She trembled now, against the warm earth, as this returned to her memory.
Her breasts had become rounded and firm, her eyes clear, her lips full and red, tremulous with the eagerness of youth. Each day she was filled with an intoxicating presage, half daring, half fearful; until at last overwhelming desire, the call of the goddess, had seized her. That day, she had told of her desire; and her life as a devotee of the Immortal had begun.
The man she had chosen (or who had chosen her; she had never quite known which) was a Greek, tall, clean-limbed, soft and beautiful as a god. His ardent gaze had pierced her like an arrow and she had quivered in terror beneath the caress of his hands . . . The goddess had given her a little white house; and there, for two whole days, they had shut out the world, eating fruits and cakes of honey, drinking soft wines, playing and laughing
