She recalled the day, fifteen years before, when she had entered the Temple of the Goddess, a child of twelve and, stripping herself of her robes before the statue of the Aphrodite, had offered her childish body for the service of the goddess and the labors of love. She was surrounded by beautiful courtesans in costumes of bright colors; the perfume of incense rose about her in clouds through which murmured soft words of devotion and the voices of harps and reeds. She remembered, too, her surprise and delight, the heap of offerings—doves, cakes of honey, veils, jewels—she had seen lying at the feet of the goddess, placed there, one by one, by the suppliants upon that day of festival. And she remembered the old, gentle-eyed priest who had placed his arm about her and led her away.
Nor had she forgotten her first love . . .
