"But when rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, appeared (as Homer would say), when from the temple of Artemis rode forth my wise and beautiful Charikleia, then we realized that even Theagenes could be eclipsed, but eclipsed only in such measure as perfect female beauty is lovelier than the fairest of men. She rode in a carriage drawn by a pair of white bullocks, and she was appareled in a long purple gown embroidered with golden rays. Around her breast she wore a band of gold; the man who had crafted it had locked all his art into it—never before had he produced such a masterpiece, and never would he be able to repeat the achievement. It was in the shape of two serpents whose tails he had intertwined at the back of the garment; then he had brought their necks round under her breasts and woven them into an intricate knot, finally allowing their heads to slither free of the knot and draping them down either side of her body as if they formed no part of the clasp. You would have said not that the serpents seemed to be moving but that they were actually in motion. There was no cruelty or fellness in their eyes to cause one fright, but they were steeped in a sensuous languor as if lulled by the sweet joys that dwelt in Charikleia’s bosom."