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diff --git a/40476-8.txt b/40476-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 33eb2f4..0000000 --- a/40476-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10168 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dawn, by Elsie Finnimore Buckley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Children of the Dawn - Old Tales of Greece - -Author: Elsie Finnimore Buckley - -Illustrator: Frederick C. Pape - -Release Date: August 11, 2012 [EBook #40476] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DAWN *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, Matthew Wheaton, Carbon County -Public Library (Rawlins, Wyoming) and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - CHILDREN OF THE DAWN - - OLD TALES OF GREECE - - - [Illustration: Each night Hero lighted her torch; each night Leander - swam across the narrow sea. _Page 117._] - - - - - CHILDREN OF THE DAWN OLD TALES OF GREECE - - WRITTEN BY - - ELSIE FINNIMORE BUCKLEY - - - INTRODUCTION BY ILLUSTRATIONS BY - ARTHUR SIDGWICK FRANK C PAPÉ - - NEW YORK - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - -INTRODUCTION: - - -The aim of this volume is to present, in a form suitable for young -readers, a small selection from the almost inexhaustible -treasure-house of the ancient Greek tales, which abound (it is -needless to say) in all Greek poetry, and are constantly referred to -by the prose-writers. These stories are found, whether narrated at -length, or sometimes only mentioned in a cursory and tantalising -reference, from the earliest poets, Homer and Hesiod, through the -lyric age, and the Attic renaissance of the fifth century, when they -form the material of the tragic drama, down to the second century -B.C., when Apollodorus, the Athenian grammarian, made a prose -collection of them, which is invaluable. They reappear at Rome in the -Augustan age (and later), in the poems of Vergil, Ovid, and -Statius--particularly in Ovid's "Metamorphoses." Many more are -supplied by Greek or Roman travellers, scholars, geographers, or -historians, of the first three centuries of our era, such as -Strabo, Pausanias, Athenæus, Apuleius and Ælian. The tales are -various--stories of love, adventure, heroism, skill, endurance, -achievement or defeat. The gods take active part, often in conflict -with each other. The heroes or victims are men and women; and behind -all, inscrutable and inexorable, sits the dark figure of Fate. The -Greeks had a rare genius for storytelling of all sorts. Whether the -tales were of native growth, or imported from the East or -elsewhere--and both sources are doubtless represented--once they had -passed through the Greek hands, the Greek spirit, "finely touched to -fine issues," marked them for its own with the beauty, vivacity, -dramatic interest, and imaginative outline and detail, which were -never absent from the best Greek work, least of all during the -centuries that lie between Homer and Plato. - -The eleven tales here presented from this vast store are (as will be -seen) very various both in date, character, and detail; and they seem -well chosen for their purpose. The writer of these English versions of -ancient stories has clearly aimed at a terse simplicity of style, -while giving full details, with occasional descriptive passages where -required to make the scene more vivid; and, for the same end, she has -rightly made free use of dialogue or soliloquy wherever the story -could thus be more pointedly or dramatically told. - -The first story, called "The Riddle of the Sphinx," gives us in brief -the whole Theban tale, from King Laius and the magical building of the -city, to the incomparable scene from Sophocles' last play, describing -the "Passing of OEdipus." It even includes the heroic action of -Antigone, in burying with due rites her dead brother, in spite of the -tyrant's threats, and at the cost of her own life. No tale was more -often treated in ancient poetry than this tragedy of Thebes. Homer and -Hesiod both refer to it, Æschylus wrote a whole trilogy, and -Sophocles three separate dramas, on this theme. Euripides dealt with -it in his "Phoenissæ," which survives, and in his "OEdipus and -Antigone," of which a few fragments remain. And several other poets -whose works are lost are known by the titles of their plays to have -dealt with the same subject. - -One other tale in this selection rests in large measure on the Attic -drama--namely, the story of Alcestis, the fourth in this series. As -far as we know, Euripides alone of the ancients treated this theme, in -his beautiful and interesting play "Alcestis," which is here closely -followed by our author. The past history of Admetus, the king, which -Euripides briefly summarises in the prologue, is here dramatized, and -adds much interest to the story, including as it does the Argonauts' -visit to Pelias, and the romantic imaginary scene of the king's first -meeting with Alcestis. - -The two charming love-stories which come second and third in this -series, though unquestionably Greek in origin, reach us from Roman -sources, and bear clear evidence in their form and spirit of belonging -to a later age. The character of the love romance in "Hero and -Leander" and the transparent allegory of "Eros and Psyche" (Love and -the Soul), leave little doubt on this point. The former tale is -ascribed to a late Greek epic poet, Musæus, of whom nothing else is -known; and the latter we owe to Apuleius, a Roman philosopher and man -of letters in the second century A.D. - -The fifth and tenth stories (in both of which Atalanta appears) rest -in their present shape on the authority of Apollodorus; but the -incidents of the Calydonian boar-hunt, and the race for the hand of -the princess, won by the suitor's clever trick of the golden apples, -are found as local traditions connected with two different parts of -Greece, Arcadia and Boeotia, and may be in their earliest form of -great antiquity. - -The two fanciful stories of Echo and Narcissus, and Alpheus and -Arethusa, which form the sixth and ninth in this series, are among the -prettiest of Nature myths, and are characteristic Greek inventions. -The chase of Arethusa under the sea by the river-god Alpheus was to a -Greek the most natural of fancies, for to him all water was protected -by, or identified with, some god, nymph, or spirit; and the fancy was -especially easy to a dweller in the limestone district of Arcadia, -where streams may run underground for long distances, and reappear as -full-grown rivers from a cavern at the foot of the hills. The tale of -Echo in its present form comes only from Latin poetry (Ovid); but the -fancy that Echo was a spirit or nymph, which is the heart of the -story, may well be of unknown antiquity, especially among the most -imaginative of races, living in a land of rocky hills, the native home -of echoes. - -Of the remaining stories (Pygmalion, Orpheus, and OEnone), the -briefest comment will suffice. The beautiful and pathetic tale of -Orpheus and Eurydice, which is best known to us from the incomparable -version of it at the close of Vergil's fourth "Georgic," we know on -good evidence to have been extant at least as early as Æschylus (fifth -century B.C.), and possibly much earlier. The touching story of -OEnone is post-Homeric, and is known to us only from Ovid and -Apollodorus. It is familiar to all Englishmen from the two beautiful -poems of Tennyson, which are respectively among the earliest and -latest of his works. The strange yet striking tale of Pygmalion also -comes to us from Apollodorus; and though it may be much older, it is -perhaps not likely to belong to an earlier time than the fourth -century B.C., a date which seems to be suggested both by the character -of the story, and the development of the art of sculpture implied in -it. - -It only remains to commend these beautiful old stories, in their -English dress, to the favour of those for whom they are intended. - - A. SIDGWICK. - - OXFORD, - _September 9, 1908_. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX - EROS AND PSYCHE - HERO AND LEANDER - THE SACRIFICE OF ALCESTIS - HUNTING THE CALYDONIAN BOAR - THE CURSE OF ECHO - THE SCULPTOR AND THE IMAGE - THE DIVINE MUSICIAN - THE FLIGHT OF ARETHUSA - THE WINNING OF ATALANTA - PARIS AND OENONE - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - FRONTISPIECE--Each night Hero lighted her torch; each night - Leander swam across the narrow sea - TITLE-PAGE - Heading to Introduction - Heading to Contents - Heading to List of Illustrations - She put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from side to - side like an angry lion waiting for his prey - With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, and - Theseus followed after - On the bed, wrapped in slumber, lay the youngest and fairest of - the Immortals - Faster and faster he went, and up and down, and round and round - She unloosed the rope, and pushed out into the stream - "Help, help! I drown in this foul stream!" - She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled - beneath her, so that she leant back against the pillar for - support - From the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman, playing - on his lyre - Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine.... Without a thought - he passed the altar by - And the children crept silently to her - She answered him never a word, but held out both her hands and - raised him from his knees - As he spoke, he took her by the hand, and set her in a place of - honour between his father and himself - As the brute bore down, Meleager buried the spear deep in his - shoulder - For the last time he leaned forward - On the breath of the night wind Aphrodite came in, and she - kissed the statue on the lips - From the shadow of the cave crept a wood-nymph, and lay upon the - grass - "Orpheus," she cried in her despair, "thy hand!" - On and on she fled, with the swiftness and strength of despair - "Oh, my father!" she cried - Out of the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of her tunic - Out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a - maiden clad all in misty white - Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achæan host - Cast herself upon the body of Paris, and put her arms about his - neck - Initials, Tail-pieces, etc. - - - - -Children of the Dawn - - - - -The Riddle of the Sphinx - - -Far away towards the east and the regions of the rising sun lies the -fair land of Hellas, a land famous from of old for mighty deeds of -mighty men, and famous to this day among the nations of the earth; for -though the mighty men, her heroes, have long since passed away, their -names live on for ever in the pages of her grand old poets, who sing -of their deeds in strains which still kindle the hearts of men, and -stir them up to be heroes too, and fight life's battle bravely. - -Long ago, in the city of Thebes, there ruled a king named Laius and -his queen Iocasta. They were children of the gods, and Thebes itself, -men said, had been built by hands more than mortal; for Apollo had led -Cadmus the Phoenician, the son of Zeus, to the sacred spot where he -was to raise the citadel of Thebes, and Pallas Athene had helped him -to slay the monstrous dragon that guarded the sacred spring of Ares. -The teeth of the dragon, Cadmus took and planted in the plain of -Thebes, and from this seed there sprang up a great host of armed men, -who would have slain him; but he took a stone and cast it in their -midst, whereupon the serpent-men turned their arms one against -another, fighting up and down the plain till only five were left. With -the help of these five, Cadmus built the citadel of Thebes, and round -it made a wall so wide that a dozen men and more might walk upon it, -and so huge were the stones and so strong was the masonry that parts -of it are standing to this day. As for the city itself, the tale goes -that Amphion, the mightiest of all musicians, came with his lyre, and -so sweetly did he play that the hearts of the very stones were stirred -within them, so that of their own free-will they fell into their -places, and the town of Thebes rose up beneath the shadow of the -citadel. - -For many a long day did Laius and Iocasta rule over the people of -Thebes, and all that time they had no children; for a dreadful curse -lay on the head of Laius that, if ever he had a son, by that son's -hand he should die. At last a boy was born to them, and Laius, -remembering the curse, swore that the child should never grow to -manhood, and he bade Iocasta slay him forthwith. But she, being his -mother, was filled with a great love and pity for the helpless child. -When it nestled in her arms and clung to her breast she could not find -it in her heart to slay it, and she wept over it many a bitter salt -tear, and pressed it closer to her bosom. As the tiny fingers closed -round hers, and the soft head pressed against her, she murmured, - -"Surely, so little a thing can do no harm? Sweet babe, they say that I -must kill thee, but they know not a mother's love. Rather than that, I -will put thee away out of my sight, and never see thee more, though -the gods know I had sooner die than lose thee, my little one, my own -sweet babe." - -So she called a trusty house-slave, who knew the king's decree, and -placing the child in his arms, she said, - -"Go, take it away, and hide it in the hills. Perchance the gods will -have pity on it, and put it in the heart of some shepherd, who feeds -his flocks on distant pastures, to take the child home to his cot and -rear it. Farewell, my pretty babe. The green grass must be thy cradle, -and the mountain breezes must lull thee to sleep. May the gods in -their mercy bless thy childhood's hours, and make thy name famous -among men; for thou art a king's son, and a child of the Immortals, -and the Immortals forget not those that are born of their blood." - -So the man took the child from Iocasta; but, because he feared the -king's decree, he pierced its ankles and bound them together, for he -thought, - -"Surely, even if some shepherd wandering on the mountain-side should -light upon the child, he will never rear one so maimed; and if the -king should ask, I will say that he is dead." - -But because the child wept for the pain in its ankles, he took it home -first to his wife to be fed and comforted, and when she gave it back -into his arms, it smiled up into his face. Then all the hardness died -out of his heart, for the gods had shed about it a grace to kindle -love in the coldest breast. - -Now Cithæron lies midway between Thebes and Corinth, and in -winter-time the snow lies deep upon the summit, and the wild winds -shriek through the rocks and clefts, and the pine trees pitch and bend -beneath the fury of the blast, so that men called it the home of the -Furies, the Awful Goddesses, who track out sin and murder. And there, -too, in the streams and caverns, dwell the naiads and the nymphs, wild -spirits of the rocks and waters; and if any mortal trespass on their -haunts, they drive him to madness in their echoing grottoes and gloomy -caves. Yet, for all that, though men called it dark Cithæron, the -grass about its feet grew fine and green, so that the shepherds came -from all the neighbouring towns to pasture their flocks on its -well-watered slopes. Here it was that Laius's herdsman fell in with a -herdsman of Polybus, king of Corinth, and, seeing that he was a kindly -man, and likely to have compassion on the child, he gave it him to -rear. - -Now, it had not pleased the gods to grant any children to Polybus, -king of Corinth, and Merope, his wife, though they wreathed their -altars with garlands and burnt sweet savour of incense; and at last -all hope died out of their hearts, and they said, - -"The gods are angry, and will destroy our race, and the kingdom shall -pass into the hands of a stranger." - -But one day it chanced that the queen saw in the arms of one of her -women a child she had not seen before, and she questioned her, and -asked if it were hers. And the woman confessed that her husband, the -king's herdsman, had found it on dim Cithæron, and had taken pity on -it, and brought it home. Then the queen looked at the child, and -seeing that it was passing fair, she said, - -"Surely this is no common babe, but a child of the Immortals. His hair -is golden as the summer corn, and his eyes like the stars in heaven. -What if the gods have sent him to comfort our old age, and rule the -kingdom when we are dead? I will rear him in the palace as my own son, -and he shall be a prince in the land of Corinth." - -So the child lived in the palace, and became a son to Polybus and -Merope, and heir to the kingdom. For want of a name they called him -OEdipus, because his ankles, when they found him, were all swollen -by the pin that the herdsman had put through them. As he grew up, he -found favour in all men's eyes, for he was tall and comely and cunning -withal. - -"The gods are gracious," men said, "to grant the king such a son, and -the people of Corinth so mighty a prince, to rule over them in days to -come." - -For as yet they knew not that he was a foundling, and no true heir to -the throne. - -Now, while the child was still young, he played about the courts of -the palace, and in running and leaping and in feats of strength and -hardihood of heart there was none to beat him among his playmates, or -even to stand up against him, save one. But so well matched were these -two, that the other children would gather round them in a ring to -watch them box and wrestle, and the victor they would carry on their -shoulders round the echoing galleries with shouting and clapping of -hands; and sometimes it was OEdipus, and sometimes the other lad. -But at length there came a time when again and again OEdipus was -proved the stronger, and again and again the other slunk home beaten, -like a cur that has been whipped: and he brooded over his defeat, and -nourished hatred in his heart against OEdipus, and vowed that one -day he would have his revenge by fair means or by foul. - -But when Merope the queen saw OEdipus growing tall and fair, and -surpassing all his comrades in strength, she took him up one day on to -the citadel, and showed him all the lovely land of Hellas lying at his -feet. Below them spread the shining city, with its colonnades and -fountains and stately temples of the gods, like some jewel in the -golden sands, and far away to the westward stretched the blue -Corinthian Gulf, till the mountains of Ætolia seemed to join hands -with their sisters in Peloponnese. And she showed him the hills of -Arcadia, the land of song and shepherds, where Pan plays his pipe -beneath the oak-trees, and nymphs and satyrs dance all the day long. -Away to the bleak north-west stood out the snowy peaks of Mount -Parnassus and Helicon, the home of the Muses, who fill men's minds -with wisdom and their hearts with the love of all things beautiful. -Here the first narcissus blooms, and the olive and the myrtle and rosy -almond-blossom gently kiss the laughing rivulets and the shining, -dancing cascades. For Helicon was a fair and gentle youth whom his -cruel brother Cithæron slew in his mad jealousy. Whereupon the gods -changed them both into mountains, and Helicon is mild and fair to this -day, and the home of all good things; but Cithæron is bleak and -barren, because his hard heart had no pity, and the Furies haunt it -unceasingly. Then Merope turned him to the eastward and the land of -the Dawning Day, and showed him the purple peaks of Ægina and the -gleaming Attic shore. And she said to him, - -"OEdipus, my son, seest thou how Corinth lies midway 'twixt north -and south and east and west, a link to join the lands together and a -barrier to separate the seas?" - -And OEdipus answered, - -"Of a truth, mother, he who rules in Corinth hath need of a lion's -heart, for he must stand ever sword in hand and guard the passage from -north