Chapter 5

Chapter V
Pygmalion. Dryope. Venus and Adonis. Apollo and Hyacinthus.
Ceyx and Halcyone. Pygmalion saw so much to blame in women that he came at last to
abhor the sex, and resolved to live unmarried. He was a
sculptor, and had made with wonderful skill a statue of ivory, so
beautiful that no living woman could be compared to it in beauty.
It was indeed the perfect semblance of a maiden that seemed to be
alive, and only prevented from moving by modesty. His art was so
perfect that it concealed itself, and its product looked like the
workmanship of nature. Pygmalion admired his own work, and at
last fell in love with the counterfeit creation. Oftentimes he
laid his hand upon it, as if to assure himself whether it were
living or not, and could not even then believe that it was only
ivory. He caressed it, and gave it presents such as young girls
love, bright shells and polished stones, little birds and
flowers of various hues, beads and amber. He put raiment on its
limbs, and jewels on its fingers, and a necklace about its neck.
To the ears he hung earrings and strings of pearls upon the
breast. Her dress became her, and she looked not less charming
than when unattired. He laid her on a couch spread with cloths
of Tyrian dye, and called her his wife, and put her head upon a
pillow of the softest feathers, as if she could enjoy their
softness. The festival of Venus was at hand, a festival celebrated with
great pomp at Cyprus. Victims were offered, the altars smoked,
and the odor of incense filled the air. When Pygmalion had
performed his part in the solemnities, he stood before the altar
and timidly said, "Ye gods, who can do all things, give me, I
pray you, for my wife" he dared not say "my ivory virgin," but
said instead "one like my ivory virgin." Venus, who was
present at the festival, heard him and knew the thought he would
have uttered; and, as an omen of her favor, caused the flame on
the altar to shoot up thrice in a fiery point into the air. When
he returned home, he went to see his statue, and, leaning over
the couch, gave a kiss to the mouth. It seemed to be warm. He
pressed its lips again, he laid his hand upon the limbs; the
ivory felt soft to his touch, and yielded to his fingers like the
wax of Hymettus. While he stands astonished and glad, though
doubting, and fears he may be mistaken, again and again with a
lover's ardor he touches the object of his hopes. It was indeed
alive! The veins when pressed yielded to the finger and then
resumed their roundness. Then at last the votary of Venus found
words to thank the goddess, and pressed his lips upon lips as
real as his own. The virgin felt the kisses and blushed, and,
opening her timid eyes to the light, fixed them at the same