_might sleep also and dream of your freedom.”_
And the third slave said, “Perhaps she is seeing the procession of all those that she has slain.”
_And the cat purred, “Aye, she sees the procession of your forefathers and your descendants.”_
And the fourth slave said, “It is all very well to talk about her, but it does not make me less weary of standing and fanning.”
_And the cat purred, “You shall be fanning to all eternity; for as it is on earth so it is in heaven.”_
At this moment the old queen nodded in her sleep, and her crown fell to the floor.
And one of the slaves said, “That is a bad omen.”
_And the cat purred, “The bad omen of one is the good omen of another.”_
And the second slave said, “What if she should wake, and find her crown fallen! She would surely slay us.”
_And the cat purred, “Daily from your birth she has slain you and you know it not.”_
And the third slave said, “Yes, she would slay us and she would call it making sacrifice to the gods.”
_And the cat purred, “Only the weak are sacrificed to the gods.”_
And the fourth slave silenced the others, and softly he picked up the crown and replaced it, without waking her, on the old queen’s head.
_And the cat purred, “Only a slave restores a crown that has fallen.”_
And after a while the old queen woke, and she looked about her and yawned. Then she said, “Methought I dreamed, and I saw four caterpillars chased by a scorpion around the trunk of an ancient oaktree. I like not my dream.”
Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. And she snored. And the four slaves went on fanning her.
_And the cat purred, “Fan on, fan on, stupids. You fan but the fire that consumes you.”_
Thus sings the She-Dragon that guards the seven caves by the sea:
“My mate shall come riding on the waves. His thundering roar shall fill the earth with fear, and the flames of his nostrils shall set the sky afire. At the eclipse of the moon we shall be wedded, and at the eclipse of the sun I shall give birth to a Saint George, who shall slay me.”
Thus sings the She-Dragon that guards the seven caves by the sea.
In my youth I once visited a saint in his silent grove beyond the hills; and as we were conversing upon the nature of virtue a brigand came limping wearily up the ridge. When he reached the grove he knelt down before the saint and said, “O saint, I would be comforted! My sins are heavy upon me.”