Clasping it closely to her.
I am the changeless mother of this race,
And this a younger seed. By the opened womb
I have decided being: and I decide.
Much Asia has been spanned to leave it here,
More Asia will be narrowed by her searchers;
Mysta might die next time. It must die.
I reached my hand and took it to make sure
My order and number of children still were true.
I have looked on it—its purport is completed.
Mysta.
It could be hid for ever: let it live.
Laodice.
Mysta shall need my ritual bath and wardrobe;
Serve me by delicate sleep. Mysta must go.
She kisses Mysta and leads her to the portal. Mysta goes out passively.
Laodice.
Danaë, pile me cushions and hollow them—
There in the shadowed seat beyond the breeze.
No; larger cushions with no rough gold in stitchings.
One softer for his head—now hold it there
Till I can kneel and lay him in the dimmest,
For he may sleep a little yet. Ay, so....
I had well-nigh forgotten to appoint
Sophron a chamber.
Danaë. Madam, I will go.
Laodice.
You speak too loudly. Madam, you will remain:
I need you to cast gums upon the censer
To make me drowsy—I must sleep some moments.
Danaë.
Storax alone, or juniper?
Laodice. O, storax.
Danaë goes to a recess in the wall near the portal, and takes out a painted bowl. She pours grains from it slowly upon the brazier; brief cloudy flames illumine her face.
Did the Silk-People shape that bowl?
Danaë. Maybe....
I could burn up the world like this to-night,
To make an end of conflicts and of burdens.
As Laodice claps her hands Barsine hurries in breathlessly.
Barsine.
Queen, Queen....
Laodice, watching Danaë.
Make ready fragrantly and freshly
Chamber for Sophron next to that of Smerdis.
Then send Smerdis with knives and drugs to me.
Danaë opens her mouth as if to speak—the flames fall as she holds the bowl poised motionlessly.