"Stupid!"
"Yes, sweetheart—can't you see? I'm only a child! And it's so strange! It frightens me! Try to realize how I feel!"
"But what am I to do?"
"Do? Why you must make me, Thyrsis!" And as she said this she hid her face upon his shoulder and sobbed. "You are a man, Thyrsis, you are a man, and I am only a girl! Do what you want to! Don't pay any attention to me!"
And those words to Thyrsis were like the crashing of a peal of thunder. He clutched her to him, with a force that crushed her, that made her cry out. The soul of the cave-man awoke in him—he lifted his mate in his arms and bore her away to a secret place.
"Put down the light," she whispered, and he did this. And then again he began to unfasten her dress.
She submitted at first, she let him have his way. But later, when his hands touched the soft garment on her bosom, he felt a sharp tremor pass through her. "Thyrsis!" she whispered. "What is it?" he asked. "Wait dear, wait!" "Why wait ?" he cried.
"Just a moment—please, dear!"
But he answered her—"No ! Not a moment! No !"
She clung to him, trembling, pleading. "Please, dearest, please! I'm afraid, Thyrsis."
But nothing could stop him now. She was his—his to do what he pleased with! And he would bend her to his will! The voice of his manhood shouted aloud to him now, and it was like the clashing of wild cymbals in his soul.
He went on with what he was doing. She shrunk away from him, but he followed her, he held her fast.
Then she began to sob—"Oh Thyrsis, wait—spare me! I can't bear it! No, Thyrsis—no!"
But he answered her, "Be still! I love you! You are mine." And for every sob and every shudder and every moan of fear he had but one response—"I love you! You are mine!"
He knew that he loved her now—and he knew what his love meant. Before this they had been strangers; but now he would penetrate to the secret places, to the holy of holies of her being.
Never in all his life had Thyrsis known woman. To him woman had been the supreme mystery of life, a creature of awe and sacredness—not to be handled, scarcely even to be thought about. Now the awful ban was lifted, the barriers were down; what had been hidden was revealed, what had been forbidden was permitted. So all the chained desire of a lifetime drove him on; it was almost more than he could bear. The touch of her warm breasts, the faint perfume of her clothing, the pressure of her soft, white limbs—these things set every nerve of him a-tremble, they turned a madness loose in him. A blinding whirl of emotion seized him, he was like a leaf swept away in a gale;
his words came now in wild sobs, "I love you! I love you!"
So with quivering fingers he stripped her before him; and she crouched there, cowering and weeping. He took her in his arms; and that clasp there was no misunderstanding, for all the mastery of his will was in it. Nor did she try to resist him—she lay still, but shaking like a leaf, and choking with sobs. And so it was that he wreaked his will upon her.
§ 10. AND then came the reaction—the most awful experience of his life. Thyrsis was sitting upon the bed, and staring in front of him, dazed. He was exhausted, faint, shuddering with horror. "Oh, my God, my God!" he whispered.
What had he done? Corydon, the gentle and pure —she had trusted herself to him, and how had he treated her? He had tortured her, he had defiled her! Oh, it was sickening; brutal, like a butchery! He sunk down in a heap, moaning, "My God! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!"
And then a strange thing happened—the strangest of all strange things! An unforeseeable, an unimaginable thing!
Corydon had started up, and was listening; and now suddenly he felt her arms stealing about him. "Thyrsis!" she whispered. "Thyrsis!"
"Oh, what shall I do ?" he sobbed.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, it was so horrible! horrible!"
"Thyrsis!" she panted, swiftly. "Don't say that!"
"How could I have done it?" he rushed on. "What a monster I am!"
"No! no!" she cried. "You don't understand,
Thyrsis! I love you! Don't you know that I love you?"
And she tightened her clasp about him, she stole into his arms again. "Forgive me!" she whispered. "Please, please—forgive me, Thyrsis !"
He stared at her, dazed. "Forgive ?/o«>?"
"I had no right to behave like that!" she cried. "I was afraid—I couldn't control myself. But oh, Thyrsis, I love you!"
And she pressed herself upon him convulsively; she was troubled no longer. "Yes!" she panted. "Yes! I don't mind it any more! I am yours! I am yours! You may do whatever you please to me, Thyrsis—I love you!"
She covered him with kisses—his face, his neck, his body. She drew him down to her again, whispering in ecstasy, "My husband!"
He was lost in amazement. Could this be Corydon, the gentle and shrinking? No, she was gone; and in her stead this creature of desire—tumultuous and abandoned! She was like some passion-goddess out of the East, shameless and terrible and destroying! She was like a tigress of the jungle, calling in the night for its mate. She locked him fast in her arms—she was swept away in a whirlwind of emotion, as he had been swept before. And all her being rose up in one song of exultation—"Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!"
"Ah, Thyrsis !" she cried. "My Thyrsis ! I belong to you now! You can never escape me now! You can never leave me—my love, my love!"
And as Thyrsis listened to this song, his passion died. Reason awoke again, and a cold fear struck into his heart! What was the meaning of this?
Long hours afterward, as she lay, half-asleep, in his arms, she felt him give a sudden start and shudder.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said—"I just happened to think of something. Something that frightened me."
"What was it?"
"I was thinking, dear— suppose I should become domestic!"
BOOK VI THE CORDS ARE TIGHTENED
She had been reading in the little cabin, and a hush had fallen upon them.
Yes, thou art gone! And round me too the night In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade."
"Gone!" she said, and smiled sadly. 'Where is he gone?"
And she turned the page and read again—
"But Thyrsis -nevermore we swains shall see; See him come back, and cut a smoother reed, And blow a strain the world at last shall heed —
For Time, not Corydon, hath conquered theei"
Then, after a pause, she added, "How often I have remembered those words! And how pitiful they are, when I remember them!"
§ 1. IT was a tiny cupboard of a room in a tenement. They sat upon their bed to eat, and they hid their soiled dishes beneath it. Dirty children screamed upon the avenue in front, and frowsy-headed women and wolfish men caroused in the saloon below. Yet here there came to them the angel with the flame-tipped wings, and here they dreamed their dream of wonder.
In the glory of their new-found passion all life became transfigured to them; they discovered new meaning in the most trivial actions. There was no corner so obscure that they might not come upon the young god hidden; they might touch his warm, tender flesh, and hear his silvery laughter, and thrill with the wonder of his presence. They spoke a new language, full of fire and color; they read new meanings in each other's eyes. The slightest touch of hand upon hand, or of lips to lips, was enough to dissolve them in tenderness and delight.
They rejoiced in the marvel of each other's being— in the glory of their bodies, newly revealed. To Thyrsis especially this was life's last miracle, a discovery so fraught with bliss as to be a continual torment. The incitements that were hidden in the softness and the odor of unbound and tumbled hair; the exquisiteness of maiden breasts, moulded of marble., rosy-tipped; the soft contour of snowy limbs, the rhythmic play of moving muscles—to dwell amid these things, to possess them, was suddenly to discover in reality what before had only existed in the realm of painting and sculpture.