to south." - -"Courage is a mighty thing, my son, but wisdom is mightier. The sword -layeth low, but wisdom buildeth up. Seest thou the harbours on either -side, facing east and west, and the masts of the ships, like a forest -in winter, and the traffic of sailors and merchants on the shore? From -all lands they come and bring their wares and merchandise, and men of -every nation meet together. Think not, my son, that a lion's heart and -a fool's head therewith can ever be a match for the wisdom of Egypt or -the cunning of Phoenicia." - -Then OEdipus understood, and said, - -"Till now I have wrestled and boxed and run races with my fellows on -the sands the livelong day, and none can beat me. Henceforth I will -sit in the market-place and discourse with foreigners and learned men, -so that, when I come to rule in my father's place, I may be the wisest -in all the land." - -And Merope was pleased at his answer, but in her heart she was sad -that his simple childish days were past; and she prayed that if the -gods granted him wisdom they would keep his heart pure and free from -all uncleanness. - -So OEdipus sat in the market-place and talked with merchants and -travellers, and he went down to the ships in the harbour and learned -many strange things of strange lands--the wisdom of the Egyptians, -who were the wisest of all men in the south, and the cunning of the -Phoenicians, who were the greatest merchants and sailors in all the -world. But in the evening, when the sun was low in the west, and the -hills all turned to amethyst and sapphire, and the snow-mountains -blushed ruby red beneath his parting kiss, then along the smooth, gold -sands of the Isthmus, by the side of the sounding sea, he would box -and wrestle and run, till all the ways were darkened and the stars -stood out in the sky. For he was a true son of Hellas, and knew that -nine times out of every ten a slack body and a slack mind go together. - -So he grew up in his beauty, a very god for wisdom and might, and -there was no question he could not answer nor riddle he could not -solve, so that all the land looked up to him, and the king and queen -loved him as their own son. - -Now one day there was a great banquet in the palace, to which all the -noblest of the land were bidden, and the minstrels played and the -tumblers danced and the wine flowed freely round the board, so that -men's hearts were opened, and they talked of great deeds and heroes, -and boasted what they themselves could do. And OEdipus boasted as -loud as any, and challenged one and all to meet him in fair fight. But -the youth who had grown up with him in rivalry, and nourished jealousy -and hatred in his heart, taunted him to his face, and said, - -"Base born that thou art, and son of slave, thinkest thou that free -men will fight with thee? Lions fight not with curs, and though thou -clothe thyself with purple and gold, all men know that thou art no -true son to him thou callest thy sire." - -And this he said being flushed with wine, and because myriad-mouthed -Rumour had spread abroad the tale that OEdipus was a foundling, -though he himself knew nought thereof. - -Then OEdipus flushed red with rage, and swift as a gale that sweeps -down from the mountains he fell upon the other, and seizing him by the -throat, he shook him till he had not breath to beg for mercy. - -"What sayest thou now, thou whelp? Begone with thy lying taunt, now -that thou hast licked the dust for thy falsehood." - -And he flung him out from the hall. But Merope leant pale and sad -against a pillar, and veiled her face in her mantle to hide her tears. -And when they were alone, OEdipus took her hand and stroked it, and -said, - -"Grieve not for my fiery spirit, mother, but call me thine own son, -and say that I was right to silence the liar who would cast dishonour -upon my father's name and upon thee." - -But she looked at him sadly and longingly through her tears, and spoke -in riddling words, - -"The gods, my child, sent thee to thy father and to me in answer to -our prayers. A gift of God thou art, and a gift of God thou shalt be, -living and dead, to them that love thee. The flesh groweth old and -withereth away as a leaf, but the spirit liveth on for ever, and those -are the truest of kin who are kin in the spirit of goodness and of -love." - -But OEdipus was troubled, for she would say no more, but only held -his hand, and when he drew it away it was wet with her tears. Then he -thought in his heart, - -"Verily, my mother would not weep for nought. What if, after all, -there be something in the tale? I will go to the central shrine of -Hellas and ask the god of Truth, golden-haired Apollo. If he say it is -a lie, verily I will thrust it back down that coward's throat, and the -whole land shall ring with his infamy. And if it be true--the gods -will guide me how to act." - -So he set forth alone upon his pilgrimage. And he took the road that -runs by the side of the sea and up past Mount Gerania, with its -pine-clad slopes, where Megarus, the son of Zeus, took refuge, when -the floods covered all the land and only the mountain-tops stood out -like islands in the sea. For he followed the cry of the cranes as they -sought refuge from the waters, and was saved, and founded the city of -Megara, which is called by his name to this day. Right past -Ægosthena--the home of the black-footed goats--went OEdipus to -Creusis, along the narrow rocky path between the mountains and the -sea, where a man must needs be sure of foot and steady of head, if he -is to stand against the storms that sweep down from bleak Cithæron. -For the winds rush shrieking down the hills like Furies in their -wrath, and they sweep all that stands in their way over the beetling -cliffs into the yawning, seething gulf below, and those that fall into -her ravening jaws she devours like some wild beast, and they are seen -no more. Then he went through fertile Thisbe past the little port of -Tipha, the home of Tiphys, helmsman of the famous Argonauts, who -sailed to nameless lands and unknown seas in their search for the -Golden Fleece. And many a roaring torrent did he cross, as it rushed -foaming down from the steep white cliffs of Helicon, and over -pathless mountains, past rocky Anticyra and the hills of hellebore, -and through the barren plain of Cirrha, till he came to rock-built -Crisa and the fair Crisean plain, the land of cornfields and vineyards -and the grey-green olive-groves, where in spring-time the pomegranate -and oleander flowers shine out red as beacon-fires by night. - -There he had well-nigh reached his journey's end, and his heart beat -fast as he mingled with the band of pilgrims, each bound on his -different quest to the god of Light and Truth, golden-haired Apollo, -the mightiest of the sons of Zeus and the slayer of Pytho, the famous -dragon. At Delphi is his shrine and dwelling-place, and there within -his temple stands the sacred stone which fell from heaven and marks -the centre of the earth. A great gulf yawns beneath, a mighty fissure -going deep down into the bowels of the earth to the regions of the -dead and the land of endless night; and deadly fumes rise up and -noxious mists and vapours, so that the Pythian priestess, who sits -above on her brazen tripod, is driven to frenzy by their power. Then -it is that she hears the voice of Apollo, and her eyes are opened to -see what no mortal can see, and her ears to hear the secrets of the -gods and Fate. Those things which Apollo bids her she chants to the -pilgrims in mystic verse, which only the wise can interpret aright. So -from north and south and east and west men flocked to hear her -prophecies, and the fame of Apollo's shrine went out through every -land--from Ocean's stream and the Pillars of Heracles to the far -Ionian shore and Euphrates, the mighty river of the East. - -OEdipus drew near to the sacred place and made due sacrifice, and -washed in the great stone basin, and put away all uncleanness from his -heart, and went through the portals of rock to the awful shrine -within, where the undying fire burns night and day and the sacred -laurel stands. And he put his question to the god and waited for an -answer. Through the dim darkness of the shrine he saw the priestess on -her tripod, veiled in a mist of incense and vapour, and as the power -of the god came upon her she beheld the things of the future and the -hidden secrets of Fate. And she raised her hand towards OEdipus, and -with pale lips spoke the words of doom, - -"OEdipus, ill-fated, thine own sire shalt thou slay." - -As she spoke the words his head swam round like a whirlpool, and his -heart seemed turned to stone; then, with a loud and bitter cry, he -rushed from the temple, through the thronging crowd of pilgrims down -into the Sacred Way, and the people moved out of his path like -shadows. Blindly he sped along the stony road, down through the pass -to a place where three roads meet, and he shuddered as he crossed -them; for Fear laid her cold hand upon his heart and filled it with a -wild, unreasoning dread, and branded the image of that awful spot upon -his brain so that he could never forget it. On every side the -mountains frowned down upon him, and seemed to echo to and fro the -doom which the priestess had spoken. Straight forward he went like -some hunted thing, turning neither to right nor left, till he came to -a narrow path, where he met an old man in a chariot drawn by mules, -with his trusty servants round him. - -"Ho! there, thou madman!" they shouted; "stand by and let the chariot -pass." - -"Madmen yourselves," he cried, for his sore heart could not brook the -taunt. "I am a king's son, and will stand aside for no man." - -So he tried to push past them by force, though he was one against -many. And the old man stretched out his hand as though to stop him, -but as well might a child hope to stand up against a wild bull. For he -thrust him aside and felled him from his seat, and turned upon his -followers, and, striking out to right and left, he stunned one and -slew another, and forced his way through in blind fury. But the old -man lay stiff and still upon the road. The fall from the chariot had -quenched the feeble spark of life within him, and his spirit fled away -to the house of Hades and the kingdom of the Dead. One trusty servant -lay slain by his side, and the other senseless and stunned, and when -he awoke, to find his master and his comrades slain, OEdipus was far -upon his way. - -On and on he went, over hill and dale and mountain-stream, till at -length his strength gave way, and he sank down exhausted. And black -despair laid hold of his heart, and he said within himself, - -"Better to die here on the bare hill-side and be food for the kites -and crows than return to my father's house to bring death to him and -sorrow to my mother's heart." - -But sweet sleep fell upon him, and when he awoke hope and the love of -life put other thoughts in his breast. And he remembered the words -which Merope the queen had spoken to him one day when he was boasting -of his strength and skill. - -"Strength and skill, my son, are the gifts of the gods, as the rain -which falleth from heaven and giveth life and increase to the fruits -of the earth. But man's pride is an angry flood that bringeth -destruction on field and city. Remember that great gifts may work -great good or great evil, and he who has them must answer to the gods -below if he use them well or ill." - -And he thought within himself, - -"'Twere ill to die if, even in the uttermost parts of the earth, men -need a strong man's arm and a wise man's cunning. Never more will I -return to far-famed Corinth and my home by the sounding sea, but to -far-distant lands will I go and bring blessing to those who are not of -my kin, since to mine own folk I must be a curse if ever I return." - -So he went along the road from Delphi till he came to seven-gated -Thebes. There he found all the people in deep distress and mourning, -for their king Laius was dead, slain by robbers on the high road, and -they had buried him far from his native land at a place where three -roads meet. And, worse still, their city was beset by a terrible -monster, the Sphinx, part eagle and part lion, with the face of a -woman, who every day devoured a man because they could not answer the -riddle she set them. All this OEdipus heard as he stood in the -market-place and talked with the people. - -"What is this famous riddle that none can solve?" he asked. - -"Alas! young man, that none can say. For he that would solve the -riddle must go up alone to the rock where she sits. Then and there she -chants the riddle, and if he answer it not forthwith she tears him -limb from limb. And if none go up to try the riddle, then she swoops -down upon the city and carries off her victims, and spares not woman -or child. Our wisest and bravest have gone up and our eyes have seen -them no more. Now there is no man left who dare face the terrible -beast." - -Then OEdipus said, - -"I will go up and face this monster. It must be a hard riddle indeed -if I cannot answer it." - -"Oh, overbold and rash," they cried, "thinkest thou to succeed where -so many have failed?" - -"Better to try, and fail, than never to try at all." - -"Yet, where failure is death, surely a man should think twice?" - -"A man can die but once, and how better than in trying to save his -fellows?" - -As they looked at his strong young limbs and his fair young face they -pitied him. - -"Stranger," they said, "who art thou to throw away thy life thus -heedlessly? Are there none at home to mourn thee and no kingdom thou -shouldst rule? For, of a truth, thou art a king's son and no common -man." - -"Nay, were I to return, my home would be plunged in mourning and woe, -and the people would drive me from my father's house." - -They marvelled at his answer, but dared question him no further; and, -seeing that nothing would turn him from his purpose, they showed him -the path to the Sphinx's rock, and all the people went out with him to -the gate with prayers and blessings. At the gate they left him, for he -who goes up to face the Sphinx must go alone, and none can stand by -and help him. So he went through the Crenean gate and across the -stream of Dirce into the wide plain, and the mountain of the Sphinx -stood out dark and clear on the other side. Then he prayed to Pallas -Athene, the grey-eyed goddess of Wisdom, and she took all fear from -his heart. So he went up boldly to the rock, where the monster sat -waiting to spring upon her prey; yet for all his courage his heart -beat fast as he looked on her. For at first she appeared like a mighty -bird, with great wings of bronze and gold, and the glancing sunbeams -played about them, casting a halo of light around, and in the midst of -the halo her face shone out pale and beautiful as a star at dawn. But -when she saw him coming near, a greedy fire lit up her eyes, and she -put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from side to side like an -angry lion waiting for his prey. Nevertheless, OEdipus spoke to her -fair and softly, - -"Oh, lady, I am come to hear thy famous riddle and answer it or die." - -"Foolhardy manling, a dainty morsel the gods have sent this day, with -thy fair young face and fresh young limbs." - -And she licked her cruel lips. - -Then OEdipus felt his blood boil within him, and he wished to slay -her then and there; for she who had been the fairest of women was now -the foulest of beasts, and he saw that by her cruelty and lust she had -killed the woman's soul within her, and the soul of a beast had taken -its place. - -"Come, tell me thy famous riddle, foul Fury that thou art, that I may -answer it and rid the land of this curse." - -"At dawn it creeps on four legs; at noon it strides on two; at sunset -and evening it totters on three. What is this thing, never the same, -yet not many, but one?" - -[Illustration: "She put out her cruel claws and lashed her tail from -side to side like an angry lion waiting for his prey."] - -So she chanted slowly, and her eyes gleamed cruel and cold. - -Then thought OEdipus within himself, - -"Now or never must my learning and wit stand me in good stead, or in -vain have I talked with the wisest of men and learnt the secrets of -Phoenicia and Egypt." - -And the gods who had given him understanding sent light into his -heart, and boldly he answered, - -"What can this creature be but man, O Sphinx? For, a helpless babe at -the dawn of life, he crawls on his hands and feet; at noontide he -walks erect in the strength of his manhood; and at evening he supports -his tottering limbs with a staff, the prop and stay of old age. Have I -not answered aright and guessed thy famous riddle?" - -Then with a loud cry of despair, and answering him never a word, the -great beast sprang up from her seat on the rock and hurled herself -over the precipice into the yawning gulf beneath. Far away across the -plain the people heard her cry, and they saw the flash of the sun on -her brazen wings like a gleam of lightning in the summer sky. -Thereupon they sent up a great shout of joy to heaven, and poured out -from every gate into the open plain, and some raised OEdipus upon -their shoulders, and with shouts and songs of triumph bore him to the -city. Then and there they made him king with one accord, for the old -king had left no son behind him, and who more fitted to rule over them -than the slayer of the Sphinx and the saviour of their city? - -So OEdipus became king of Thebes, and wisely and well did he rule, -and for many a long year the land prospered both in peace and war. But -the day came when a terrible pestilence broke out, and the people died -by hundreds, so that at last OEdipus sent messengers to Delphi to -ask why the gods were angry and had sent a plague upon the land. And -this was the answer they brought back, - -"There is an unclean thing in Thebes. Never has the murderer of Laius -been found, and he dwells a pollution in the land. Though the -vengeance of the gods is slow, yet it cometh without fail, and the -shedding of blood shall not pass unpunished." - -Then OEdipus made proclamation through the land that if any man knew -who the murderer was, they should give him up to his doom and appease -the anger of Heaven. And he laid a terrible curse on any who dared to -give so much as a crust of bread or a draught of water to him who had -brought such suffering on the land. So throughout the country far and -wide a search was made to track out the stain of blood and cleanse the -city from pollution, but day after day the quest was fruitless, and -the pestilence raged unceasingly, and darkness fell upon the soul of -the people, as their prayers remained unanswered and their -burnt-offerings smoked in vain upon the altars of the gods. Then at -last OEdipus sent for the blind seer Teiresias, who had lived -through six generations of mortal men, and was the wisest of all -prophets on earth. He knew the language of the birds, and, though his -eyes were closed in darkness, his ears were opened to hear the secrets -of the universe, and he knew the hidden things of the past and of the -future. But at first when he came before the king he would tell him -nothing, but begged him to question no further. - -"For the things of the future will come of themselves," he cried, -"though I shroud them in silence, and evil will it be for thee, O -king, and evil for thine house if I speak out the knowledge that is -hidden in my heart." - -At last OEdipus grew angry at his silence, and taunted him, - -"Verily, me thinks thou thyself didst aid in the plotting of this -deed, seeing that thou carest nought for the people bowed down beneath -the pestilence and the dark days that are fallen on the land, so be it -thou canst shield the murderer and escape thyself from the curse of -the gods." - -Then Teiresias was stung past bearing, and would hold his tongue no -longer. "By thine own doom shalt thou be judged, O king," he said. -"Thou