annr.pandora-第26部分

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n't　the　full　paint　of　the　Priestess；　but　my　eyes　were　rimmed　with　black。
　〃How　dare　I　plain？〃　I　whispered。
　I　put　down　the　mirror。　One　doesn't　have　to　see　oneself；　fortunately。
　I　emerged　into　the　great　hall　of　the　Temple；　a　proper　Roman　woman；　with　the　extravagant　face　paint　of　the　East。　A　mon　sight　in　Antioch。
　I　found　the　Priestess　with　two　others；　as　formally　dressed　as　she；　and　a　Priest　who　wore　the　same　oldfashioned　Egyptian　headdress；　only　he　wore　no　wig；　just　a　striped　hood。　His　tunic　was　short；　pleated。　He　turned　and　glared　at　me　as　I　came　forward。
　Fear。　Crushing　fear。　Flee　this　place！　Forget　about　the　offering；　or　have　them　make　it　for　you。　Go　home。　Flavius　is　waiting。　Get　out！
　I　was　struck　dumb。　I　let　the　Priest　draw　me　aside。
　〃Pay　attention；〃　he　said　to　me　gently。　〃I　will　take　you　now　into　the　holy　place。　I　will　let　you　talk　to　the　Mother。　But　when　you　e　out；　you　must　e　to　me！　Don't　leave　without　ing　to　me。　You　must　promise　me；　you　will　return　each　day；　and　if　you　have　more　of　these　dreams；　you　will　lay　them　before　us。　There　is　one　to　whom　they　should　be　told；　that　is；　unless　the　goddess　drives　them　from　your　mind。〃
　〃Of　course　I　will　tell　anyone　who　can　help；〃　I　said。　〃I　hate　these　dreams。　But　why　are　you　so　anxious？　Are　you　afraid　of　me？〃
　He　shook　his　head。　〃I　don't　fear　you；　but　there　is　something　I　must　confide　to　you。　I　must　talk　to　you　either　today　or　tomorrow；　I　must　speak　with　you。　Go　now　to　the　Mother；　then　e　to　me。〃
　The　others　led　me　to　the　chamber　of　the　Sanctuary；　there　were　white　linen　curtains　before　the　shrine。　I　saw　my　sacrifice　lying　there；　a　great　garland　of　sweet…smelling　white　flowers；　and　the　warm　loaf　of　bread。　I　knelt。　The　curtains　were　pulled　back　by　unseen　hands　and　I　found　myself　alone　in　the　chamber　kneeling　before　the　Regina　Caeli；　the　Queen　of　Heaven。
　Another　shock。
　This　was　an　ancient　Egyptian　statue　of　our　Isis；　carved　from　dark　basalt。　Her　headdress　was　long；　narrow；　pushed　behind　her　ears。　On　her　head　she　wore　a　great　disk　between　horns。　Her　breasts　were　bare。　On　her　lap　sat　the　adult　Pharaoh；　her　son　Horus。　She　held　her　left　breast　to　offer　him　her　milk。
　I　was　struck　with　despair！　This　image　meant　nothing　to　me！　I　groped　for　the　essence　of　Isis　in　this　image。
　〃Did　you　send　me　the　dreams；　Mother！〃　I　whispered。
　I　laid　out　the　flowers。　I　broke　the　bread。
　I　heard　nothing　in　the　silence　from　the　serene　and　ancient　statue。
　I　prostrated　myself　on　the　floor；　stretching　out　my　arms。　And　from　the　depths　of　my　soul；　I　struggled　to　say；　I　accept；　I　believe；　I　am　yours；　I　need　you；　I　need　you！
　But　I　wept。　All　was　lost　to　me。　Not　merely　Rome　and　my　family；　but　even　my　Isis。　This　goddess　was　the　embodiment　of　the　faith　of　another　nation；　another　people。
　Very　slowly　a　calm　settled　over　me。
　Is　it　so；　I　thought。　The　Cult　of　my　Mother　is　in　all　places；　North　and　South　and　East　and　West。　It　is　the　spirit　of　this　Cult　which　gives　it　power。　I　need　not　literally　kiss　the　feet　of　this　effigy。　That　is　not　the　point。
　I　raised　my　head　slowly；　then　sat　back　on　my　heels。　A　real　revelation　came　upon　me。　I　cannot　fully　record　it。　I　knew　it；　fully；　in　an　instant。
　I　knew　that　all　things　were　symbols　of　other　things！　I　knew　that　all　rituals　were　enactments　of　other　happenings！　I　knew　that　out　of　our　practical　human　minds　we　devised　these　things　with　an　immensity　of　soul　that　would　not　allow　the　world　to　be　devoid　of　meaning。
　And　this　statue　represented　love。　Love　above　cruelty。　Love　above　injustice。　Love　above　loneliness　and　condemnation。
　That　was　what　mattered；　that　single　thing。　I　stared　up　at　the　face　of　the　goddess　and　I　knew　her！　I　stared　at　the　little　Pharaoh；　the　proffered　breast。
　〃I　am　yours！〃　I　said　coldly。
　Her　stark　primitive　Egyptian　features　were　no　obstade　to　my　heart；　I　looked　at　the　right　hand　which　held　her　breast。
　Love。　This　requires　strength　from　us；　this　requires　endurance；　this　requires　an　acceptance　of　all　that　is　unknown。
　〃Take　the　dreams　away　from　me；　Heavenly　Mother；〃　I　said。　〃Or　reveal　their　purpose。　And　the　path　I　must　follow。　Please。〃
