"At this I began to arch my eyebrows: I put on a consequential air, and proudly paced the room. 'No marvel,' said I, 'that she has not been able to resist even the first application of my spells, and yet I have hitherto employed only some of the weakest of them. But how came you acquainted with what you are rejoicing at?' 'According to your advice,' said he, 'I sent for some physicians of whom I had a high opinion. I took them to visit my daughter, promising them large fees if they could afford her any relief. As soon as they entered her apartment they inquired into the cause of her complaint. She turned from them, made no reply to their inquiries, and kept repeating a verse from Homer,[5] the sense of which is,—
"Achilles, Peleus' son, thou flower of Greeks."
At length the sagacious Acestinus (perhaps you know him) seized her unwilling hand, hoping to discover by her pulse the movements of her heart. He felt it, and, after some consideration, said, "Ο Charicles, it is in vain you call upon us for assistance; the leech's art can here be of no use." "My God," cried I, "what is it you say? My daughter is dying, and you give me no hope." "Compose yourself," he replied, "and attend to me;" and taking me aside he thus addressed me:—-
"'"Our art professes to heal only the disorders of the body, not those of the mind, except only when the mind suffers with the afflicted body; when one is cured the other is relieved. Your daughter certainly labours under a malady, but it is not a corporeal one. She has no redundant humours, no head-ache, no fever, no distemper which has its origin in the body—this I can venture to pronounce." I besought him, if he knew what really ailed her, that he would tell me. At last he said, "Does she not know herself that the malady is a mental one—that it is, in one word, love? Do you not see how her swelled eyes, her unsettled look, her pale countenance, betray the wounded heart? Her thoughts wander, her discourse is unconnected, she gets no sleep, and visibly falls away; some relief must be sought for, but he alone for whom she pines can, I think, afford it." Having so said, he took his leave. I hastened to you, as to a god and preserver, who alone have it in your power, as both I and my daughter acknowledge, to do us good. For when I was pressing her, in the most affectionate manner, to discover to me the cause of her complaint, she answered that she knew not what was the matter with her; this only she knew, that Calasiris alone could heal her, and besought me to call you to her; from which I perceive that she has the greatest opinion of, and confidence in, your wisdom.'
"'Since you have found out that she is in love,' I replied, 'can you conjecture with whom?' 'No, by Apollo,' said he; 'how should I discover that? I wish with all my heart it may be with Alcamenes, my sister's son. I have long destined him for her spouse, if my wishes can have weight with her.' I told him it was easy to make the experiment, by bringing the young man into her presence. He seemed to approve of this and went away.
"Soon after I met him in the market-place. 'I have very disagreeable news,' said he, 'my daughter is certainly possessed, she behaves in so strange a manner. I introduced Alcamenes to her, as you desired; and he had taken care about his personal appearance, but she, as if she had seen the Gorgon's head, or anything more frightful, gave a piercing shriek, turned her face aside, and, grasping her neck with both her hands, protested that she would strangle herself, if we did not instantly leave the room. This, you may imagine, we hastened to do upon seeing such monstrously strange conduct. And we again entreat you to save her life, and to fulfil, if possible, our wishes.'
"'O Charicles,' I replied, 'you were not mistaken in saying your daughter was possessed. She is, indeed, beset by those powers which I was obliged to employ against her. They are very potent, and are compelling her to that from which her nature and constitution is averse. But it seems to me that some opposing deity counteracts my measures, and is fighting against my ministers; wherefore it is necessary that I should see the fillet which you told me was exposed with your daughter, and which you had preserved with the other tokens: I fear it may contain some witcheries and magic which work upon her mind, the contrivance of an enemy, who wishes her to continue all her life single, childless, and averse to love.' Charicles assented to what Ϊ said, and presently brought me the fillet. I begged and obtained time to consider it. I took it eagerly with me to my apartment, and began immediately to read what was written on it. The characters were Ethiopian;[6] not the common ones, but such as those of royal birth make use of, which are the same as the sacred writings of the Egyptians; and this was the tenor of the inscription:—
"'Persina, Queen of Ethiopia, inscribes this, her lament, as a last gift to an unfortunate daughter, who has not yet obtained a name, and is known to her only by the pangs she cost.'
"I shuddered, Cnemon, when I read the name of Persina; however, I read on as follows:—-
"'I call the Sun to witness, the author of my race, that I do not expose you, my child, and withdraw you from the sight of your father Hydaspes, on account of any crime of mine. Yet I would willingly excuse myself to you, if you should happen to survive, and to him who shall take you up, if propitious providence vouchsafes to send you a preserver, and relate to the world the cause of my exposing you.
"'Of the gods we count the Sun and Bacchus among our ancestors; of the heroes, Perseus, Andromeda, and Memnon. Our kings, at various times, have adorned the royal apartments with pictures of them and their exploits; some ornamented the porticoes and men's apartments: our bed-chamber was painted with the story of Perseus and Andromeda. There, in the tenth year after our marriage, when as yet we had no child, I retired to repose myself during the scorching heat of noon; and here your father, Hydaspes, visited me, being warned to do so by a dream. In consequence of this visit I became pregnant. The whole time of my pregnancy was a continual feast, a course of sacrifices and thanksgivings to the gods, for the near prospect, long wished for, of a successor to the kingdom.[7] But when at last I brought you forth, a white infant, so different from the Ethiopian hue, I was at no loss to explain the cause, since, in the embraces of your father,[8] I had kept my eyes fixed on the picture of Andromeda, whom the painter had represented just unchained from the rock, and my imagination had communicated her complexion to my unhappy offspring. But this, though satisfactory to me, might not have been so to any one else. I dreaded the being accused of adultery, and the punishment which awaits that crime: I committed you, therefore, to the wide world and to fortune. I thought this better even for you than death, or the disgrace of being called a bastard, one of which fates must have awaited you had I preserved you at home. I told my husband that my child was dead, and exposed you privately, placing as many valuables with you as I could collect, by way of reward for whoever should find and bring you up. Among other ornaments I put this fillet upon you, stained with my own blood and containing this melancholy account, which I have traced out in the midst of tears and sorrows, when I first brought you into the world, and was overwhelmed with grief and consternation. And, oh my sweet, yet soon lost daughter, if you should survive, remember the noble race from which you spring; honour and cultivate virtue and modesty, the chief recommendations of a woman, and ornaments of a queen. But, among the jewels which are exposed with you, remember to inquire after, and claim for yourself a ring which your father gave me when he sought me in marriage. The circle of it is inscribed with royal characters, and in its bezil[9] the stone Pantarbè, which possesses occult and powerful virtue. I have given you this account in writing, since cruel fortune denies me the happiness of doing it in person; my pains may have been taken to no purpose, but they may be of use to you; the designs of fate are inscrutable by mortals. These words (oh vainly beautiful, and bringing, by your beauty, an imputation on her who bore you), if you should be preserved, may serve as a token to discover your race; if otherwise (which may I never hear!) they will be the funeral lament of an afflicted mother.'