thyself art the murderer, thyself the pollution that staineth -the land with the blood of innocent men." - -Then OEdipus laughed aloud, - -"Verily, old man, thou pratest. What rival hath urged thee to this -lie, hoping to drive me from the throne of Thebes? Of a truth, not -thine eyes only, but thy heart, is shrouded in a mist of darkness." - -"Woe to thee, OEdipus, woe to thee! Thou hast sight, yet seest not -who thou art, nor knowest the deed of thine hand. Soon shalt thou -wander sightless and blind, a stranger in a strange land, feeling the -ground with a staff, and men shall shrink back from thee in horror -when they hear thy name and the deed that thou hast done." - -And the people were hushed by the words of the old man, and knew not -what to think. But the wife of OEdipus, who stood by his side, said, - -"Hearken not to him, my lord. For verily no mortal can search the -secrets of Fate, as I can prove full well by the words of this same -man that he spoke in prophecy. For he it was who said that Laius, the -king who is dead, should be slain by the hand of his own son. However, -that poor innocent never grew to manhood, but was exposed on the -trackless mountain-side to die of cold and hunger; and Laius, men say, -was slain by robber bands at a place where three roads meet. So -hearken not to seer-craft, ye people, nor trust in the words of one -who is proved a false prophet." - -But her words brought no comfort to OEdipus, and a dreadful fear -came into his heart, like a cold, creeping snake, as he listened. For -he thought of his journey from Delphi, and of how in his frenzy he had -struck down an old man and his followers at a place where three roads -meet. When he questioned her further, the time and the place and the -company all tallied, save only that rumour had it that Laius had been -slain by robber bands, whilst he had been single-handed against many. - -"Was there none left," he asked, "who saw the deed and lived to tell -the tale?" - -"Yea, one faithful follower returned to bear the news, but so soon as -the Sphinx was slain and the people had made thee king he went into -distant pastures with his flocks, for he could not brook to see a -stranger in his master's place, albeit he had saved the land from -woe." - -"Go, summon him," said OEdipus. "If the murderers were many, as -rumour saith, with his aid we may track them out; but if he was one -man single-handed--yea, though that man were myself--of a truth he -shall be an outcast from the land, that the plague may be stayed from -the people. Verily, my queen, my heart misgives me when I remember my -wrath and the deed that I wrought at the cross-roads." - -In vain she tried to comfort him, for a nameless fear had laid hold of -his heart. - -Now, while they were waiting for the herdsman to come, a messenger -arrived in haste from Corinth to say that Polybus was dead, and that -OEdipus was chosen king of the land, for his fame had gone out far -and wide as the slayer of the Sphinx and the wisest of the kings of -Hellas. When OEdipus heard the news, he bowed his head in sorrow to -hear of the death of the father he had loved, and turning to the -messenger, he said, - -"For many a long year my heart hath yearned toward him who is dead, -and verily my soul is grieved that I shall see him no more in the -pleasant light of the sun. But for the oracle's sake I stayed in -exile, that my hand might not be red with a father's blood. And now I -thank the gods that he has passed away in a green old age, in the -fulness of years and of honour." - -But the messenger wondered at his words. - -"Knewest thou not, then, that Polybus was no father to thee in the -flesh, but that for thy beauty and thy strength he chose thee out of -all the land to be a son to him and heir to the kingdom of Corinth?" - -"What sayest thou, bearer of ill news that thou art?" cried OEdipus. -"To prove that same tale of thine a slanderous lie I went to Delphi, -and there the priestess prophesied that I should slay mine own sire. -Wherefore I went not back to my native land, but have lived in exile -all my days." - -"Then in darkness of soul hast thou lived, O king. For with mine own -hands I received thee as a babe from a shepherd on dim Cithæron, from -one of the herdsmen of Laius, who was king before thee in this land." - -"Woe is me, then! The curse of the gods is over me yet. I know not my -sire, and unwittingly I may slay him and rue the evil day. And a cloud -of darkness hangeth over me for the slaying of King Laius. But lo! -they bring the herdsman who saw the deed done, and pray Heaven he may -clear me from all guilt. Bring him forward that I may question him." - -Then they brought the man forward before the king, though he shrank -back and tried to hide himself. When the messenger from Corinth saw -him he started back in surprise, for it was the very man from whose -hands he had taken OEdipus on the mountain-side. And he said to the -king, - -"Behold the man who will tell thee the secret of thy birth. From his -hands did I take thee as a babe on dim Cithæron." - -Then OEdipus questioned the man, and at first he denied it from -fear, but at last he was fain to confess. - -"And who gave me to thee to slay on the barren mountain-side?" - -"I pray thee, my king, ask no more. Some things there are that are -better unsaid." - -"Nay, tell me, and fear not. I care not if I am a child of shame and -slavery stains my birth. A son of Fortune the gods have made me, and -have given me good days with the evil. Speak out, I pray thee. Though -I be the son of a slave, I can bear it." - -"No son of a slave art thou, but seed of a royal house. Ask me no -more, my king." - -"Speak, speak, man. Thou drivest me to anger, and I will make thee -tell, though it be by force." - -"Ah! lay not cruel hands upon me. For thine own sake I would hide it. -From the queen thy mother I had thee, and thy father was--Laius the -king. At the cross-roads from Delphi didst thou meet him in his -chariot, and slew him unwittingly in thy wrath. Ah, woe is me! For the -gods have chosen me out to be an unwilling witness to the truth of -their oracles." - -Then a great hush fell upon all the people like the lull before a -storm. For the words of the herdsman were so strange and terrible that -at first they could scarce take in their meaning. But when they -understood that OEdipus was Laius's own son, and that he had -fulfilled the dreadful prophecy and slain his sire, a great tumult -arose, some saying one thing and some another; but the voice of -OEdipus was heard above the uproar, - -"Ah, woe is me, woe is me! The curse of the gods is upon me, and none -can escape their wrath. Blindly have I done this evil, and when I was -striving to escape Fate caught me in her hidden meshes. Oh, foolish -hearts of men, to think that ye can flee from the doom of the gods; -for lo! ye strive in the dark, and your very struggles bind you but -closer in the snare of your fate. Cast me from the land, ye people; do -with me what ye will. For the gods have made me a curse and a -pollution, and by my death alone will the land have rest from the -pestilence." - -And the people would have taken him at his word; for fickle is the -heart of the multitude, and swayed this way and that by every breath -of calamity. They were sore stricken, too, by the pestilence, and in -their wrath against the cause of it they forgot the slaying of the -Sphinx and the long days of peace and prosperity. But the blind seer -Teiresias rose up in their midst, and at his voice the people were -silent. - -"Citizens of Cadmus, foolish and blind of heart! Will ye slay the -saviour of your city? Have ye forgotten the man-devouring Sphinx and -the days of darkness? Verily prosperity blunteth the edge of -gratitude. And thou, OEdipus, curse not the gods for thine evil -fate. He that putteth his finger in the fire is burnt, whether he do -it knowingly or not. As to thy sire, him indeed didst thou slay in -ignorance; but the shedding of man's blood be upon thine own head, for -that was the fruit of thy wrathful spirit, which, through lack of -curbing, broke forth like an angry beast. Hadst thou never slain a -man, never wouldst thou have slain thy sire. But now thou art a -pollution to the land of thy birth, and by long exile and wandering -must thou expiate thy sin and die a stranger in a strange land. Yet -methinks that in the dark mirror of prophecy I see thy form, as it -were, a guardian to the land of thy last resting-place, and in a grove -of sacred trees thy spirit's lasting habitation, when thy feet have -accomplished the ways of expiation and the days of thy wandering are -done." - -So the people were silenced. But OEdipus would not be comforted, -and in his shame and misery he put out his own eyes because they had -looked on unspeakable things. Then he clothed himself in rags and took -a pilgrim's staff, to go forth alone upon his wanderings. And the -people were glad at his going, because the plague had hardened their -hearts, and they cared nothing for his grey hairs and sightless eyes, -nor remembered all he had done for them, but thought only how the -plague might be stayed. Even Eteocles and Polyneices, his own sons, -showed no pity, but would have let him go forth alone, that they might -live on the fatness of the land. For their hardness of heart they were -punished long after, when they quarrelled as to which should be king, -and brought down the flood of war upon Thebes, and fell each by the -other's hand in deadly strife. Of all his children, Antigone alone -refused to let him go forth a solitary wanderer, and would listen to -none of his entreaties when he spoke of the hardness of the way that -would lie before them. - -"Nay, father," she cried; "thinkest thou that I could suffer thee to -wander sightless and blind in thine old age with none to stay thy -feeble steps or lend thee the light of their eyes?" - -"The road before us is hard and long, my child, and no man can say -when my soul shall find rest. The ways of the world are cruel, and men -love not the cursed of the gods. As for thee, Heaven bless thee for -thy love; but thou art too frail and tender a thing to eat of the -bread and drink of the waters of sorrow." - -"Ah, father, thinkest thou that aught could be more bitter than to sit -in the seat of kings whilst thou wanderest a beggar on the face of -the earth? Nay, suffer me to go with thee, and stay thy steps in the -days of thy trial." - -Nothing he could say would dissuade her. So they two set out alone -upon their wanderings, the old man bowed down beneath the weight of -sorrow, and the young girl in the freshness of youth and beauty, with -a great love in her heart--a bright, burning love which was the light -by which she lived, and a light which never led her astray. For love -guided her into desolate places and through many a pathless -wilderness, and at length brought her in the flower of her maidenhood -to the very gates of death; yet when the cloud of earthly sorrow hung -darkest over her head, love it was that lifted the veil of doubt, and -cast about her name a halo of glory that will never fade. And all the -story of her love and how she buried her brother Polyneices, though -she knew it was death to cast so much as a handful of dust upon his -body, you may read in one of the noblest plays that has ever been -written. - -So she and OEdipus set out upon their wanderings. At first OEdipus -was filled with shame and bitterness, and cursed the day of his birth -and his evil fate; but as time went on he remembered the words of -Teiresias--how at his death he should be a blessing to the land of his -last resting-place; and the hope sprang up in his heart that the gods -had not forsaken him, but would wipe out the stain of his sin, and -make his name once more glorious among men. Daily this hope grew -stronger and brighter, and he felt that the days of wandering and -expiation were drawing to a close, and a mysterious power guided his -steps he knew not whither, except that it was towards the goal of his -release. So they wandered on across the Theban plain and over dim -Cithæron, till they came to the torch-lit strand of Eleusis and -Demeter's sacred shrine, and the broad plain of Rarus, where -Triptolemus first taught men to drive a furrow and sow the golden -grain. And they went along the Sacred Way which leads to Athens, with -the circling mountains on their left, and to the right the blue -Saronic Gulf and the peaks of sea-girt Salamis. And many a hero's -grave did they pass and many a sacred shrine, for all along that road -men of old raised monuments to the undying glory of the dead and the -heritage of honour which they left to unborn generations. And always -Antigone tended the old man's feeble steps, and lent him the light of -her young eyes, till at length they came to white Colonus and the -grove of the Eumenides. There she set him on a rock to rest his weary -limbs. And the soft spring breezes played about them, and the clear -waters of Cephisus flowed sparkling at their feet to the fertile plain -below. In the dark coverts and green glades the nightingale trilled -her sweet song, and the grass was bright with many a golden crocus and -white narcissus bloom. As he sat there a great calm filled the old -man's heart, for he felt that the days of his wandering were done. But -while they were resting a man from the village happened to pass, and -when he saw them he shouted out, - -"Ho! there, impious wanderers, know ye not that ye sit on sacred land -and trespass on hallowed ground?" - -Then OEdipus knew more surely than ever that the day of his release -had come. - -"Oh, stranger!" he cried, "welcome is that which thou sayest. For -here shall the words of the prophet be fulfilled, when he said that in -a grove of sacred trees my spirit should find rest." - -But the man was not satisfied, and he called to a band of his -countrymen who were in the fields close by. And they came up and spoke -roughly to OEdipus, and asked his name and business. When he told -them they were filled with horror, for all men had heard of the -slaying of Laius, and they would have turned him out by force. But -OEdipus raised himself from the rock on which he was seated, and in -spite of his beggar's rags and sightless eyes, there was a majesty -about his face and form that marked him as no common man. - -"Men of Colonus," he said, "ye judge by the evil I have done, and not -by the good. Have ye forgotten the days when the name of OEdipus was -honoured throughout the land? Of a truth the days of darkness came, -and the stain of my sin found me out. But now is my wrathful spirit -curbed, and the gods will make me once more a blessing to men. Go, -tell your king Theseus, who rules in Athena's sacred citadel, that -OEdipus is here, and bid him come with all speed if he would win a -guardian for this land, an everlasting safeguard for his city in days -of storm and stress." - -So they sent off a messenger in hot haste, for there was a mysterious -power about the aged wanderer that none could withstand. And soon -Theseus arrived, himself a mighty hero, who had made Athens a great -city and rid the country of many a foul pestilence. And he greeted -OEdipus courteously and kindly, as befitted a great prince, and -offered him hospitality. But OEdipus said, - -"The hospitality I crave, O king, is for no brief sojourn in this -land. Nay, 'tis an everlasting home I ask. For the hand of Heaven is -upon me, and full well I know that this day my soul shall leave this -frail and broken body. And to thee alone is it given to know where my -bones shall rest--to thee and thy seed after thee. As long as my bones -shall remain in the land, so long shall my spirit watch over it, and -men shall call upon my name to turn the tide of battle and stay the -flood of pestilence and war. Wilt thou come with me, O king, whither -the gods shall lead, and learn the secret of my grave?" - -Then Theseus bowed his head, and answered, - -"Show thou the way, and I will come." - -So OEdipus turned and led the way into the grove, and Theseus and -Antigone followed after. For a mysterious power seemed to guide him, -and he walked as one who could see, and his steps were strong and firm -as those of a man in his prime. Straight into the grove did he go till -they came to the heart of the wood, where there was a sacred well -beneath a hollow pear-tree. Close by was a great chasm going deep down -into the bowels of the earth, and men called it the Gate of Hades, the -Kingdom of the Dead. Here, too, the Awful Goddesses were worshipped -under a new and gentler name. For after they had driven the murderer -Orestes up and down the land for his sin, he came at length to Athens -to stand his trial before gods and men. And mercy tempered justice and -released him from blood-guiltiness, and the Furies laid aside their -wrath and haunted him no more. So the people of Athens built them -shrines and sanctuaries, and worshipped them as Eumenides, the Kindly -Maidens. And now once more a wanderer was to find rest there from his -sin. - -When they reached the well, OEdipus sat down upon a rock and called -his daughter to his side, and said, - -"Antigone, my child, thy hand hath ministered to me in exile, and -smoothed the path for the wanderer's feet. Go now, fetch water, and -pour libation and drink-offering to the gods below. It is the last -thing thou canst do for me on earth." - -So Antigone fetched water from the well, and dressed and tended him, -and poured libation to the gods. And when she had finished, OEdipus -drew her to him and kissed her tenderly, and said, - -"Grieve not for me, my child. Well I know that thy heart will ache, -for love hath made light the burden of toil. But for me life's day is -done, and I go to my rest. Do thou seek thy brethren, and be to them -as thou hast been to me. My child, my child, hard is the way that lies -before thee, and my soul yearneth over thee for the evil day that -shall come. But look thou to thine own pure heart, on which the gods -have set the seal of truth that changeth not with passing years, and -heed not the counsels of men." - -And he held her closely to him, and she clung weeping about his neck. -As they sat a hush fell upon the grove, and the nightingales ceased -their song, and from the depths of the grove a voice was heard like -the voice of distant thunder. - -"OEdipus, OEdipus, why dost thou tarry?" - -When they heard it they were afraid. But OEdipus rose up and gently -put his daughter from him, saying, - -[Illustration: "With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, -and Theseus followed after."] - -"Lo! the voice of Zeus, who calleth me. Fare thee well, my child; thou -canst go no further with me. For Theseus only is it meet to see the -manner of my death, and he and I must go forward alone into the wood." - -With firm, unfaltering steps he led the way once more, and Theseus -followed after. And what happened there none can tell, for Theseus -kept the secret to his dying day. But men say that when he came out of -the wood his face was as the face of one who had seen things passing -mortal speech. As for OEdipus, the great twin Brethren Sleep and -Death carried his bones to Athens, where the people built him a -shrine, and for many a long year they honoured him as a hero in the -land of Attica. For though the sin that he sinned in his wrath and -ignorance was great and terrible, yet his life had brought joy to many -men and prosperity to more lands than one. For with wisdom and love he -guided his days, and with sorrow and tears he wiped out the stain of -his sin, so that, in spite of all he suffered, men love to tell of the -glory and wisdom of OEdipus, and of how he solved the riddle of the -Sphinx. - - - - -Eros and Psyche - - -I - -In the blue waters of the Ægean Sea, midway between Greece and Egypt, -lies the fertile land of Crete. Here, long, long ago, when the gods -still walked on earth in human form and the sons of men were as -children