Side by side upon the grassy plot we lay, exchanging a thousand kisses,
the prelude to more poignant pleasure, (but alas! My sudden loss of
vigor disappointed Circe!)




CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT.

(Infuriated at this affront,) "What's the matter," demanded she; "do my
kisses offend you? Is my breath fetid from fasting? Is there any evil
smelling perspiration in my armpits? Or, if it's nothing of this kind,
are you afraid of Giton?" Under her eyes, I flushed hotly and, if I had
any virility left, I lost it then; my whole body seemed to be inert. "My
queen," I cried, "do not mock me in my humiliation. I am bewitched!"
(Circe's anger was far from being appeased by such a trivial excuse;
turning her eyes contemptuously away from me, she looked at her maid,)
"Tell me, Chrysis, and tell me truly, is there anything repulsive about
me? Anything sluttish? Have I some natural blemish that disfigures my
beauty? Don't deceive your mistress! I don't know what's the matter
with us, but there must be something!" Then she snatched a mirror from
the silent maid and after scrutinizing all the looks and smiles which
pass between lovers, she shook out her wrinkled earth-stained robe and
flounced off into the temple of Venus (nearby.) And here was I, like a
convicted criminal who had seen some horrible nightmare, asking myself
whether the pleasure out of which I had been cheated was a reality or
only a dream.

As when, in the sleep-bringing night
Dreams sport with the wandering eyes,