　Then　in　Latin　I　said　an　old　litany：
　
　You　are　she　who　has　separated　the　Heavens　and　the　Earth。
　You　are　she　who　rises　in　the　Dog　Star。
　You　are　she　who　makes　strong　the　right。
　You。　are　she　who　makes　the　children　to　love　their　parents。
　You　are　she　who　decreed　mercy　for　all　who　ask　for　it。
　
　I　believed　these　words；　but　in　a　wholly　profane　way。　I　believed　them　because　I　saw　her　worship　as　having　collected　together　from　the　minds　of　men　and　women　the　best　ideas　of　which　men　and　women　were　capable。　That　was　the　function　for　which　a　goddess　existed；　that　was　the　spirit　from　which　she　drew　her　vitality。
　The　lost　phallus　of　Osiris　exists　in　the　Nile。　And　the　Nile　inseminates　the　fields。　Oh；　it　was　so　lovely。
　The　trick　was　not　to　reject　it；　as　Lucretius　might　have　suggested；　but　to　realize　what　her　image　meant。　To　extract　from　that　image　the　best　in　my　own　soul。
　And　when　I　looked　down　at　the　beautiful　white　flowers；　I　thought；　〃It　is　your　wisdom；　Mother；　that　these　bloom。〃　And　I　meant　by　that　only　that　the　world　itself　was　filled　with　so　much　to　be　cherished；　preserved；　honored；　that　pleasure　itself　was　resplendent　…　and　she；　Isis；　embodied　these　concepts　that　were　too　deep　to　be　called　ideas。
　I　loved　her　…　this　expression　of　goodness　which　was　Isis。
　The　longer　I　looked　at　her　stone　face；　the　more　it　seemed　she　saw　me。　An　old　trick。　The　more　I　knelt　there；　the　more　it　seemed　she　spoke　to　me。　I　allowed　this　to　happen；　fully　aware　that　it　meant　nothing。　The　dreams　were　remote。　They　seemed　a　puzzle　which　would　find　its　idiot　resolution。
　Then　with　true　fervor；　I　crawled　towards　her　and　kissed　her　feet。
　My　worship　was　over。
　I　went　out　refreshed；　jubilant。
　I　wasn't　going　to　have　those　dreams　anymore。　There　was　still　daylight。　I　was　happy。
　I　found　many　friends　in　the　courtyard　of　the　Temple；　and　sitting　down　with　them　under　the　olive　trees；　I　drew　out　of　them　all　the　information　I　needed　for　practical　life；　how　to　get　caterers；　hairdressers；　all　that。　Where　to　buy　this　thing　and　the　other。
　In　other　words；　I　was　armed　by　my　rich　friends　with　full　equipment　to　run　a　fine　house　without　actually　cluttering　it　up　with　slaves　I　didn't　want。　I　could　stick　with　Flavius　and　the　two　girls。　Excellent。　Anything　else　could　be　hired　or　bought。
　Finally；　very　tired；　with　my　head　full　of　names　to　remember　and　directions　to　recall；　and　very　amused　with　the　jokes　and　stories　of　these　women；　delighted　by　their　ease　in　speaking　Greek　…　which　I　had　always　loved　…　I　sat　back　and　thought；　I　can　go　home　now。
　I　can　begin。
　The　Temple　was　still　very　busy。　I　looked　at　the　doors。　Where　was　the　Priest'？　Well；　I　would　e　back　tomorrow。　I　didn't　want　to　revive　those　dreams　now；　that　was　certain。　Many　people　were　ing　and　going　with　flowers　and　bread　and　some　with　birds　to　be　set　free　for　the　goddess；　birds　that　would　take　wing　out　of　the　high　window　of　her　Sanctuary。
　How　warm　it　was　here。　What　a　blaze　of　flowers　covered　the　wall！　I　had　never　thought　there　could　be　a　place　as　beautiful　as　Tuscany；　but　maybe　this　place　was　beautiful　too。
　I　went　out　of　the　courtyard；　before　the　steps；　and　into　the　Forum。
　I　approached　a　man　under　the　arches　who　was　teaching　a　group　of　young　boys　all　of　what　Diogenes　has　espoused；　that　we　give　up　the　flesh　and　all　its　pleasures；　that　we　live　pure　lives　in　denial　of　the　senses。
　It　was　so　much　as　Flavius　had　described　it。　But　the　man　meant　his　words；　and　was　well　versed。　He　spoke　of　a　liberating　resignation。　He　caught　my　fancy。　For　this　is　what　I　thought　had　e　to　me　in　the　Temple；　a　liberating　resignation。
　The　boys　who　listened　were　too　young　to　know　this。　But　I　knew　it。　I　liked　him。　He　had　gray　hair　and　wore　a　simple　long　tunic。　He　was　not　ostentatiously　in　rags。
　I　at　once　interrupted。　With　a　humble　smile　I　offered　the　counsel　of　Epicurus；　that　the　senses　wouldn't　have　been　given　us　were　they　not　good。　Wasn't　this　so'？　〃Must　we　deny　ourselves？　Look；　back　at　the　courtyard　of　the　Temple　of　Isis；　look　at　the　flowers　covering　the　top　of　the　wall！　Is　this　not　something　to　savor？　Look　at　the　roaring　red　of　those　flowers！　Those　flowers