playing in a fair garden, there ruled a king who was the -father of three lovely daughters. They lived in a palace in the rich -Omphalian plain, beneath the shade of snow-capped Ida, surrounded by -smiling gardens and fruitful vineyards, with a glimpse, away to the -southward, of the sparkling Mediterranean Sea. So great was the beauty -of these three maidens that their fame went abroad throughout all the -land, and wealthy wooers flocked from far and wide to win their hands -in marriage. The two elder sisters soon became the brides of two great -princes, and were well content to pass their days in the sunshine of -their husbands' love and admiration, and to deck themselves with gold -and jewels, and listen to the praise of their beauty upon the lips of -men. For the gods had given them grace of form and feature, but their -souls within were vain and foolish, so that in after-years, when they -found their sister more blessed than they, their vanity and envy -brought them to an evil end. - -The youngest sister, whose name was Psyche, continued to live on at -home long after the other two were married. In face and form she was -as fair as they, whilst her soul within was so pure and beautiful that -it shed a heavenly radiance about her, so that when men looked into -her face all thoughts of love and wooing died out of their hearts, and -they worshipped her as one of the Immortals. Wherever she passed -voices were hushed and heads were bowed in prayer, till at length it -was rumoured that Aphrodite herself, the Queen of Love, had come to -live with men. The temples stood deserted and the altars bare of -sacrifice, and from far and wide men flocked to Psyche with gifts and -garlands and songs of praise. - -Then foam-born Aphrodite, Queen of Love, was filled with jealousy and -wrath that a mortal should usurp her place and name, and she cast -about in her mind for some means of revenge. - -"Verily, I must make this Cretan maiden rue the day when first men -laid my offerings at her feet. I will smite her with so dire a malady -that her very beauty shall be turned to scorn, and the heights to -which her impious pride hath raised her shall be as nought to the -depths of her shame and misery." - -Thereupon she sent for her son, the great god Eros, who lords it over -gods and men. The poison of his fiery darts none can withstand, and -with him it rests to burn men's hearts with the fever of unsatisfied -desire, or so to temper the venom of his shafts that it runs like -heavenly nectar through the veins. Yet the joy that he gives withal is -akin to madness, and the torture of his wrath a frenzy unquenchable. - -"Best-beloved son," she said, "if thou carest aught for thy mother's -name and fame, thou wilt hasten now to do my bidding. In midmost Crete -there dwells a maid--Psyche by name--whose impious pride hath cast -dishonour on my godhead. The offerings that are mine by right are cast -before her feet. My temples stand devoid of worshippers, who flock to -pay her court; and all this not in Crete alone, but from the farthest -shores of Hellas men cross the sea in white-winged ships to gaze upon -her face. Go now, I pray thee, and smite her with a poisoned arrow -from thy bow. Make her to love some loathly monster, deformed in soul -and body, and with a passion so shameless and all-consuming that men -shall spurn her, even as now they haste to pay their vows. As thou -lovest me, go with all speed and do my bidding." - -So Eros sped away to fulfil Aphrodite's command, and plant in the -heart of Psyche the image of a dark and dreadful monster, and make her -love it. As she slept he came and stood beside her, armed with his bow -and poisoned arrows. But when he looked upon her his arm fell lifeless -by his side, and the arrows slipped out of his hand, for never had he -looked on one so fair; and her beauty smote his heart as surely as -ever one of his own shafts had pierced a mortal's breast. From that -moment he loved her with all his soul, and swore that no harm should -ever come to her through him, but that he himself and no other, -whether man or monster, should be her bridegroom. And he picked up the -arrow and put it back into the sheath. - -"If she can trust me," he said, "she shall never feel a wound from one -of these. I will carry her away, and she shall be mine; but till the -gods are reconciled that I should wed a mortal, and my mother's anger -is appeased, I must visit her only in the night-time, and she must not -know who I am nor see my face. When the gods have proved her and found -her worthy of me, then will I reveal myself to her, and through my -love she shall be immortal, and dwell with me for ever in the shining -courts of heaven." - -And he bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She smiled in her -sleep and held out her arms towards him, and he knew that his kiss had -kindled in her heart the light of love. - -Aphrodite, meanwhile, with her mind at rest, took her way along the -shell-strewn curve of a sandy bay, and laughing ripples made music at -her feet. The Sun was slowly sinking to his bed in Ocean's stream, and -Night rode in her crescent car across the calm green vault of heaven. -From Aphrodite's feet a broad gold path of light led straight to the -sunset realms of Helios, the sun-god, and as she waited on the shore, -a band of dolphins ploughed the sea towards her. In their wake came -Tritons blowing on soft-voiced conches, and some drew a pearly shell -behind and pushed it to the shore and bade her enter. - -"Great Helios bids thee to his midnight revelry, O Queen of Love," -they cried, "and we are come to guide thee along the golden pathway -to the glowing palaces of Sunset Land." - -As the goddess stepped into the shell, they blew a loud salute upon -their conches, and spread a silken sail above her head, and with music -and laughter they crossed the shining sea to the golden halls of -Helios. - - -II - -Psyche, meanwhile, all unconscious of the wrath she had kindled in the -breast of Aphrodite, was pining away at home in loneliness of heart. -Little did she care for the worship that men paid her or for the -offerings that they laid at her feet. It was for the love of a husband -that she longed, and her soul was starving in the midst of rich gifts -and the rapt, adoring gaze of worshippers. Her melancholy fastened on -the king her father, and on all the palace, and soothsayers and augurs -crowded round the doors with omens, charms, and riddling words, and -prophesied all manner of evil. - -At last the king could bear it no longer, and he set forth on -pilgrimage to Apollo's shrine at Delphi, and made question of the -oracle. - -"Have the gods ordained that Psyche, my daughter, should die unwed, -though the fairest maid on earth, or doth some bridegroom await her -who tarrieth long? O god of Light, reveal his name, and save my child -from death." - -Then the tripod shook, and from the midst of the incense and vapour -the priestess made reply, - -"Think not of marriage-songs, O king, or bridal torches. On a lonely -rock on snow-clad Ida must thou leave thy child, the bride of no -mortal man. But a savage monster shall come, the terror of gods and -men, and shall bear her away to his own land, and thine eyes shall see -her no more. Wherefore make ready the funeral feast. Bring forth your -sable robes of mourning, and bid the minstrels raise a dirge for the -dead. For so the gods have willed it." - -So the king went sadly home, and his heart was heavy within him. And -all the people mourned with him; for they loved the fair princess, -with her beautiful sad face and her kind and noble heart. All manner -of tales went abroad of the monster she must wed, some saying one -thing and some another. But most men thought it must be Talus, the -great giant who guarded Crete. Three times every day did he walk round -the island, and woe to any stranger who fell in his path or tried to -land when he was by. For from top to toe he was made of burning -metal--gold and silver and bronze and iron--while through his body ran -one single vein that was filled with fire and fastened in his head -with a nail. If any man tried to thwart him, he would gather him up in -his great bronze arms and hold him to his breast, red-hot with the -fire in his vein, and when he was well cooked through he would devour -him. Many a long year after, when Jason sailed by with the heroes of -the Golden Fleece, Talus rushed down, and would have stopped them from -watering their ship, and have turned them adrift on the salt seas to -be tortured to death with thirst. But Medea, Jason's dark witch-wife, -beguiled him with fair promises, and made him cool his burning body in -the sea before she would come near. Then when she had him under her -spells she softly drew the nail from his head, and the fire flowed -forth from his vein, and all his strength departed, and he died with a -curse on his lips for Medea and her wiles. But she only laughed aloud, -and bade Jason water the ship and thank the immortal gods that he had -a witch-woman to wife. That, however, was long after, and Talus was -now in the prime of life, and the terror of all the country-side. - -Meanwhile, the land was plunged in mourning, and in the palace all was -bustle and confusion in preparation for the funeral rites. All day -long the old king sat in his chamber, and looked out towards the -lonely heights of Ida, where his daughter was to be left. - -"Better that she should die in her maidenhood," he cried, "than wed -this terrible monster." - -Psyche alone in all the palace was calm, and tried to comfort her -father. - -"Sire," she said, as she put her arms about his neck, "to look on thy -tears is to me more bitter than my fate. Weep not for me, for -something within me bids me take comfort, and I hear a sweet voice -say, 'Rejoice, beloved, and come with me.' Dark was that day, my -father, when first men laid their offerings at my feet, and my heart -dwelt apart in its loneliness. And now, if but for one day I may look -upon the face of my bridegroom, I would gladly die. For, methinks, it -is no monster I must wed." - -But the king thought only of the words of the oracle, and would not be -comforted. - -At length the bridal day dawned, and the sad procession wound slowly -from the palace towards Ida. Choruses of singers led the way with -solemn dirges for the dead, and the king, uncrowned, followed with his -nobles clad in armour and holding blazing torches in their hands. Next -came Psyche, all in white, with a bridal veil and garlands, and -surrounded by white-robed maidens; and last of all the people of the -city followed with loud wailing and lamentation. Up the steep mountain -road they went, and the path grew rougher and narrower step by step. -On either side the dark rocks frowned down upon them, and echoed to -and fro the wailings of the people as they passed, and above them the -snow-capped peak of Ida stood out against the summer sky, like a -lonely sentinel keeping watch over the plain below. Slowly the shadows -of the rocks lengthened across the barren slopes, and the funeral -torches shone pale in the glowing sunset light. At last they reached -the appointed place beneath the unmelting snow, and on the barren rock -they set the maiden, and bade her a sorrowful good-bye. Ever and anon -they turned back to look on her as they wound down the mountain-track, -and always she waved to them a fond farewell. At length the shadows -fell on all the mountain-side, and only the snow-clad peak flashed -like a ruby in the last rays of the sun, and as they looked backward -for the last time they saw Psyche transformed in the golden light. Her -white dress shone like a rainbow, and her golden hair fell about her -shoulders like a stream of fire, and as she raised her arm to wave to -them she looked like no mortal maid, but a goddess in all her beauty, -so that the people hushed their voices and bowed their heads before -her. Soon the light faded, and they could see her no more. Sadly they -went their way, and all down the mountain-track and across the plain -below the torches shone out like pale twinkling stars in the darkness. - -Psyche, meanwhile, left alone, pondered sadly on her fate, and -wondered what the night would bring. And as she sat and pondered, a -soft breeze played about her, filling her veil and robe, and gently -she felt herself lifted from the rock and borne through the air, till -she was laid down upon a grassy bank sweet with the scent of thyme and -violets. Here a deep sleep fell upon her, and she knew no more. - - -III - -Day was dawning when Psyche awoke, and high up in the bright air the -larks were singing their morning hymn to the sun, and calling on bird -and beast and flower to awake and rejoice in the glad daylight. At -first she could remember nothing of what had happened, and wondered -where she was; then slowly all the sad ceremony of the day before came -back to her--the funeral procession up Mount Ida, the lonely rock on -which she had been left, and the soft west wind that had borne her -away. So she rose up from the green bank on which she had slept all -night, and looked round about her to see what manner of land she was -in. - -She found herself standing on a hillock in the midst of a fertile -plain. Steep cliffs rose up on every side as though to guard the -peaceful valley, and keep out any evil thing that would enter in. To -the eastward only was there a break in the mountain-chain, and the -dale widened out towards the sea. As Psyche gazed, the golden disc of -the sun rose slowly from the water, and his bright rays lit up the -grey morning sky and scattered the silvery mist that hung about the -tree-tops. On either side of her was a wood, with a green glade -between sloping up towards a marble temple, which flashed like a jewel -in the rays of the rising sun. And Psyche was filled with wonder at -the sight, for it seemed too fair to be the work of human hands. - -"Surely," she thought, "it must be the handiwork of the lame fire-god -Hephæstos, for he buildeth for the immortal gods, who sit on high -Olympus, and none can vie with him in craft and skill." - -Then she looked about her to see if anyone were near. But all around -was quiet and still, with no signs of human habitation. Wondering the -more, she drew near to the temple, and went up the marble stairs that -led to the entrance. When she reached the top her shadow fell upon the -golden gate, and, as she stood doubting what to do, they slowly turned -on their hinges, and opened to her of their own accord, and she walked -through them into the temple. She found herself in a marble court -surrounded by pillars and porticoes which re-echoed the soft music of -a fountain in the midst. Through the open doors of the further -colonnade she caught a glimpse of cool dark rooms, with carvings of -cedar-wood and silver and silken hangings. And now the air was filled -with music and sweet voices calling her by name. - -"Psyche, lady Psyche, all is thine. Enter in." - -So she took courage and entered. All day long she wandered about the -enchanted palace discovering fresh wonders at every step. Even before -she knew it the mysterious voices seemed to guess every wish of her -heart. When she would rest they led her to a soft couch. When she was -hungry they placed a table before her spread with every dainty. They -led her to the bath, and clothed her in the softest silks, and all the -while the air was filled with songs and music. - -All this time she had not said a word, for she feared she might drive -away the kindly voices that ministered to her. But at last she could -keep silence no longer. - -"Am I a goddess," she asked, "or is this to be dead? Do those who pass -the gates of Death feel no change, nor suffer for what they have done, -but have only to wish for a thing to gain their heart's desire?" - -The voices gave her never a word in answer, but led her to the chamber -where her couch was spread with embroidered coverlets. The walls all -round were covered with curious paintings, telling of the deeds of -gods and heroes--how golden Aphrodite loved Ares, the god of War, and -Apollo the nymph Daphne, whom he changed into a laurel-tree that never -fades. There was Ariadne, too, upon her island, whom the young god -Dionysus found and comforted in her sore distress; and Adonis, the -beautiful shepherd, the fairest of mortal men. - -Psyche, tired out by all the wonders she had seen during the day, sank -down upon her couch, and was soon asleep. But sleep had not long -sealed her lids before she was awakened by a stir in the room. The -curtain over her head rustled as though someone were standing beside -her. She lay still, almost fainting with terror, scarcely daring to -breathe, when she heard a voice softly call her by name. - -"Psyche, my own, my beloved, at last I have got thee, my dear one." - -And two strong arms were round her and a kiss upon her lips. Then she -knew that at last the bridegroom she had waited for so long had come -to claim her, and in her happiness she cared not to know who he was, -but was content to feel his arms about her and hear her name upon his -lips. And so she fell asleep again. When she awoke in the morning her -first thought was to look on the face of the husband who had come in -the dark night, but nowhere could she find him. All the day she passed -in company of the mysterious voices who had ministered to her before; -but though their kindness and courtesy was never failing, she wandered -disconsolately about the empty halls, longing for the night-time, and -wondering whether her lover would come again. As soon as it was dark -she went again to her chamber, and there once more he came to her and -swore that she was his for evermore, and that nothing should part -them. But always he left her before it was light and came to her again -when night had fallen, so that she never saw his face nor knew what he -was like. Yet so well did she love and trust him that she never cared -to ask him his secret. So the days and nights sped swiftly by, for in -the daylight Psyche found plenty to amuse her in the enchanted palace -and garden, and she did not think of loneliness when every night she -could hold sweet converse with her beloved. - -But one evening when he came to her he was troubled, and said, - -"Psyche, my dear one, great danger threatens us, and I must needs ask -thee somewhat that shall grieve thy tender heart." - -"Mine own lord," she said, "what can there be that I would not gladly -do for thee?" - -"Well do I know, beloved, that thou wouldst give thy life for me. But -that which I ask will grieve thee sore, for thou must refuse the boon -thy sisters shall ask thee." - -"My sisters! They know not where I am. How, then, can they ask me a -boon?" - -"Even now they stand upon the lonely rock where thou wast left for me, -to see if they can find thee or learn aught of thy fate. And they will -call thee by name through the echoing rocks, but thou must answer them -never a word." - -"What, my lord! wouldst thou have my sisters go home disconsolate, -thinking that I am dead? Nay, surely, thou wouldst not be so hard of -heart? But let me bid the soft west wind, that wafted me hither, bring -them too, that they may look upon my happiness and take back the -tidings to mine aged sire." - -"Psyche, thou knowest not what thou askest. Foolish of heart are thy -sisters, and they love the trappings and outward show of woe, and with -their mourning they wring their father's aching heart till he can bear -it no more. So he hath sent them forth to see whether they can hear -aught of thy fate. And, full of their own hearts' shallow grief, they -seek thee on the mountain-side, thinking to find thy bones bleaching -in the rays of the sun. Were they to see thy happiness, their hearts -would be filled with envy and malice. They would speak evil of me, and -taunt thee on thine unknown lord, and bid thee look upon my face and -see lest I be some foul monster. And Psyche, mine