Thaïs | Page 5

that that he had eaten food properly dressed, and
frequented the public baths. In fact, until his twentieth year he had
continued to lead the ordinary existence of those times, which now
seemed to him rather death than life; but, owing to the lessons of the
priest Macrinus, he then became a new man.
The truth penetrated him through and through, and--as he used to say--
entered his soul like a sword. He embraced the faith of Calvary, and
worshipped Christ crucified. After his baptism he remained yet a year
amongst the Gentiles, unable to cast off the bonds of old habits. But
one day he entered a church, and heard a deacon read from the Bible,
the verse, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to
the poor." Thereupon he sold all that he had, gave away the money in
alms, and embraced the monastic life.
During the ten years that he had lived remote from men, he no longer
seethed in the cauldron of false delights, but more profitably macerated
his flesh in the balms of penitence.
One day when, according to his pious custom, he was recalling to mind
the hours he had lived apart from God, and examining his sins one by
one, that he might the better ponder on their enormity, he remembered

that he had seen at the theatre at Alexandria a very beautiful actress
named Thais. This woman showed herself in the public games, and did
not scruple to perform dances, the movements of which, arranged only
too cleverly, brought to mind the most horrible passions. Sometimes
she imitated the horrible deeds which the Pagan fables ascribe to Venus,
Leda, or Pasiphae. Thus she fired all the spectators with lust, and when
handsome young men, or rich old ones, came, inspired with love, to
hang wreaths of flowers round her door, she welcomed them, and gave
herself up to them. So that, whilst she lost her own soul, she also ruined
the souls of many others.
She had almost led Paphnutius himself into the sins of the flesh. She
had awakened desire in him, and he had once approached the house of
Thais. But he stopped on the threshold of the courtesan's house, partly
restrained by the natural timidity of extreme youth--he was then but
fifteen years old--and partly by the fear of being refused on account of
his want of money, for his parents took care that he should commit no
great extravagances.
God, in His mercy, had used these two means to prevent him from
committing a great sin. But Paphnutius had not been grateful to Him
for that, because at that time he was blind to his own interests, and did
not know that he was lusting after false delights. Now, kneeling in his
cell, before the image of that holy cross on which hung, as in a balance,
the ransom of the world, Paphnutius began to think of Thais, because
Thais was a sin to him, and he meditated long, according to ascetic
rules, on the fearful hideousness of the carnal delights with which this
woman had inspired him in the days of his sin and ignorance. After
some hours of meditation the image of Thais appeared to him clearly
and distinctly. He saw her again, as he had seen her when she tempted
him, in all the beauty of the flesh. At first she showed herself like a
Leda, softly lying upon a bed of hyacinths, her head bowed, her eyes
humid and filled with a strange light, her nostrils quivering, her mouth
half open, her breasts like two flowers, and her arms smooth and fresh
as two brooks. At this sight Paphnutius struck his breast and said--
"I call Thee to witness, my God, that I have considered how heinous

has been my sin."
Gradually the face of the image changed its expression. Little by little
the lips of Thais, by lowering at the corners of the mouth, expressed a
mysterious suffering. Her large eyes were filled with tears and lights;
her breast heaved with sighs, like the sighing of a wind that precedes a
tempest. At this sight Paphnutius was troubled to the bottom of his soul.
Prostrating himself on the floor, he uttered this prayer--
"Thou who hast put pity in our hearts, like the morning dew upon the
fields, O just and merciful God, be Thou blessed! Praise! praise be unto
Thee! Put away from Thy servant that false tenderness which tempts to
concupiscence, and grant that I may only love Thy creatures in Thee,
for they pass away, but Thou endurest for ever. If I care for this woman,
it is only because she is Thy handiwork. The angels themselves feel
pity for her. Is she not, O Lord,