He was eating of the grapes, breathing deeply of the rose-flavoured wind, when a woman came to him out of the moonlight. He couldn’t see her face clearly, but he felt her to be of extreme beauty, full in body, rich in sensuality, but obscure. He didn’t know what was obscure about her.
She sat beside him on the bed and her presence affected him deeply. Her body breathed out an unbearable lustful air. So strong was her lust that he began to quiver. Baring her thighs to him casually, she said:
‘I have hungered for a man such as you for many long years. Do you know what it is like when your body and soul crave a particular person whom you have not met, but whom you sense exists, and for whom you have been waiting for hundreds of years? Sensitive lovers know this feeling. We call it: “Sickness for your Orpheus”. That’s what I’ve had. You are my Orpheus. In my dreams I have loved you and wanted you. There has been no other, and there never will be. You are my missing soul. To be in your presence alone is like having entered a fairy-tale. I am a princess again, and you are my missing prince. Under these skies, in this square that has suffered more history than it has known love, and with the wind fragrant with a moment that will never be repeated, I have found you just as I thought I would – on a white bed, in the marble square, with a jug of water, and eating the grapes of the king.’