own wife, the night -that thou seest my face shall be the night that shall part us for -evermore, and thy first look shall be thy last. Therefore answer them -not, I pray thee, but stay with me and be my bride." - -And Psyche was troubled at these words, for she thought her husband -wronged her sisters. Nevertheless, unwilling to displease him, she -said, - -"I will do thy will, my lord, even as thou sayest." - -Yet all the day long she thought on her sisters wandering on the bleak -mountain-side, and how they would call for her by name, and at length -go sadly home to her father's house and bring no comfort. The more she -thought on it the sadder she became, and when her husband came to her, -her face was wet with tears. In vain he tried to comfort her. She only -sobbed the more. - -"All my joy is turned to bitterness," she said, "when I think on the -grief that bows down my father's heart. If but for one day I could -bring my sisters here and show them my happiness, they would bear the -news to him, and in my joy he would be happy too. Let them but come -and look at this fair home of mine, and surely it will not harm me or -thee, my dear lord?" - -"I have not the heart to refuse thee, Psyche," he said, "though it -goeth against me to grant this. I fear that evil will come. If they -ask thee of me, answer them not." - -Psyche was overjoyed at his consent, and thanked him, and put her arms -about his neck and said, - -"My dearest lord, all thou sayest I will do. For wert thou Eros, the -god of Love himself, I could not love thee more." - - -IV - -The next day, when Psyche was left alone, she went out into the valley -to see whether she could hear her sisters calling her. And sure -enough, she had not gone far, when high up above her head, from the -top of the cliff, she heard her name, "Psyche, O Psyche! where art -thou?" At this she was overjoyed, - -"O gentle Zephyr!" she called, "O fair west wind! waft, oh, waft my -sisters to me!" - -Scarcely had she said the words than she saw her sisters gently borne -down from the cliff above and set upon the ground beside her. She fell -upon their necks and kissed them. - -"Ah, my dear sisters," she cried, "how happy am I to see you! Welcome -to my new home. See, I am not tortured, as you thought. Nay, my life -is bliss, as you shall see for yourselves. Come, enter in with me." - -And she took them by the hand and led them through the golden gates. -The ministering voices played soft music in the air, and a rich feast -was spread before them. All through the palace Psyche led them, and -showed them all her treasures, and brought out her choicest jewels, -and bade them choose out and keep as many as they wished. - -All this time, though there was no corner of the palace that she kept -hidden from them, she spoke no word of her mysterious husband. At -length they could contain their curiosity no longer, and one made bold -to ask her, - -"Psyche, thou livest not here alone, of a surety. Yet where is thy -lord? All thy treasures hast thou shown us, but him, the giver of -all, we have not seen. Who is he, then? Surely he, whom the winds and -bodiless voices obey, must be a god, and no mortal man. Tell us of -him, we pray thee." - -And Psyche remembered her husband's warning. - -"My lord," she said, "is a huntsman bold, and over hill and dale he -rides this day after the swift-footed stag. As fair as the dawn is he, -and the first down of youth is on his cheek. All through the hours of -sunlight he goeth forth to the chase, and at eventime he returneth to -me." - -It was now close on night, and the shadows fell long across the cool -green lawns of the garden. Psyche bethought her that it was high time -for her sisters to go, before they could ply her with questions. So, -kissing them farewell, and sending many a loving message to the king -her father, she called on Zephyr to waft them away to the top of the -cliff. - -Hitherto the surprise and wonder at all they had seen and heard had -filled the minds of the two sisters. But when they found themselves -once more alone upon the barren mountain-slopes, they had leisure to -think and compare their lot with that of their sister. Before they had -seen her golden halls they had been quite content with their own -palaces. But these now seemed humble beside the splendours they had -just left. Their shallow hearts were quite filled up with the image of -themselves, and they had no room left for their sister. But now her -good fortune forced the remembrance of her upon them, and they were -filled with an envy and jealousy of her which conquered even their -love for themselves. They could not be content to return once more to -their homes, and receive the homage of their husbands and their -households. Their one thought was how they might spoil her happiness. -For the hatred that is born of self-love is an all-consuming passion -that burns up every kind and noble thought, as a forest fire burns up -the tall trees that stand in the path of its fury. - -"How cruel and unjust," cried one, "that she, the youngest, should be -blest so far above us both. My lord is a very beggar to him who giveth -Psyche her golden halls to dwell in." - -"Yea, and mine is an old man by the side of this beardless youth. -Sister, thy grief and mine are one. Side by side let us work, and -verily her cunning shall be great if she can avail against us and keep -her ill-gotten wealth." - -"Thou sayest well. 'Twas from pride that she welcomed us to her halls -to flaunt her riches before us. Sister, I am with thee. Quickly let us -plan some plot to unrobe this upstart maiden of her vaunted godhead." - -Whereupon they agreed together to bring their father no word of -Psyche's happiness. They tore their robes and loosed their hair, as -though all this while they had been wandering over the rough mountain -rocks. - -"Ah, sire," they cried, "how can we tell thee the evil tidings? -Nowhere can we find our sister, or any trace of her. Verily, the -oracle lieth not, and she is the bride of some fell monster." - -Their cruel words smote their father to the heart, and quenched the -feeble spark of hope that still burned in his breast. And when all -hope leaves the heart of man, life leaves him, too. So the old king -died, and his blood was on the hands of his own children, and one day -they paid the penalty with their lives. - -Meanwhile, Psyche lived on in the happy valley in blissful content. -Her husband would often warn her that her sisters were plotting her -ruin, but she would listen to nothing against them. At last one night -he said, - -"Psyche, to-morrow thy sisters will seek thee once again. This time -they will not wait for Zephyr to bear them down, but, trusting -themselves to the barren air, they will hurl themselves from the -cliff, and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Leave them to their -fate. 'Twill be due penalty for their crime, and 'tis the only way -that we can be saved, beloved." - -"My lord," cried Psyche, "thy cruelty would kill my love for thee, -were it not immortal. But, in very truth, all my joy would be slain -did I know that my sisters were killed when I could have saved them. -Oh, dearest husband, by the love that makes us one, I beseech thee, -send Zephyr once more to bear my sisters hither." - -And she sobbed so pitifully and prayed so earnestly that once again he -had not the heart to refuse. - -So about noontide the next day Psyche heard loud knocking and cries at -the door, and she hastened to open it herself to her sisters. Again -she kissed them, and bade them welcome, and they deceived her with -flattery and honeyed words, and when she was off her guard one said, - -"Come, tell us, Psyche, thy husband's name. Among the immortal gods, -where doth he take his place, and why is he not here to greet us?" - -"My husband," she replied, "is a rich merchant. Many a long year hath -it taken to build up all the fortune you behold, for already the hair -about his temples is touched with snow. And this day hath he gone a -long journey to a distant town in search of rich merchandise, and he -returneth not till the setting of the sun." - -Then quickly she called on Zephyr to bear them away before they could -ply her with questions. - -When her husband came that night he was more troubled than before, and -begged her to see them no more, but let them be dashed to death on the -rocks if they troubled her again. Her pure heart, however, would -believe no evil of them; and in this one thing she disobeyed her lord. - - -V - -Meanwhile, the second visit of the sisters to Psyche in her beautiful -home had but served to add fuel to the fire of their envy. When they -remembered her confusion and the different tales she had told them -about her unknown lord, jealousy whispered in their ears that all her -happiness depended on the keeping of her secret, and that secret they -straightway determined to know. - -"'Tis a strange lord, methinks," said one, "who in the waxing and -waning of a single moon doth change from a beardless boy to a grave -and reverend merchant whose hair is touched with snow." - -"True, sister. And therein lieth the secret of her happiness. Her -lying tale but proves that she hath never seen her lord. And verily, -he who would hide his face from the queen of his heart must be some -child of the Immortals, whose love for an earth-born maid must be hid -from gods and men." - -"Yea, and they who are loved of the Immortals are themselves immortal, -too, and their seed after them. Truly, sister, that Psyche should be a -goddess is more than I can bear." - -"I feel with thee! It is not meet that the youngest should have all. -Let us invent some lying tale which shall make her look upon her lord, -and break the spell which binds him to her." - -"What sayest thou to the words of the oracle that doomed her to wed a -monster? Let us go to her and say that now we know this to be true, -and beg her to flee from a fate so vile." - -So once more they trusted themselves to Zephyr, for Psyche had -prevailed upon her lord to promise that, so long as her sisters should -do her no harm, Zephyr should always be waiting to carry them to and -fro from her. - -Early the next day she was aroused from sleep by the sound of weeping -and lamentation at her door, and she hastened to meet her sisters, -fearing some ill news. And they fell upon her neck, crying, - -"Alas, alas, for thine evil fate!" - -"Mine evil fate, sisters? What mean ye? All is well with me." - -"Ah, so thou thinkest in thine heart's innocence. Even so falleth the -dove a victim to the hawk that wheeleth above." - -"What talk is this of doves and hawks? Come, my sisters, weep no more, -for in this pleasant vale even the winds of heaven breathe gently on -me, so good and great is my lord who commandeth them." - -"Thy lord! Hast ever seen his face, child, that thou callest him good -and great?" - -"Nay," she answered, blushing to think that they had guessed her -secret, "'tis true I have not seen his face, but what need to look -upon him when all around me breathes of his love for me?" - -"Hast never heard tell of foul monsters that wed with the daughters of -men, and come to them only in the night season, when the darkness can -hide their deformity? They cast a spell about their victims, and by -their wiles and enchantments they make all things about them seem -fair. But one day, when they have had their fill, and tire of the maid -they have won, lo! at a word the pleasant palaces and gardens vanish -into air, and she is left all ashamed and deserted, and scorned by -gods and men. Ah, sister, be warned by those who wish thee well, and -flee from thy vile lot ere all is lost. Even yesterday, when we left -thee, we saw a monstrous shape that glided after us through the wood, -and we fled in terror, knowing it was thy lord, who would not have us -near thee. Come with us now, and be saved." - -When Psyche heard their words she was very troubled. Truly, 'twas -strange that her lord should be loath for her to see her sisters, -unless, indeed, it was even as they said, and she was the prey of some -terrible beast. Yet his kind and loving words and his tender thought -for her welfare and all the beauty that surrounded her gave the lie to -such a thought. - -"My dear sisters," she cried, "I thank you for your loving fears for -me, but it cannot be as you say. Though I have never looked upon my -lord, these fair halls and gardens do but mirror forth the beauty of -his soul, and I know that he is true." - -"Then why doth he hide his face? At least, if thou wilt not flee with -us now, do but put him to the test when he comes this night. A glimpse -at his form will tell thee that our tale is true; and if by some -strange chance it be not so, what harm can one glance do?" - -Thus they tempted her, and made her doubt her lord, though sore -against her will. So it often happens that the pure of heart are -tortured by the doubts which the wicked plant in their breasts. As -little does a young bird in the greenwood suspect the hunter's snare -as did Psyche in her loving innocence suspect the malicious envy of -her sisters. - -But they were filled with joy at the success of their plot, and when -Zephyr had borne them to the top of the cliff they could contain their -gladness no longer, but fell upon each other's necks and kissed and -danced for glee. - -But Psyche at their bidding made ready to look upon her lord that -night. Under a chair she placed a lighted lamp in readiness, and -shrouded it about, that the light might not shine into the room and -betray her purpose. Trembling she went to bed that night, for she -hated the deed she must do. At the usual hour her lord came and spoke -lovingly to her, and kissed her, but her words died away upon her -lips, and she shuddered at his embrace. In time he fell asleep, and -his breathing was gentle and even as that of a child sweetly dreaming -in its innocence of heart. Then she rose up silently in the dead of -night, and walking softly to the chair, she took the lamp from -beneath and turned on tiptoe to the bed. High above her head she held -the light, that the rays might fall more gently on him as he slept, -and with bated breath she drew near and looked on him. As she looked, -the blood rushed headlong through her veins, and her heart beat fast -within her, and her limbs seemed turned to water as she bent forward -to look more closely. For on the bed, wrapped in deep slumber, lay no -terrible monster, as she feared, but the youngest and fairest of the -Immortals--Eros, the great god of Love. The gleam of his golden locks -was as sunshine on the summer sea, and his limbs like the eddying -foam. From his shoulders sprang two mighty wings bright as the -rainbow, and by his side lay his quiver and darts. As he moved -restlessly in the light of the lamp she heard her name upon his lips. -With a low cry she fell on her knees beside him, and as she did so her -arm grazed the point of an arrow placed heedlessly in the sheath. The -poison ran like liquid fire through her veins, and set her heart -aflame, and with blazing cheeks she bent over and kissed him on the -lips. As she did so the lamp trembled in her hand, and a drop of the -burning oil fell upon his shoulder, and he started up and found her -bending over him. - -"Ah, wretched, wretched Psyche!" he cried; "what hast thou done? -Couldst thou not trust me, who gave thee all the happiness thou hast -ever known?" - -"My lord, my lord, forgive me! I would but prove to my sisters by mine -own eyes' witness that thou wert not the monster that they dreaded." - -"Thrice foolish maid! Knowest thou not that doubt driveth away love? -Did I not tell thee that thy first look would be thy last? From a -terrible fate I saved thee when Aphrodite bade me strike thee with my -shaft and make thee love some terrible beast. When I went forth to do -her bidding thy grace and beauty conquered me, and I took thee away to -be my bride; and in time, hadst thou proved worthy, my mother and all -the great gods that rule above would have forgiven me, and shed on -thee the gift of immortality, to live with me for ever in the courts -of heaven. But now all is lost, and I must leave thee." - -[Illustration: "On the bed, wrapped in slumber, lay the youngest and -fairest of the Immortals."] - -"Ah, my lord, great is my sin, but I love thee, and my soul is thine. -Over the whole wide world would I wander, or be slave to the meanest -of men, so be it I could find thee again. Ah, dearest lord! tell me -not that all hope is gone." - -One moment he was silent, as though doubting her. Then he answered, - -"One way there lieth before thee, if thy courage prove greater than -thy faith--one only way, by which thou canst reach me--the long rough -path of trial and sorrow. Heaven and earth shall turn against thee; -for men win not immortality for a sigh. Yet will I help thee all I -may. In thine own strength alone thou wouldst faint and die by the -way, but for every step thou takest I will give thee strength for two. -And now farewell! I can tell thee no more, neither linger beside thee. -Fare thee well, fare thee well." - -As he vanished from her eyes Psyche fell senseless on the floor, and -for many a long hour she lay there, hearing and seeing nothing, as -though life itself had fled. - - -VI - -Meanwhile the two sisters were waiting in a frenzy of impatience to -know whether success had crowned their evil plot. If the doubt they -had planted in Psyche's breast had borne fruit, and she had dared to -disobey her lord, they knew full well that all her happiness would -have vanished like a dream. Yet, fearing the anger of him whom the -winds of heaven obeyed, they dared not trust themselves to Zephyr, who -had carried them down before. So they wandered restlessly from room to -room, and peered from the windows, hoping that Psyche in her misery -would come to them and beg for succour in her evil plight. There was -nothing they would have loved better than to spurn her from their -doors and taunt her on the retribution which had fallen on her vanity. -But all day long they waited, and yet she came not, so that at length -they parted and went each one to her couch. - -But the night was hot and sultry, and the eldest sister lay on her bed -and tossed restlessly from side to side, and could not sleep. At -length she went to the casement and drew aside the curtain and looked -out on the starry night, and when she had cooled her burning brow she -went back to her couch. Just as she was about to fall asleep she felt -a shadow pass between her and the light from the window, and she -opened her eyes, and her heart beat fast; for straight in the path of -the moonbeams stood Eros, the great god of Love, and his wings stood -out black against the starlit sky as he leant on his golden bow. -Though his face was dark in the shadow, his eyes seemed to pierce -through to her heart as she lay still and trembling with fear. But he -spoke softly to her with false, honeyed words. - -"Lady, thy sister Psyche, whom I chose out from the daughters of men, -hath proved false and untrue, and lo! now I turn my love to thee. Come -thou in her stead and be mistress in my palace halls, and I will give -thee immortality. Lo! even now Zephyr awaits thee on the mountain-top -to bear thee away to my home." - -So saying, he faded from her sight. Her wicked heart was filled with -joy when she heard of Psyche's fall, and she rose up in the dead of -night and put on her gayest robe and brightest gems. Without so much -as a look on the prince her husband she went out to the mountain-top. -There she stood alone, and called softly to Zephyr, - -"O Zephyr, O Zephyr, O fair west wind, waft me, oh waft me away to my -love!" - -Without waiting she threw herself boldly down. But the air gave way -beneath her, and with a terrible cry she fell faster and faster, down, -down, to the gulf below, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks; and -from the four quarters of heaven the vultures gathered