Clairmont was the only person privileged to see us at dinner, at which Semiramis would only eat fish. At half-past one I told Clairmont I was not at home to anyone, and giving him a louis I told him to go and amuse himself till the evening.
The marchioness began to be uneasy, and I pretended to be so, too. I looked at my watch, calculated how the planetary hours were proceeding, and said from time to time,—
“We are still in the hour of Mars, that of the sun has not yet commenced.”
At last the time-piece struck half-past two, and in two minutes afterwards the fair and smiling Undine was seen advancing into the room. She came along with measured steps, and knelt before Madame d’Urfe, and gave her the paper she carried. Seeing that I did not rise, the marchioness remained seated, but she raised the spirit with a gracious air and took the paper from her. She was surprised, however, to find that it was all white.
I hastened to give her a pen to consult the oracle on the subject, and after I had made a pyramid of her question, she interpreted it and found the answer:
“That which is written in water must be read in water.”
“I understand now,” said she, and going to the bath she plunged the paper into it, and then read in still whiter letters: “I am dumb, but not deaf. I am come from the Rhone to bathe you. The hour of Oromasis has begun.”
“Then bathe me, divine being,” said Semiramis, putting down the paper and sitting on the bed.
With perfect exactitude Marcoline undressed the marchioness, and delicately placed her feet in the water, and then, in a twinkling she had undressed herself, and was in the bath, beside Madame d’Urfe. What a contrast there was between the two bodies; but the sight of the one kindled the flame which the other was to quench.
As I gazed on the beautiful girl, I, too, undressed, and when I was ready to take off my shirt I spoke as follows: “O divine being, wipe the feet of Semiramis, and be the witness of my union with her, to the glory of the immortal Horomadis, King of the Salamanders.”