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Gorgo gave her a second and a third draught which Damia drank with equal eagerness; then, with a deep breath, she looked up fully conscious, at her granddaughter. "Thank you, child," she said. "Now I shall do very well for a little while. The material world and all that belongs to it weighs us down and clings to us like iron fetters.
The steward led the van with Herse, talking freely in reply to her enquiries. His master, he said, was one of the great merchants of the city, whose wife had died twenty years since in giving birth to Gorgo. His two sons were at present absent on their travels. The old lady who had been so liberal in her treatment of the singers was Damia, the mother of Porphyrius.
"Christian scruples," said the merchant, and Damia added: "Let Eros touch her that will loosen her tongue." "Eros, always Eros!" repeated Gorgo shrugging her shoulders. "Nay, love means suffering those who love drag a chain with them. To do the best of which he is capable man needs only to be free, true, and in health." "That is a great deal, fair mistress," replied Karnis eagerly.
Damia was furious as she heard it, and trembled with rage as she railed at the wild hordes who disgraced and desecrated Alexandria, the sacred home of the Muses; then she began to speak once more of the young captain, Mary's son, to whom the troupe of singers owed their lives. "Marcus," said she, "is said to be a paragon of chastity.
You I shall never remember your name if I live to be as old as Damia...." "Sachepris, Sachepris is my name," said the woman, "but call me anything else you like. The lover I mean is the son of the rich Christian, Mary. A handsome man, my lord Marcus; and he has horses, such fine horses, and more gold pieces than the pebbles on the shore there.
The venerable Damia, her son Porphyrius, and the fair Gorgo were in fact a trio such as are rarely met with.
She felt shy and strange as she made her low courtesy to the old lady; but Damia seemed to be pleased with the timid grace of her demeanor, for she offered her her hand an honor she usually conferred only on her intimates, bid her stoop, and gave her a kiss, saying kindly: "You are a good brave girl.
Dada looked up at the old lady with puzzled eyes; Damia bent her head close to the girl's, and whispered, softly but vehemently in her ear: "Only turn that milksop's head, make him so madly and desperately in love with you that he does not know which way to turn for delicious torment.
Damia was surely a Bona Dea, yes she was the Bona Dea, for was not the proof at hand in the fact that men were excluded from both cults?
She felt shy and strange as she made her low courtesy to the old lady; but Damia seemed to be pleased with the timid grace of her demeanor, for she offered her her hand an honor she usually conferred only on her intimates, bid her stoop, and gave her a kiss, saying kindly: "You are a good brave girl.
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