and fed upon -her flesh. - -As for the second sister, to her, too, the god appeared and spoke -false honeyed words, and she too went forth alone; and in the morning -her bones lay gleaming white beside her sister's on the rocks below. - - -VII - -When Psyche awoke from her swoon, she looked around her in -bewilderment, for the scene which met her eyes was the same, and yet -so different. The forest-trees waved their arms gently in the breeze, -and whispered to each other in the glad morning light, and in the -hedges the birds sang sweet songs of joy; for the skies were blue, and -the grass was green, and summer was over the land. But Psyche sat up -with a dull grief in her heart, feeling over her the dim shadow of a -half-forgotten woe that meets those who awake from sleep. At first she -wondered where she was, for her clothes were wet with dew, and looking -round the still familiar scene, she saw the green glade in the forest, -but no shining palace at the top. Then like a flash she remembered the -night, and how by her doubt she had forfeited all her happiness, and -she lay on the ground and sobbed and prayed that she might die. But -soon tired out with weeping, she grew calmer, and remembered the words -of her lord--how she could find him again only after long wandering -and trial. Though her knees gave way beneath her, and her heart sank -at the thought of setting out alone into the cruel world, she -determined to begin her search forthwith. Through the dark forest she -went, and the sun hid his face behind the pine-tops, and great oaks -threw shadows across her path, in weird fantastic forms, like wild -arms thrust out to seize her as she passed. With hurrying steps and -beating heart she went on her way till she came out on the bleak -mountain-side, where the stones cut her tender feet and the brambles -tore her without mercy. But on and on she struggled along the stony -road, till the path grew soft beneath her, and sloped gently downwards -to the plain. Here through green fields and smiling pastures a river -wound slowly towards the sea, and beyond the further bank she saw the -smoke from the homesteads rise blue against the evening sky. She -quickened her steps, for already the shadows from the trees fell long -across the fields, and the grass turned to gold in the light of the -dying day. And still between her and shelter for the night lay many a -broad meadow and the silver stream to cross. As she drew nearer she -looked this way and that for a ford, but seeing none, she gathered -together her courage, and breathing a prayer to the gods, stepped into -the water. But she was weak and faint with fasting, and at every step -the water grew deeper and colder, and her strength more feeble, till -at length she was borne off her feet, and swept away by the hurrying -tide. In her agony she cried out, - -"O god of Love, have mercy and save me ere I die, that I may come to -thee!" - -Just as she was about to sink, she felt a strong arm seize her and -draw her up on the opposite shore. For a while she lay faint and -gasping for breath; but as her strength returned, she heard close -beside her soft notes of music, and she opened her eyes to see whence -the sweet sounds came. She found herself lying beneath a willow-tree, -against which leant a strange musician. For his head and shoulders and -arms were those of a man, but his legs and feet were thin and hoofed, -and he had horns and a tail like a goat. His ears were pointed, his -nose was wide and flat, and his hair fell unkempt and wild about his -face. Round his body he wore a leopard's skin, and he made sweet music -on a pipe of reeds. At first she was terrified at the sight of this -strange creature, but when he saw her look up at him, he stopped -playing, and smiled at her; and when he smiled he puckered his face in -a thousand wrinkles, and his eyes twinkled merrily through his wild -elf-locks, so that none could look on him and be sad. In spite of all -her woes Psyche fairly laughed aloud as he began to caper round her on -his spindle legs, playing a wild dance-tune the while. Faster and -faster he went, and up and down, and round and round, till, with a -last shrill note on his pipe and a mad caper in the air, he flung -himself on the grass beside her. - -"Have I warmed the blood back to thy heart, fair maid?" he asked, "or -shall I dance again the mad dance that drives away cold and despair?" - -"Nay, merry monster, even now my sides ache with laughter. But tell -me, who art thou, that savest damsels in distress, and drivest away -their sorrow with thy wild piping and dance?" - -"I am the god of the forest and woodland and broad wide pasture lands. -To me the shepherd prays to give increase to his flocks, and the -huntsman for a good day's sport. In the evening, when the moon shines -high o'erhead, and the sky is bright with stars, I take my pipe and -play my lays in the dim dark forest glades. To the sound of my music -the brook murmurs sweetly, the leaves whisper softly o'erhead, the -nymphs and naiads forget their shyness, and the hamadryad slips out -from her tree. Then the eyes of the simple are opened, and on the -cool, green grass by the side of the silver stream the goatherd, -the neatherd and the young shepherd-lad dance hand-in-hand with the -nymphs, and the poet, looking forth from his window, cries, 'How sweet -are the pipes of Pan!' - -[Illustration: Faster and faster he went, and up and down, and round -and round.] - -"But when the dark storm-cloud rides over the sky, and the streams -rush swollen with rain, with fleet foot I hurry through woodland and -dell, and over the bleak mountain-tops; the crash of my hoofs on the -rocks sounds like thunder in the ears of men, and the shriek of my -pipe like the squall of the wild storm-wind. And I rush through the -midst of the battle when the trumpets are calling to arms; but above -the blare of the bugle men hear the shrill cry of my pipes. Then the -archer throws down his bow, and the arm of the spearman falls limp, -and their hearts grow faint with panic at the sound of the pipes of -Pan. Nay, turn not from me in terror, lady," he added, as Psyche made -as though she would flee, "for I wish thee no ill. 'Tis gods mightier -than I who have made me goat-footed, with the horns and the tail of a -beast. But my heart is kindly withal, or I would not have saved thee -from the stream." - -Once more he smiled his genial smile, and puckered his face like the -ripples on a lake when a breeze passes over, - -"Come, tell me who art thou, and how can I help thee?" - -Then Psyche told her tale, and when she had finished Pan was silent -for a time, as though lost in thought. At length he looked up, and -said, - -"Thou seekest the great god Eros? I would that I could help thee, -lady; but love once fled is hard to find again. Easier is it to win -the dead to life than to bring back love that doubt hath put to -flight. I cannot help thee, for I know not how thou canst find him, -or where thou must seek. But, if thou wilt journey further, and cross -many a long mile of pasture and woodland, thou wilt come to the rich -corn-lands and the shrine of Demeter, the great Earth Mother. She -knows the secret of the growing corn, and how the rich fruits ripen in -their season, and she will have pity on a maid like thee, because of -her child Persephone, whom Hades snatched away from her flowery -meadows and dragged below to be Queen of the Dead. Three months she -lives with him, the bride of Death, in the dark world of shades, and -all the earth mourns for her. The trees shed their leaves like tears -on her grave, and through their bare branches the wind sings a dirge. -But in the spring-time she returns to her mother, and the earth at her -coming puts on her gayest robe, and the birds sing their brightest to -welcome her back. At her kiss the almond-tree blushes into bloom, and -the brook babbles merrily over the stones, and the primrose and violet -and dancing daffodil spring up wherever her feet have touched. Go, -then, to Demeter's shrine; for if thy love is to be sought on earth, -she will tell thee where to go; but if to find him thou must cross the -dark river of death, her child Persephone will receive thee." - -He then pointed out to her the path to the village, where she could -get shelter for the night, and Psyche, thanking him, went on her way, -gladdened at heart by the genial smile of the wild woodland god. - -That night she slept in a shepherd's cottage, and in the morning the -children went out with her to point out the road she must go. The -shepherd's wife, standing at the door, waved to her with her eyes full -of tears. She had maidens of her own, and she pitied the delicate -wanderer, for Psyche's beautiful face had shed a light in the rude -shepherd's hut which the inmates would never forget. - - -VIII - -So Psyche went on her journey, often weak and fainting for food, and -rough men laughed at her torn clothes and bleeding feet. But she did -not heed their jeers and insults, and often those who had laughed the -loudest when she was a little way off, were the first to hush their -rude companions when they saw her near. For her face was fairer than -the dawn and purer than the evening star, so that the wicked man -turned away from his sin when he saw it, and the heart of the watcher -was comforted as he sat by the sick man's bed. - -At length, as Pan had told her, she came to the rich corn-lands where -Demeter has her shrine. Already the valleys were standing thick with -corn, for it was close on harvest-time, and on the hill-sides the -purple grapes hung in heavy clusters beneath the tall elm-branches. As -she drew near the temple, a band of harvesters came out. They had just -placed the first-fruits of the corn in the shrine, and now they were -trooping to the fields, a merry throng of young men and maidens. -Psyche stood back shyly as they passed, but they heeded her not, or at -most cast a curious glance at her ragged clothes and bruised feet. -When they had passed her, and she had heard their merry laughter and -chatter die away down the lane, she ventured to enter the temple. -Within all was dark and peaceful. Before the altar lay sheaves of -corn and rich purple clusters of grapes, whilst the floor was strewn -with the seeds and bruised fruits which the harvesters had let fall -when they carried in their offerings. Hidden in a dark corner Psyche -found the temple-sweeper's broom, and, taking it, she swept up the -floor of the temple. Then, turning to the altar steps, she stretched -forth her hands and prayed, - -"O Demeter, great Earth Mother, giver of the golden harvest--O thou -who swellest the green corn in the ear, and fillest the purple vine -with gladdening juice, have mercy on one who has sinned. For the sake -of thy child, Persephone, the Maiden, have pity on me, and tell me -where in the wide world I can find Eros, my lord, or whether to the -dark land I must go to search for him." - -So she prayed, and waited for an answer; but all was still and dark in -the temple, and at length she turned sorrowfully away, and leant her -head against a pillar and wept. And, because she had walked many a -long mile that day, and had not eaten since dawn, she sank down -exhausted on the ground, and gradually her sobs grew fewer and -fainter, and she fell asleep. - -As she slept she dreamt the temple was dark no more, but into every -corner shone a soft clear light, and looking round to see whence it -came, she saw, on the altar steps, the form of a woman, but taller and -grander than any woman of earth. Her robe of brown gold fell in -stately folds to her feet, and on her head was a wreath of scarlet -poppies. Her hair lay in thick plaits on her bosom, like ripe corn in -the harvest, and she leant on a large two-handed scythe. With great -mild eyes she looked at Psyche as one who has known grief and the -loss of loved ones, and can read the sorrows of men's hearts. - -"Psyche," she said, "I have heard thy prayer, and I know thy grief, -for I, too, have wandered over the earth to find the child of my love. -And thou must likewise wander and bear to the full the burden of thy -sin; for so the gods have willed it. This much can I tell thee, and no -more. Thou must go yet further from the land of thy birth, and cross -many a rough mountain and foaming torrent, and never let thy heart -grow faint till thou come to a temple of Hera, the wife of Zeus the -All-seeing. And if she find thee worthy, she will tell thee how thou -must seek thy love." - -So saying, she faded from her sight, and Psyche awoke and found the -temple cold and dark. But in her heart she cherished the image of the -great Earth Mother, with her large eyes full of pity, and set out -comforted on her journey. - -Too long would it be to tell of all her wanderings and all the -hardships of the road, but many a moon had waxed and waned before she -stood on the brow of a hill looking down on Hera's shining temple. -Down the hill she went, and up the marble steps, and men stood aside -as she passed, for her face was fairer than before, and she no longer -shrank back like a hunted thing, but walked with the swinging gait of -those whose feet the kind earth has hardened, and the breezes of -heaven have fanned the fire in their eyes. In her heart she knew that -she had conquered and borne the terrors of the path with no coward's -fears, and she prayed that Hera might find her worthy of doing great -deeds to win back her lord. Then she stood before the altar, and made -her prayer, - -"O Hera, golden-throned, who sittest on the right hand of Zeus--O thou -who, when the marriage-torch is lit, doth lead the bride and -bridegroom to their home, and pourest blessings on their wedded love, -have mercy on me, and show me where I may find my lord. Far have I -wandered, and drunk deep of sorrow's cup, but my heart is strong for -any task that shall win back my love to me." - -Thus she prayed, and bowed her head before the great white statue of -the goddess. Even as she spoke, the statue seemed to change and rise -from the ivory throne in the shape of a woman tall and exceeding fair. -Her robes were like the clouds at sunset, and her veil like the -mountain mist; on her head she wore a crown of gold, and the lightning -played about her feet as she gazed at Psyche with eyes that pierced -through to her soul. - -"Psyche," she said, "I have heard thy prayer, and I know that thou art -true. For I am the wife of Zeus, who seeth all things, and he hideth -naught from me. Well I know that thou hast wandered far, and suffered -at the hands of men. But greater trials await thee yet, before thou -canst find thy lord. Thou must be slave to foam-born Aphrodite, the -pitiless goddess of Love. And she will try thee sorely, and put thee -to many a hard test ere she will forgive thee and think thee worthy of -her son Eros, or of the godhead men gave thee long ago. But if thou -overcomest her wrath, thou hast overcome death itself, and naught can -part thee from thy lord again. Go, then, to where she holds her court -in a pleasant valley by the sea, and forget not that the gods bless -tenfold those who waste not the power that is given them, how feeble -soe'er it be." - -So saying, she faded slowly away till Psyche found herself standing -once more before the pale white statue. Then she turned and went -through the silent temple, and out into the sunlight, and asked for -the road which would lead her to the sea and Aphrodite's pleasant -vale. - - -IX - -For many a long day she journeyed, till at length she saw the blue sea -far away and a pleasant valley sloping to the shore. Here the waves -broke in laughing ripples on the beach, and the leaves danced gaily on -the trees in the soft west wind; for Aphrodite, born of the foam, the -fairest of all the goddesses, held her court there, surrounded by her -nymphs and maidens. As she sat on her golden throne they danced around -her with their white arms gleaming, and crowned her with roses, -singing the while the song of her beauty. - -"O foam-born Aphrodite, Queen of Love, fairest of Time's deathless -daughters. Thee the golden-snooded Hours kiss as they pass and the -circling Seasons crown with grace. Before thee all was fire and chaos, -but at thy coming like sped to like. The earth decked herself with -flowers, and the nightingale sang to her mate on the bough, and in the -pale moonbeams youth and maiden sped hand in hand through the glade. -Thy smile is like sunshine on ripples, but the flash of thine eyes -like the death-bearing gleam of the lightning; for not always art thou -kind. The heart of the scorner thou breakest, and art jealous for thy -rites. Wherefore north and south and east and west men worship thee, -both now and evermore, O goddess of ten thousand names!" - -As Psyche drew near the nymphs espied her. With loud cries they rushed -forward, and flinging chains of roses about her, dragged her forward -before the throne. - -"A prisoner, a prisoner!" they cried--"a mortal, O queen, who has -dared to enter thy sacred vale! What fate shall be hers?" - -And Psyche knelt trembling before the throne. She dared not look up, -for she felt the eyes of the goddess upon her, and the blaze of her -anger burned through to her heart. - -"Psyche, what doest thou here? Knowest thou not that long ago I loved -thee not, because thy beauty taught men to forget my dues, and mine -own son didst thou lead to disobey my word? By thy folly hast thou -lost him; and glad am I that he is rid of thy toils. Think not that -thy tears will move me. Those who enter my sacred vale become the -lowest of my slaves, and woe to them if they fail to do the task I set -them. Verily, thine shall be no light one, or I am not the Queen of -Love and Beauty." - -"O lady," answered Psyche, "'twas to be thy slave and to do thy will -that I came to thy sacred vale, if haply I might turn thy wrath to -love and prove myself not all unworthy of thy son. Great was my sin, O -goddess, when I doubted him; but many are the tears I have shed, and -weary the way I have wandered in search of him--yea, even to the dark -underworld would I go, if so be it I could find him there. As for the -worship that men paid me, Zeus, who searcheth all hearts, knoweth -that I lifted not mine in pride above thee. Nay, doth not every gift -of beauty come from thee, O mighty one? If my face hath any fairness, -'tis that it shadoweth forth thine image. Weak are the hearts of men, -lady, and hard is it for them to look on the sun in his might. Be not -angry, then, if through the mortal image that perisheth, they stretch -forth blind hands towards the beauty that fadeth not away. And now on -my knees I beg thee, O queen, to set me thy hardest tasks, that I may -prove my love or die for mine unworthiness." - -As Psyche was speaking the face of the goddess softened, and she -answered her more gently. - -"Thy words please me, maiden, for the gods love those who shrink not -back from trial. Three tasks will I set thee, and if in these thou -fail not, one harder than all the others will I give thee, whereby -thou shalt win thy love and immortality. Go, maidens, and lead her to -my garner, that she may sort the golden grain ere the sun's first rays -gild the pine-tops." - - -X - -At the command of the goddess the nymphs gathered round Psyche, and, -binding her hands with chains of roses, led her away to the garner. -Here they set her free, and with peals of merry laughter bade her -farewell. - -"Pray to the hundred-handed one, maiden, to help thee," cried one; -"thy two hands will not go far." - -"Nay, an hundred hundred hands could not sort the grain by sunrise," -said another. - -"Better to work with two hands," said Psyche, "than idly to pray for -ten thousand." - -But for all her brave answer her heart sank as she looked at the task -before her; for she stood in the largest garner it had ever been her -lot to see--wide and lofty as her father's palace-halls, and all the -floor was strewn with seeds and grain of