Demetrios looked at her with a frenzied eye.
She continued tenderly:
“What! You will not give me a poor old silver mirror when you may have all my hair like a golden forest in your hands?”
Demetrios tried to touch it . . . She recoiled and said:
“To-morrow!”
“You shall have it,” he murmured.
“And you will not take for me a little ivory comb which pleases me, when you can have my two arms like two branches of ivory around your neck?”
He tried to stroke them. She drew them behind her back and repeated: “To-morrow!”
“I will bring it,” he said very low. “Ah! I knew it!” cried the courtesan; “and you will also give me the seven-stringed necklace of pearls on the neck of Aphrodite, and for that I will sell you all my body, which is like a half-opened shell of mother-of-pearl, and more kisses in your mouth than there are pearls in the sea!”
