XII.
Hipyllos strained his attention to the utmost.
Ninus herself seemed to become somewhat thoughtful at hearing the girl’s words.
“Why don’t you speak to your mother?” she said.
“Ah, no, no! Mother will not venture to help me. She wants only what my father desires.”
Ninus was silent a moment.
“Yet there is no other way,” she said. “You must either go to your mother or do what Doris advises.”
“Follow Doris’ advice?” cried the veiled figure impetuously. “No, never, never! What are you asking? I should die with shame.”
How eagerly Hipyllos listened. Here was something he did not understand.
“True,” replied Ninus, “it must be torture to a respectable girl. Yet to him....”
The muffled figure hastily interrupted her.
“Yes,” she said, “I know whom you mean.”
A faint smile flitted over Ninus’ pallid features.
“Aha!” she murmured. “You are afraid I might utter his name, and that it might be an ill-omen. So you think of him very often, pretty maid?”
The young girl bent her head with a bewitching air of embarrassment.
“Then it is true,” Ninus persisted, “you often think of him?”
“Always,” was the reply.
Hipyllos could have hugged the sorceress for that one word.
“Girl,” said Ninus suddenly, “is your mind devout and your body pure?”
“Before coming here I prayed to the gods and anointed myself.”
Ninus was silent for a time, then going close to the muffled form she asked in a whisper:
“Have you ever heard of stones animated with souls, which have fallen from the skies? We call them baetyli, but among your people they are known by the name of orites or siderites.”
“I know nothing about them,” replied the young girl, then seizing the priestess’ hand with an enquiring gesture she murmured: “Tell me, what do these baetyli give?”
“Counsel.”
“What! Stones—talk?”
“Hush, hush! In the name of the gods—silence. It is a great mystery.”
Hipyllos listened attentively. He had already heard of a strange connection between demons and stones; he knew that in the temple of Apollo at Delphi there was a stone that had fallen from the sky, which was daily anointed with oil. This was the stone Rhea had let Cronos swallow instead of Zeus.
“As you know, fair maid,” Ninus continued, “I will gladly serve you.”
“I shall not be ungrateful.”
Ninus shook her head.
“Promises are words written in water,” she murmured.
The young girl, without answering, began to draw a ring from her finger but Ninus prevented it.
“The ring is worth eight drachmae,” she said. “Conjuring with the stone will cost ten times as much. Know that hitherto no Hellene has made a baetylus speak. Such things can only be learned in Phrygia.... Farewell, maiden; we must part....”
“Don’t leave me!” cried the girl, seizing Ninus’ robe. “Look!” she added drawing from her arm a glittering gold band, “if this is enough, take it.”
“I am easily satisfied,” said Ninus, snatching the gold. “Well then, I’ll tell you everything. Before a baetylus will show its power one must fast thrice seven days and hold no conversation with men; then the stone must be washed in spring-water and clad in swaddling clothes like a little child. Even this is not enough. A lamp must be lighted in a clean room in the house, incense offered, and prayers repeated. All this I have done from the hour Doris first told me.”
Ninus now thrust both hands down into the basket and, with great care, drew out a smooth oval stone, wrapped in swaddling clothes like a new-born child.
Holding out the stone, she bowed low.
Hipyllos felt like a person who, at some untimely hour, had entered a sanctuary and beheld things no mortal eye ought to see.
“Maiden,” whispered Ninus, “take the baetylus in your arms and rock it to and fro. But beware of dropping it; for then it would be angry.”
The veiled figure received the stone with evident anxiety.
Ninus now lighted some charcoal on the gridiron by the flame of the lantern, scattered incense upon it, and let the smoke rise before the baetylus. Then, taking it from Clytie’s hands, she removed the swaddling clothes and anointed it with oil.
“Look!” she cried, raising it in the air, “the soul is coming.”
Hipyllos felt a slight thrill of awe. He fancied he saw the stone make a slight movement in the priestess’ hands.
Ninus now rocked it more violently and in a strange tone, that sounded like the monotonous buzzing of an Egyptian sistrum, chanted the following words:
Orites, lend thine ear,
Stone smooth and splendid,
Let us the spirit hear
Within thy heart hid.
Stone that thyself canst stir,
From earth arising,
Lipless art thou, yet murmur
Counsel inspiring.
Again the stone seemed to make a slight movement.
The priestess of Sabazius, bending over it, whispered:
“By the two great mysteries, life and death, I conjure thee, Orites, raise thy voice and answer. Shall this maiden apply to her mother or shall she follow the advice of the slave-girl, Doris?”
