“Take me, my father, to the house of Albina.”

His heart filled with joy, Paphnutius gazed around him, and tasted, almost without fear, the pleasure of contemplating the works of creation; his eyes drank in with joy God’s light, and unknown breezes fanned his cheeks.  Suddenly, seeing at one of the corners of the public square the little door which led to Thais’ house, and remembering that the trees, whose foliage he had been admiring, shaded the courtesan’s garden, he thought of all the impurities which there sullied the air, to-day so light and pure, and his soul was so grieved that bitter tears sprang to his eyes.

“Thais,” he said, “we must fly without looking back.  But we must not leave behind us the instruments, the witnesses, the accomplices of thy past crimes; those heavy hangings, those beds, carpets, perfume censers and lamps, which would proclaim thy infamy!  Dost thou wish that, animated by the demons, and carried by the evil spirit that is in them, those accursed belongings should pursue thee even to the desert?  It is but too true that there are tables which bring ruin, seats which serve as the instruments of devils, which act, speak, strike the ground, and pass through the air.  Let all perish which has seen thy shame!  Hasten, Thais, and, whilst the city is yet asleep, order thy slaves to make, in the centre of this place, a pile, upon which we will burn all the abominable riches thy dwelling contains.”

Thais consented.

“Do as you will, my father,” she said.  “I know that spirits often dwell in inanimate objects.  At night some articles of furniture talk, either by giving knocks at regular intervals or by emitting little flashes of light as signals.  And even more.  Have you remarked, my father, at the entrance to the Grotto of Nymphs, on the right, a statue of a naked woman about to bathe?  One day I saw, with my own eyes, that statue turn its head like a living person, and then return to its ordinary attitude.  I was terrified.  Nicias, to whom I related this prodigy, laughed at me; yet there must be some magic in that statue, for it inspired with violent desires a certain Dalmatian, who was insensible to my beauty.  It is certain that I have lived amongst enchanted things, and that I was exposed to the greatest perils, for men have been strangled by the embraces of a bronze statue.  Yet it would be a pity to destroy valuable works made with rare skill, and to burn my carpets and tapestry would be a great loss.  The beautiful colours of some of them are truly wonderful, and they cost much money to those who gave them to me.  I also possess cups, statues, and pictures of great price.  I do not think they ought to perish.  But you know what is necessary.  Do as you will, my father.”