on my dress and covered my breast with my cloak, clutching it in my fist, and ran out. The air was fresh outside the wood, and the light sparkled over the hills and on the sands of the shore. Suddenly I glimpsed something moving over the waves. I shaded my eyes with my hand and peered hard: it was a boat gliding swiftly over the silvery waters... In its middle stood a man I knew, though I could not make out his face... and I saw another figure sitting in the stern. I began to run, hoping I might draw near him. But... it was hopeless... I let my arms fall... and the breezes of the shore drew the cloak away from the wounds of my breast, and I stood silent, jealousy rising within me... staring at the horizon while the vessel vanished beyond the road of light, wrapped in the glooms of darkness. The waves loitered gently, tenderly, at my feet, and the breezes toyed with my braids... And I remembered the legends of the village folk, and I remembered my grandmother's words: Whoever enters the temple by night and pours drops of his blood before the altar is granted his heart's desire... but he risks bearing Astarte's curse forever... above all lovers!