every kind--wheat, oats and -barley, millet, beans and maize, which she must sort each after its -kind into a separate heap before the sun should rise. However, she set -diligently to work, and minute after minute, hour after hour passed -swiftly by, and the heaps kept growing by her side; yet for all her -toil 'twas but a tiny corner of the garner she had cleared. Feverishly -she worked on, not daring to look at what remained to do. Her back -ached, her arms grew stiff, and her eyes felt heavy as lead, but she -worked as one in a dream, and her head kept falling on her breast for -weariness, till at length she could hold out no longer, but fell fast -asleep upon the cold stone floor. - -While she slept a marvellous thing happened. From every hole and crack -there appeared an army of ants--black ants, white ants, red -ants--swarming and tumbling over each other in their haste. Over the -whole floor of the garner they spread, and each one carried a grain of -seed, which it placed upon its own heap and ran quickly back for -another. Such myriads were there, and so quickly did they work, that -by the time the first ray of the sun peeped in at the windows the -floor was clear, save for the heaps of sorted grain standing piled up -in the midst. The bright light pouring in at the window fell upon -Psyche as she slept, and with a start she awoke and began feverishly -to feel about for the grain. When her eyes became accustomed to the -light, how great was her joy and thankfulness to see the neat heaps -before her! And as she looked round, wondering who could have been so -kind a friend, she saw the last stragglers of the ants hurrying away -to every crack and cranny. - -"O kind little people," she cried, "how can I thank you?" - -She had no time to say more, for the door was thrown open, and in a -golden flood of sunlight the nymphs came dancing in. Seeing the floor -cleared and the bright heaps lying on the floor, they stopped short in -amazement. - -"Verily thou hast wrought to some purpose, maiden," said one. - -"Nay, she could never have done it of herself," said another. - -"True, O bright-haired ones!" answered Psyche. "I toiled and toiled, -and my labour did but mock me, and at length my strength gave way and -I fell asleep upon the floor. But the little folk had pity on me, and -came out in myriads and sorted out the grain till all was finished. -And lo! the task is accomplished." - -"We will see what our queen shall say to this," they answered. - -And binding her once more in their rosy chains, they led her to -Aphrodite. - -"Hast thou swept my garner, Psyche, and sorted the grain each after -its kind?" she asked. - -"Thy garner is swept and thy grain is sorted, lady," she replied, "and -therein I wrought the little my feeble strength could bear. When I -failed the little folk came forth and did the task." - -Trembling, she waited for the answer, for she feared that in the very -first trial she had failed. But Aphrodite answered, - -"Why dost thou tremble, Psyche? The task is accomplished, and that is -all I ask; for well do I know the little folk help only those who help -themselves. Two more tasks must thou do before I put thee to the final -proof. Seest thou yon shining river? On the other bank graze my flocks -and herds. Precious are they beyond all telling, for their skins are -of pure gold. Go, now, and fetch me one golden lock by sunset." - -So saying, she signed to the nymphs to release Psyche, who went at -once towards the stream, light-hearted; for this task, she thought, -would be no hard one after the last. - -As she approached the river she saw the cattle feeding on the further -bank--sheep and oxen, cows and goats--their golden skins gleaming in -the sunlight. Looking about for some means of crossing, she espied a -small boat moored among the reeds. Entering it, she unloosed the rope -and pushed out into the stream. As she did so, one of the bulls on the -further shore looked up from his grazing and saw her. With a snort of -rage he galloped down the field, followed by the rest of the herd. -Right down to the water's edge they came, lashing their tails and -goading with their horns, and an ill landing would it have been for -Psyche had she reached the shore. Hastily she pushed back among the -reeds, and pondered what she must do; but the more she thought the -darker grew her lot. To get one single hair from the golden herd she -must cross the stream, and, if she crossed, the wild bulls would goad -her to death. At length in despair she determined to meet her doom, if -only to show that her love was stronger than death. As she bent over -the boat to loose the rope, a light breeze set the reeds a-whispering, -and one seemed to speak to her. - -[Illustration: She unloosed the rope and pushed out into the stream.] - -"Fair lady, leave us not, for those who reach the further shore return -not to us again." - -"Farewell, then, for ever, gentle reed, for I have a task to do, -though I die in the vain attempt." - -"Ah, lady, stay here and play with us. Too young and fair art thou to -die." - -"No coward is young or fair, kind reed. And before sunset I must win a -lock from a golden fleece yonder, or I shall never find my love -again." - -And she let loose the rope. - -"Stay, stay, gentle maiden. There I can help thee, for all my life -have I watched the golden herds, and I know their ways. All day long -they feed in the pleasant pasture, and woe to those who would cross -over when the sun is high in heaven. But towards evening, when he is -sinking in the far west, the herdsman of Aphrodite cometh and driveth -them home to their stalls for the night. Then mayest thou cross with -safety and win a lock from the golden herd." - -But Psyche laughed aloud at his words. - -"Thou biddest me steal the apples when the tree is bare. Thy heart is -kind, O reed, but thy tongue lacketh wisdom. Fare thee well." - -"Not so fast, lady. Seest thou not the tall ram yonder by the -thorn-bush? Sweet grows the grass beneath its shade, yet to reach it -he must leave a golden tribute on the thorns. Even now there is a lock -of his fleece caught in the branches. Stay with us till the herds are -gone, lady, and then canst thou win the lock of gold." - -"O kindest of reeds, forgive my blindness. 'Tis more than my life thou -hast saved, for, with the task undone, I should lose my love for -ever." - -So all day long she stayed and talked with the reeds; and they told -her that often folk came down to the stream and pushed out for the -other bank. But when the cattle rushed raging to the water's edge they -turned back afraid, and dared not venture forth again, but went home -disconsolate. And so they heard not the whispering of the reeds nor -learnt the secret of winning the golden lock. - -Now the shadows were falling fast, and away in the distance Psyche -heard the horn of the herdsman and his voice calling the cattle home. -At the sound they lifted their heads, and made for the gate on the far -side of the field. As soon as they were safely through, Psyche pushed -out the boat and rowed to the other bank. Swiftly she made for the -thorn-bush and picked the golden lock from the bough, and as the boat -glided back to the reeds, the sun sank low behind the hills. Close at -hand she heard the laughter of the nymphs as they came to see whether -the task were done. With a smile she drew the lock of gold from her -bosom, and, marvelling, they led her back to Aphrodite. - -"Thou hast a brave heart, Psyche," said the goddess, as she looked at -the golden lock at her feet. - -"The bravest heart could not have won this lock, lady, without knowing -the secret which the reeds whispered to me." - -"Well do I know that, Psyche. But 'tis only the pure in heart that can -understand the voice of the wind in the reeds; and thus doubly have I -tried thee. Take now this crystal bowl for thy third task. Beyond this -pleasant vale thou wilt come to a dark and barren plain. On the far -side a mighty mountain rears his peak to heaven, and from the summit a -spring gushes forth and falls headlong over the precipice down into -the gulf below. Go now and get me a draught of that stream, but see -that thou break not the goblet on the way, for its worth is beyond all -telling." - -In truth, as she held it out, the crystal gleamed brighter than the -rainbow. Psyche took the goblet, and the first rays of the sun found -her already on the plain. Far away on the other side the mountain-peak -rose barren and black against the sky, and she hurried on as fast as -her feet would go, lest night should fall ere she had filled the -goblet. On and on she went, and at length she drew near to the -mountain and looked about for a path leading up to the summit. But -naught could she see save rocks and boulders and masses of crumbling -stones, and there was nothing for it but to set to work to climb the -rough mountain-side. Clasping the goblet tightly in one hand, she -clung to the rocks as best she might with the other, fearing at every -step that she would slip and break her precious burden. How she ever -reached the top she never knew, but at length she stood, bruised and -torn, upon the summit. What was her dismay when she saw that the -mountain-peak was divided by a mighty cleft, and across the abyss she -saw the stream of water gushing out from the steep rock a hundred feet -and more below the summit! Even had she toiled down again and up on -the other side the rock fell away so smooth and sheer that a -mountain-goat would have no ledge on which to rest his foot. - -Psyche sat down upon a rock to think what she must do, and the more -she thought the more she felt that her last hour had come. - -"For the only way I can reach the water is to throw myself into the -bottomless abyss, where the stream flows deep down into the bowels of -the earth; and I should be dashed to pieces, but perchance the King of -the Underworld would have mercy on me, and let my soul return but once -on earth to bear the crystal bowl to Aphrodite." - -So saying, she stood and bade farewell to the earth and the pleasant -sunlight and the fair flowers that she loved, and prepared to throw -herself over the mountain-side. As she was about to spring from the -edge, she heard the whirring of wings above her head, and a mighty -eagle flew down and settled on the rock beside her. - -"Far up above thy head, in the blue sky, have I watched thee, Psyche, -and seen thy labours on the mountain-side. Too brave and true art thou -to go to thy death. Give me the goblet, and I will fill it. Knowest -thou that yonder stream is a jet which springeth up from dark Cocytus, -the River of Wailing, which watereth the shores of the dead? No mortal -can touch of that water and live, or bear it away in a vessel of -earth. But this goblet is the gift of Zeus almighty, and I am his -messenger--the only bird of heaven that can look on the sun in his -might. Give me the cup, then, and I will fill it, and bear it to the -mountain-foot, that thou mayest carry it back in safety." - -With tears of joy and thankfulness Psyche gave him the goblet, and as -he flew away across the dark chasm, swift as an arrow from the bow, -she turned and sped down the mountain-side, heeding not the stones and -boulders, so glad was she at heart. At the foot she found the eagle -awaiting her. - -"O mightiest of birds, how can I thank thee?" she cried. - -"To have served thee, lady, is all the thanks I need. Farewell, and -may the gods prosper thee in thy last great trial." - -And he spread his mighty wings and flew away. Psyche watched him till -he grew but a tiny speck in the blue of the sky. Then she turned and -hastened across the plain with her precious goblet of water. - -The nymphs danced put to meet her as before, and led her to Aphrodite. - -"I see thou art fearless and true, maiden," she said, when Psyche had -told her tale. "Twice hast thou faced death without flinching, and now -must thou go down to his own land; for no woman is worthy of my son's -love, if she possess not beauty immortal that fadeth not with passing -years. And she alone, the Queen of the Dead, can give thee this gift. -Take this casket, then, and go and kneel before her and beg her to -give thee therein the essence of that beauty. When thou hast it, see -thou hasten swiftly back and open not the casket; for if its fumes -escape and overcome thee in the world below, thou must dwell for ever -with the shades." - -So Psyche took the casket, and her heart sank within her at the -thought of that dread journey. And the nymphs waved sadly to her as -she went away, for never yet had they looked on one who had returned -from the dark land of shadows. - - -XI - -Away from the pleasant vale went Psyche, for she knew full well that -nowhere in that fair place could she find a way down to the world -below. As a child, when she had lived in her father's halls, her nurse -had told her strange tales of dark and fearsome caves which men called -the mouth of Hades, and how those who went down them never returned; -or if one perchance, more favoured than the rest, came back into the -sunlight, his face was pale and his strength departed, and he talked -wildly of strange things that none could understand. - -Far over the country-side she wandered and asked for the gate of -Hades, and some pitied her weakness, and some laughed at her -foolishness, and all men thought her mad. - -"For beggar and king, for wise and foolish, the road to Hades is one," -they said, "and all must travel it soon or late. If thou seekest it, -in very sooth, go throw thyself from off yon lofty tower, and thou -wilt find it fast enough." - -Sadly she went and stood on the tower, for she saw no other way. Once -again she bid farewell to the earth and the sunlight, and was about to -leap from a pinnacle, when she thought she heard a voice calling her -by name, and she hushed her breath and listened. - -"Psyche, Psyche," she heard, "why wilt thou pollute my stones with -blood? I have done thee no wrong, yet thou wouldst make men hate me -and shun the rock on which I stand. As for thee, it would avail thee -nought, for thy soul would dwell for ever in the Kingdom of the Dead, -and the shadow of thyself, faint and formless, would glide about my -walls, and with thin-voiced wailing weep for thy lost love; men, -hearing it, would flee from me, and for lack of the builder's care, my -stones would fall asunder, and of all my proud beauty naught would be -left, save a mound of moss-grown stones and thy spirit's mournful -guardianship." - -Then Psyche knelt and kissed the stones. - -"Poor tower," she said, "I would not harm thee. Thou canst tell me, -perchance, some better way, for I must bear this casket to the Queen -of the Dead, and beg for a gift of beauty immortal, that I may return -to the earth worthy of my lord." - -"Hadst thou thrown thyself over the edge, thou wouldst never have come -to the Queen of the Dead, but wailing and forlorn wouldst have -wandered on the shores of the Land that has no name; for betwixt that -land and Hades flows the wide Stygian stream. One boat there is that -can cross it, and therein sits Charon, the ferryman of souls. Greedy -of gain is he and hard of heart, and none will he take across who bear -not a coin of gold in their mouths. And the pale ghosts of those who -have died away from their loved ones, when none were by to pay the -last rites of the dead and place the gold coin in their mouths--all -these flock wailing around him and beg him with heart-rending cries to -take them over the stream. But to all their entreaties he turneth a -deaf ear and beateth them back with his oar. E'en hadst thou prevailed -on him and come to the palace of pale Persephone, thou couldst not -have entered in; for at the gates sits Cerberus, the three-headed -hound of Hell, and none may pass him without a cake of barley-bread. -But his soul loveth the taste of earth-grown corn, and while he -devours it the giver may pass by unscathed." - -"The coin of gold and the barley-cake I can get," she said, "but how I -can reach the Underworld alive I know not." - -"Not far from hence thou wilt find the cave men call the Gate of -Hades. In ignorance they name it, for no man hath proved where it -leads. All the long years I have stood upon this rock have I watched -the entrance to that cave, and men have come up and looked inside, and -the boldest have entered in; but always have they come swiftly back, -staggering like drunken men, with pale faces and wild eyes full of -fear, and about them hangs the smell of the noisome vapours that rise -up from the gates of the dead; and the old wives sitting by the -fireside nod their grey heads together. 'Tis the tale that our mothers -told us long ago and their mothers before them,' they mutter. 'Tis -surely the Gate of Hades, and those who venture too far will never -come back again.' They have guessed aright, maiden, and down that dark -cavern lies thy path." - -"But if those who venture too far never return, how shall I bear back -the essence of undying beauty in the casket?" - -"Instead of one gold piece, take two, and two loaves of fresh-baked -barley-bread. One gold coin to the ferryman and one loaf to the hound -must thou give as thou goest, and keep the rest for thy return, and -from greed they will let thee pass back again. Tie the casket in thy -bosom, and put the gold coins in thy mouth, and take the barley-loaves -one in each hand. See that thou set them not down, or the pale ghosts -will snatch them away; for the taste of the earth-grown meal giveth a -semblance of warmth to their cold forms, and for a brief space they -feel once more the glow of life. So by many a wile will they seek to -make thee set down the bread; but do thou answer them never a word, -for he who toucheth or answereth one of these becometh even as they -are." - -Psyche thanked him for his counsel, and went forth to beg the two gold -coins and barley-loaves, and for love of her fair face the people gave -it gladly. When all was ready, she set out towards the cave. About its -mouth the brambles grew tall and thick, and the ivy hung down in long -festoons, for none had ventured in for many a long year. As best she -might, she cut a way through the prickly hedge, and stood in the -shadow of the cave, and the drip of the water from the roof sent a -faint echo through the vaults. Through the dark pools she went, -through mud and through mire, and the green slime hung like a dank -pall about the walls. On and on she hastened, till her head swam round -and her heart turned sick within her; for round her floated a mist of -poisonous vapour, which choked her and made her gasp for breath, and -monstrous shapes swept past--the Furies and Harpies and hundred-headed -beasts which guard the gate to Hades. Their cries and shrieks filled -the air, and every moment she shrank back, terrified that they would -tear her limb from limb, as they bore down on her with the whirr of -their mighty wings and their wild locks flying in the wind. Across the -path they stood and waved her back, and her heart turned cold with -fear; but she pressed onward with hurrying steps, and lo! when she -came up to them the shapes clove asunder like mist before the sun, and -she passed through them, and found they were but smoke. - -And so she came to the nameless land that lies betwixt earth and -Hades; a barren, boundless plain it is, with never a tree or shrub to -break the dulness of its sad mud flats. Up and down it wander the -shades of those whose bodies the kind earth has never covered, and -they wring their hands and wail to their dear ones above, to grant -them burial and the rites of the dead. For Charon, the grim ferryman, -beats them back from his boat, because they have no coin, and they are -doomed to dwell for ever in the land that has no name. - -As she was crossing the dismal plain, an old man came towards her -beating a laden ass. Old and weak was he, and could scarce stagger -along by the side of the beast, and as he came up to Psyche the cords -broke that bound the burden on the ass's back, and the faggots he -carried were scattered all about. And he set up a dismal wailing, and -wrung his pale withered hands. - -"Gracious damsel, have mercy on an old man, and help me load my ass -once more." - -But Psyche remembered the words of the tower, and she clung the -tighter to the loaves of bread, though she longed to help the feeble -shade. - -[Illustration: "Help, help! I drown in this foul stream!"] - -Onward she went till she came to the banks of the Styx, the mighty -river of Hell, by which the great gods swear. Nine times it winds its -snaky coils about the shores of Hades, and across its leaden waters -Charon, the boatman of the dead, ferries backward and forward for -ever. When he saw Psyche, he hailed her, and asked her for the coin. -Answering him never a word, she held out one coin with her lips, and -as he took it she shuddered. For his breath was as the north wind -blowing across the snow, and his eyes were like a fish's, cold and -dull. - -"Welcome, sweet maiden. 