nyssia, and left all other objects in obscurity. Were we Greeks of the
age of Pericles we might at our ease eulogise those beautiful serpentine
lines, those polished flanks, those elegant curves, those breasts which
might have served as moulds for the cup of Hebe; but modern prudery
forbids such descriptions, for the pen cannot find pardon for what is
permitted to the chisel; and besides, there are some things which can be
written of only in marble.
Candaules smiled in proud satisfaction. With a rapid step, as though
ashamed of being so beautiful, for she was only the daughter of a man
and a woman, Nyssia approached the bed, her arms folded upon her bosom;
but with a sudden movement she turned round ere taking her place upon
the couch beside her royal spouse, and beheld through the aperture of
the door a gleaming eye flaming like the carbuncle of Oriental legend;
for if it were false that she had a double pupil, and that she possessed
the stone which is found in the heads of dragons, it was at least true
that her green glance penetrated darkness like the glaucous eye of the
cat and tiger.
A cry, like that of a fawn who receives an arrow in her flank while
tranquilly dreaming among the leafy shadows, was on the point of
bursting from her lips, yet she found strength to control herself, and
lay down beside Candaules, cold as a serpent, with the violets of death
upon her cheeks and lips. Not a muscle of her limbs quivered, not a
fibre of her body palpitated, and soon her slow, regular breathing
seemed to indicate that Morpheus had distilled his poppy juice upon her
eyelids.
She had divined and comprehended all.