A whimpering sound like an infant’s cry was heard.
Ninus bent lower and kissed the stone three times—a strange, weak voice, which seemed to issue from it with difficulty, said slowly, syllable by syllable, the two words:
“O-bey Do-ris!”
Hipyllos had been made no wiser by this scene. He did not yet know what terrible thing had happened to Clytie or for what reason she sought advice.
The priestess of Sabazius wiped the perspiration from her forehead, and in absolute silence washed the baetylus and put on its swaddling clothes.
“See!” she said as she replaced it in the basket, “the spirit is departing again.... But know one thing, girl; you must do what the baetylus advised; the ‘Unknown’ do not give their counsel in vain.”
“I will do it,” replied the muffled figure sighing. “But—the other thing of which Doris told you?”
Ninus smiled.
“You haven’t seen him for ten days,” she murmured. “And you think that he has forgotten you?”
“Dear Ninus!” cried the girl, pressing her hand upon her bosom. “He is my hope, my only hope. Your spells will not harm him?”
There was such tender anxiety in the question, that Hipyllos felt an almost unconquerable desire to spring forward and clasp the young girl in his arms.
“No,” replied Ninus. “These spells will do no harm. But, since I fulfil your wishes in this, give me the ring you showed me just now.”
Clytie hastened to comply with the demand.
Ninus then drew out an article wrapped in a cloth. “This is one of his sandals,” she whispered. Scattering sulphur on the charcoal she held the sandal in the smoke, then flung salt into the flame, saying in a slow, solemn tone:
“Hi-pyl-los, Cly-ti-e!”
The young man felt a shiver run through his limbs at hearing his name so suddenly.
Ninus glanced around. This was the moment when the person summoned, drawn by an invincible power, ought to appear and fall at his loved one’s feet.
The priestess shrugged her shoulders.
“Hm!” she muttered, as though baffled. “Your fear was not groundless, pretty maid. Take this vessel I use in pouring libations and wrap the purple wool around it, put these laurel branches on the flames, hold the wax near them, and set the dish beneath.”
At the same time Ninus raised aloft a tri-colored wax image and flung fragrant boughs upon the fire before it.
“Hear me, most terrible of goddesses, mysterious Hecate!” she cried, “mercifully aid us and make our spells more powerful than those of Medea and Circe. Let his blood burn as these laurel leaves are consumed in the flame, and his heart bleed and melt with tenderness for this maiden as this wax melts from the heat.”
Ninus started and listened.
The baying of a dog was heard in the stillness of the night.
“Hush!” she muttered. “I hear dogs barking. Hecate is near—in the cross-road yonder, where her altar stands. Strike these metal basins against each other—let the sound tell her that we feel her approach. Oh, Hecate, stern, exalted goddess, I will pour three libations in thy honor! Thrice accursed be each new fancy of the man this maiden loves. Let him instantly desert her rivals, as Theseus deserted the hapless Ariadne.”
Then, seizing the wheel, she set it in motion.
“Let his footsteps circle around this maiden’s dwelling, as this wheel turns on its axle. Direct his steps hither, lofty goddess,” continued Ninus, throwing a powder upon the charcoal. “Appear, oh Hipyllos, appear!” she called loudly. A clear yellow flame shot high into the air and vanished with a faint crackling sound, like a flash of lightning.
By the glow the young girl had seen Hipyllos’ face appear and disappear like a vision in a dream—a wall seemed to open and close over it. Terror and surprise made her utter a piercing shriek. Ninus fancied herself watched and blew out the light.
While Hipyllos, dazzled by the blaze, was groping his way around the corner of the wall he heard the dry twigs snapping under hurried footsteps. It was the two women, who were stealing away through the other end of the long arbor. He wanted to follow them, but ran into the arms of the armorer’s slave who was looking for him to say that his master had come. Almost at the same moment the door of Xenocles’ house closed with a bang, rendering farther pursuit useless.
He followed the slave into the shop. Sauros deserved credit for his work; the cuirass fitted admirably. But Hipyllos did not hear the smith’s long explanations; his sole desire was to be alone with his thoughts. So, when the fitting was over, he hastily took his leave, called his slave, told him to light a torch and set out on his homeward way. His disappointment at pretty Clytie’s escape had already vanished; nay even his anxiety about the trouble threatening her was forced to yield to the blissful thought of being beloved by the fairest maiden in Athens. He knew that now from her own lips—for it did not occur to him to doubt that the muffled figure was Clytie herself.