Pygmalion And Galatea (2)

Pygmalion, king of Cyprus, was a sworn bachelor, and had shunned the
society of women for many years. He was also a famous sculptor, and
spent all his leisure hours carving wonderful things out of marble
and ivory. Though he would not deign to admire any living woman, he
had lofty ideals of feminine beauty, and loved to carve statues whose
perfection of form and exquisite grace surpassed any charms that
could be claimed for a flesh-and-blood maiden. Once Pygmalion made a
beautiful ivory statue that was such a marvel of loveliness that even
the sculptor himself became enamored of it, and lavished upon it a
devotion that was hardly consistent with his supposed indifference to
love. This perfect creation he called Galatea, and he treated her with
all the extravagant fondness that a lover bestows upon his mistress.
He brought her presents of quaint seashells and delicately perfumed
flowers, beads, pearls, and the rarest of jewels, and even gayly
colored birds. Sometimes he hung a string of precious stones about her
neck, and draped her white body in softest silks, treating her in every
way as a maiden reluctant to be wooed.

When the festival of Venus was being celebrated, Pygmalion joined in
the procession and placed a rich offering on the goddess's shrine. As
he did so he looked up toward high Olympus and prayed Venus to grant
him a wife like his peerless Galatea. The goddess heard his prayer,
and as the patroness of all true lovers, she inclined with favor to
his wish; so when Pygmalion returned to his home and hastened into the
presence of his adored statue, he was bewildered at the change that
seemed to be coming over it. A beam of sunset light that was streaming
in through the open window had touched the ivory coldness of the statue
and warmed it with a rosy glow that made it look wonderfully soft and
yielding. But this was not all, for as the astonished sculptor stood
wondering at this unexpected answer to his prayer, the beautiful face
of Galatea turned toward him, and the perfect lips parted as if to
speak. Breathlessly Pygmalion watched the statue gradually warming
into life, and when he was at last assured that it was no longer a
piece of unresponsive ivory, but a breathing, blushing maiden, he knelt
adoringly at her feet and besought her to be his queen.