Sometimes I have kissed their lips and died with them, and the world has missed my face for a hundred unlovely years--for the world is only beautiful when I and my lovers are in it.

Antony, you are one of my lovers, one of my dearest lovers; be great enough, be all mine, and perhaps I will die with you, Antony--and leave the world in darkness for your sake, another hundred years." "Tell me of your lovers, Silencieux." "Nearly three thousand years ago I loved a woman of Mitylene, very fair and made of fire.

But she loved another more than I, and for his sake threw herself from a rock into the sea.

As she fell, the rose we had made together fell from her bosom, and was torn to pieces by the sea.
Fishermen gathered here and there a petal floating on the waters,--but what were they ?--and the world has never known how wonderful was that rose of our love which she took with her into the depths of the sea." "You are faithful, Silencieux; you love her still." "Yes, I love her still." "And with whom did love come next, Silencieux ?" "Oh, I loved many those years, for the loss of a great love sends us vainly from hand to hand of many lesser loves, to ease a little the great ache; and at that time the world seemed full of my lovers.

I have forgotten none of them.