Another said—
“Upon thy altar, Paphia, Calliston places sixty drachmas of silver, the balance of a gift she has received from Cleomenes. Give her a still more generous lover, if the offering seems to thee acceptable.”
The only one left in front of the idol was a blushing child who had taken the last place. She held in her hand nothing but a tiny garland of flowers, and the priest treated her with contempt because of the smallness of her offering.
She said—
“I am not rich enough to give thee pieces of gold, great Goddess. Besides, what could I give thee which thou dost not already possess. Here are green and yellow flowers woven as a garland for thy feet.”
The procession seemed to be at an end and the other courtesans were about to retrace their steps when a woman was seen standing at the door.
She had nothing in her hand and seemed to have come to offer her beauty to the Goddess. Her hair was like two waves of gold, two deep billows full of shadow engulfing the ears and twisted in seven turns at the throat. Her nose was fine, with expressive and palpitating nostrils, and beneath it was a full and coral coloured mouth with rounded mobile corners to it. The supple lines of the body undulated at each step she took.
Her eyes were wonderful; they were blue but dark and gleaming as well, and changed like moonstones, as she held them half closed beneath her long lashes. The glances of those eyes were like the sirens’ songs.
The priest turned towards her and waited for her to speak.
She said—