'Tis not often we get a fare like thee, my -boat and I;" and he laughed a hard, thin laugh, like the cracking of -ice in a thaw, and beneath her weight the boat creaked in chorus. - -Out into the stream he pushed with his pole, and then set to with his -oar, and the rise and fall of the blade made never a sound in those -dull leaden waters. As they neared the middle of the stream, Psyche -saw two pale arms rise up above the waves, and the head of an old man, -who cried out to her piteously, - -"Help, help! I drown in this foul stream! Ah, for pity's sake put out -one finger to save me!" - -And Psyche turned aside to hide her tears; for the face was the face -of her father, and his cries pierced through to her heart. As the boat -passed by he sank with a moan beneath the waves, and she saw him no -more. - -At length they reached the shore of Hades, and she saw three paths -before her leading upwards from the landing-stage. As she stood, not -knowing which to take, the old man beckoned to her. - -"I know not whither thou art bound, lady, for thou bearest not on -thee the mark of the dead. The souls of the wicked I know, for about -them fly the Furies, the avengers of sin, and hound them down the -left-hand path, through Periphlegethon, the river of fire--down, down -to the utmost depths of Tartarus. And the souls of the brave shine -forth like stars in the darkness, and they take the right-hand path to -the Elysian fields of light, where the breeze blows bright and fresh -and the golden flowers are glowing. The middle path leadeth to the -palace of pale Persephone, but that way only the gods and the children -of the gods may go, or those who bear with them some token from the -Immortals." - -Then Psyche showed him Aphrodite's casket, and turned up the middle -path. Through a dark wood she went, and came out upon a plain. Here -she saw three aged women weaving at a loom, and they cried out to her -in weak, quavering voices, - -"Oh, maiden, thine eyes are young and thy fingers supple. Come help us -unravel the thread." - -But for the third time she turned aside, and went quickly on her way, -and when she looked back over her shoulder the loom and the hags had -vanished away. - -So at length she came to the palace of Persephone. The roof and -columns were all of pure silver, which shone with a pale light through -the murk and gloom, like the shimmer of pale moonbeams on a cloudy -night. Above the heads of the pillars ran a frieze of strange device. -It told of Night and Chaos, and of the birth of Time, and how the sons -of Earth rose up against the gods in deadly battle, and were hurled -into the depths of Tartarus by the thunderbolts of Zeus. And it -showed how Prometheus the Titan gave fire to mortal men, so that they -learnt all manner of crafts, and became the masters of all living -things, and like the gods for wisdom. But they ruled by the law of the -strongest, and said that might was right, and begat the foul forms of -Pestilence and War and red-handed Murder. The other side told of the -things that would come to pass when Time and Death should be no more, -and Love should rule the universe. On that side all the forms were -fair and all the faces beautiful, and the breeze played through -pleasant places where the flowers never fade. In the centre of the -pediment, with mighty wings overshadowing either side, stood a mighty -figure, Anangke, great Necessity, the mother of gods and men. From the -one side she looked dark and terrible, and the world trembled at her -frown, but from the other she was fairer than the day, and by -unchanging law she drew all things after her till they should be -perfected. - -On the palace steps before the doorway sat Cerberus, the three-headed -watch-dog. When he saw Psyche approaching he began to growl, and his -growl was like the rattle of thunder far away. As she drew nearer he -barked furiously and snarled at her, baring his white gleaming fangs. -Quickly she threw him one of the barley loaves, and while he was -devouring it, she slipped gently past, and stood within the courtyard -of the palace. All was silent and deserted, and her footsteps, as they -fell on the marble pavement, sent no echo through the colonnades; for -it seemed that even sound must die in that lifeless air. She passed -through great doors of bronze into a lofty hall. In the shadowy -depths of it she saw a great throne raised, and on it sat the Queen of -the Dead. About her stood two handmaids, and their names were Memory -and Sleep. One fanned her with great poppy-leaves, and as she did so -the eyes of the queen grew heavy and dim, and she sat as one in a -trance. But when this one grew weary of fanning, anon the other would -hold up before her a great mirror of polished steel, and when she -looked into it the colour would rush into her pale cheeks, and her -eyes would glow like coals of fire, for in the flash of the steel she -saw earth's flowery meadows, and remembered that for three months only -did she live in the gloom and the shade; and she knew, moreover, that -one day the circling seasons would stay their course, and decay and -death would pass away, and when that time came she would return no -more to the murk and gloom, but dwell for ever in the sunshine and the -flowers. A magic mirror is that which Memory holds, and few are there -who can bear to look on its brightness, but those whose eyes are -strong gaze into its depths, and learn that knowledge and remembrance -are one. - -With timid steps did Psyche cross the hall, and knelt upon the steps -of the throne. - -"Child of Earth, what dost thou here?" asked the queen. "This is no -place for living souls." - -"O mighty one, 'tis a boon I beg of thee," said Psyche, and drew from -her bosom Aphrodite's casket. "Give me, I pray thee, the gift of -undying beauty in this casket, that I may return above worthy of my -lord." - -"'Tis a great boon thou askest. Nevertheless, for thy bravery's sake I -will give it thee. For many are they who set out to find it, but few -have the heart to come so far." - -Thereupon she took the casket in her hands, and breathed into it, and -her breath was as the smoke of incense on the altar. - -"Take it and return swiftly whence thou earnest, and see thou open it -not till thou comest upon earth. For in the land of the dead my breath -is death, but above it is life and beauty immortal. Fare thee well." - -With a glad heart Psyche rose from her knees, and sped through the -silent palace. She threw the second loaf to Cerberus as she passed, -and for the second coin of gold Charon took her once more across in -his boat. This time no sad phantoms cried to her for help, and she -knew that it was for the sake of the earth-grown meal that they had -stood in her path before. - -At last she stood once more in the sunlight, and joy lent wings to her -feet as she sped across the plain and away to Aphrodite's pleasant -vale. With the casket in her hand, she knelt before the throne, but -Aphrodite put out her hand and raised her up. - -"Kneel no more to me, Psyche, for now thou art one of us. But open the -casket and drink into thy very soul the life and beauty that will -never die." - -Her smile was brighter than sunshine on the shimmering waves, and the -touch of her hand made Psyche's blood run like fire through her veins. -Scarce knowing what she did, she opened the casket. The fumes rose up -in a cloud about her head, and she knew no more till she felt herself -moving upwards, upwards. As life came slowly back she opened her eyes, -and looked into the face of him she had seen but once. His rainbow -wings were spread above her, and his strong arms held her close, and -he looked into her eyes with the look that mingles two souls into one. - -"Beloved," he whispered, "Love has conquered all things. In thy -darkest hour of trial I watched over thee, and gave thee strength, and -now we two will dwell for ever in the courts of heaven, and teach the -hearts of men to love as we love." - -[Illustration] - - - - -Hero and Leander - - -One sunny day in April long ago, a maiden sat in a lonely tower -looking out across the Hellespont. At her feet the blue ripples lapped -lazily on the beach and played a soothing lullaby upon the stones, and -the white-sailed ships floated slowly down the stream from Sestos, -carrying their rich freights of corn and merchandise. To the north she -could see the port of Sestos, with the great walls running down from -the city to the harbour, and the masts of the ships as they lay at -anchor by the quay. Across the water, facing the tower, stood Abydos, -with its palaces and houses nestling white at the foot of the low -green hills. So narrow is the sea that runs between Sestos and Abydos, -and so swiftly does the current flow, that the ancients used to think -it was a great river running down from Propontis and the stormy -Euxine, and emptying their overflowing waters into the wide Ægean -main. So they called it the broad Hellespont, for the rivers of Greece -were but narrow streams beside it. - -As she looked across the sunlit waters the maiden sighed, and turned -wearily to an old dame who sat spinning in a corner of the room. - -"Good mother," she said, "how many years didst thou say we two have -lived in this wave-washed tower?" - -"'Tis close on twenty years, my dear, since I brought thee here, a -tiny babe in my arms." - -"Twenty years!" sighed the maiden. "Twenty centuries had passed by -more swiftly in the bright busy world out yonder. How long is a -woman's life, good nurse?" - -"With the blessing of Heaven she may live for four score years, my -child." - -"Four score years--four times as long as I have lived already! I can -well dispense with the blessing of Heaven." - -"Nay; hush, hush!" cried the old woman, and stopped her spinning -hastily. "What ails thee, Hero? Thou wast never wont to speak such -dreadful words." - -The girl threw herself on her knees beside her, and laid her head upon -her lap and sobbed. The old nurse drew her fingers tenderly over her -long black hair, and waited for the storm of passion to be spent. - -"I am tired--tired of this lonely life," sobbed the maiden. "Why am I -shut up here, all alone?" - -"Thou knowest the reason full well, my child. If thou goest forth into -the world, a great sorrow will come upon thee, and drive thee to death -in the flower of thy youth. Such was the oracle of the gods concerning -thee. Thy mother--poor young thing!--scarce lived to hold thee to her -breast, and when she died she put thee in my arms. 'Take her away, -nurse, far from the haunts of men, and never let her out into the -cruel world. Go, live with her in some lonely tower by the sea, and -make her a priestess to pitiless, foam-born Aphrodite. Night and day, -as soon as she can lisp a baby prayer, let her burn incense before the -altar of the goddess, and perchance she will have mercy on her, and -save her from her fate. Full well I know that 'tis with her it rests -to strike down my child or to save her, even as it was she, the -goddess of Love, who laid her cruel hand on me, so that now I lie -a-dying. Ah! save my child from the fate that has been mine.' I did as -she bade me, and surely we have not been unhappy, thou and I, -together, all these years?" - -And she stroked the girl's cheek tenderly, and sighed as she thought -how, for many months past, it had grown paler week by week. - -"Ah, think me not ungrateful!" cried Hero. "Thou knowest that I love -thee, and would never leave thee. But my heart is restless, and I long -to set foot beyond this tower and see a great town and streets and the -faces of my fellow-men." - -Then she rose from her knees, and led the old nurse to the window. - -"There!" she cried, pointing towards Sestos; "dost thou see where the -white highway runs down into the city--how a crowd of pilgrims throng -towards the gate? See, too, the steep pathway that winds upwards from -the harbour--how the folk move ever one way, up, up, to the temple of -Aphrodite on the hill! How often have I watched them year by year as -they gather together for the great feast of Adonis! Yet I, who all my -life long have been Aphrodite's priestess--I have never been inside -her temple or joined with those who throng from far and wide to pay -her worship at this glad season. Verily, the goddess hath good cause -to be angered with me if I neglect her dues. Good nurse, let me go -to-morrow and join in the procession of the maidens, and let me lay my -tribute of flowers before her altar, that she may bless me and save me -from my evil fate." - -But the old nurse was very troubled at her words. - -"My child, thou hast thine own shrine within the house where thou -canst burn incense and offer up flowers to Aphrodite. She will answer -thy prayers as well from here as from the crowded temple in the town." - -"Then why do men build her great pillared temples, and throng from far -and near to keep her feast, if the fireside shrine and the simple -prayer would please her as well? Nay, she loveth rich gifts and music -and singing and the heads of many bowing as one man before her image. -Ah, nurse, let me go--let me go." - -"My child, why wouldst thou go when thou knowest that the world can -only bring thee sorrow? Stay here with me in peace." - -"Nay, there is no peace here for me. Aphrodite is angry, and she will -slay me by a slow and cruel death if I do not keep her feast this -year. Should I, her priestess, stay away, when even the meanest of the -folk gather together in her honour? All these years I have not gone, -and now she will stay her hand no more. As for the world and its -cruelty, fear not for that. Thou thyself shalt go with me, and stay by -my side till I join the procession of priestesses and maidens. Then I -will go up with them to the temple, and in their midst I shall be as -far from the world as in this tower. I long to stand within the great -white temple and hear the chanting of the priests. I long to see the -gleaming image of the goddess, and the statue of the risen Adonis, and -the altars sweet with incense and flowers. Ah, nurse, let me go, and -all the rest of the year, till the glad season comes round once more, -I will stay with thee in this tower and pine no more." - -So piteously did she beg that the old nurse had not the heart to -refuse, though she feared what might come of it. But she tried to -comfort herself with the thought that perchance, after all, the maiden -was right, and that Aphrodite was killing her by a slow and cruel -death, because she had never kept her solemn feast-day. - -The next day broke bright and fair, and Hero, as she looked out from -the window, was filled with joy. In the grey dawn she had risen, and -sat looking anxiously across the narrow sea towards Abydos and the low -line of hills on the further shore. - -"O Helios," she prayed, "bright and beautiful, shine down upon the -earth this day, and fill the hearts of all with gladness; for it is -Aphrodite's solemn feast, and the greatest day of all my life." - -And her prayer was not unanswered. Slowly the grey dawn turned to -saffron, and the golden disc of the sun rose over the silent hills and -scattered the rosy clouds north and south before him. With a cry of -joy Hero turned away from the window and ran to rouse the old dame in -the other room. - -"Nurse, nurse!" she cried, "the sun is shining, and the world has -awaked from sleep. It is time to pick the roses and the lilies fresh -with dew and weave them into garlands for the goddess. Come up, up, -and out with me to the garden." - -Without waiting for an answer, she tripped down the turret-stair and -out into the garden, and the old nurse sighed and followed slowly -behind. In the golden morning they gathered the roses and lilies, and -wove them into garlands and posies, and heaped up the loose flowers in -baskets. When all was ready they set out for the town. Though it was -yet early, the streets were thronged with pilgrims and folk hurrying -this way and that to the houses of their friends and kinsmen. Yet, -despite the bustle and confusion, there were few who had not leisure -to turn and watch the maiden and the old woman hastening along. - -"It is Hebe come down from the courts of heaven," they said--"she who -giveth to the deathless gods eternal youth and joy. None can look on -her face and be sad." - -And, indeed, all the sunshine of the morning seemed reflected in -Hero's face, so glad at heart was she. It was small wonder that men -turned and looked at her; for she walked as one of the Immortals, full -of dignity and grace. No evil thing had ever touched her or left its -mark upon her soul. But in a fair garden she had grown to womanhood, -where the breeze made music in the plane-trees and the waves beat time -upon the shore, and on the hill behind, the tall dark cypress-trees -kept silent watch above her. No angry word had ever reached her ears, -but as long as she had lived the love of one faithful heart had -shielded her. And now, though she knew it not, the call of life had -come to her, as it comes to every living thing, and with eager, open -arms she was answering it. In the midst of that bustling city crowd, -she was like a fair flower that brings into some restless sick-room -the scent of sunlit meadows and the murmur of dancing streams. As she -went she laughed and talked merrily to the old nurse beside her, and -ever and anon a flower would fall to the ground from the laden basket -she was carrying; and one of the crowd would quickly pick it up and -place it in his bosom, and carry away in his heart something of the -music of her laughter and the sunshine of her eyes. The old nurse when -she saw it was filled with fear, and hastened faster along; but Hero -saw none of these things, nor knew that she was different from other -folk. - -At length they reached the temple on the hill and went into the -chamber where Aphrodite's priestesses and maidens were to meet; and -they clad her in long white robes, and put a garland on her head. When -all were ready, they went and stood before the priest of the temple, -and he told them in what order they should walk. First came little -children, who scattered rose-leaves in the path, and behind them -followed maidens, playing upon pipes, and singing the hymn to Adonis -and Aphrodite. Next came the priest himself, and on either side of him -two maidens walked, and held above his head great fans of peacock's -plumes. After him followed the long procession of priestesses and -maidens, incense-bearers, and the keepers of the sacred doves. Last of -all came Hero, bearing in her hands a garland of roses and lilies to -lay at the feet of the great white statue of the goddess. Each year -the fairest of the maidens was chosen for this task, and in all that -throng of youth and beauty there was none more fair than she. With her -eyes upon the gleaming statue that shone from the dark recess above -the heads of the worshipping people, she walked as one in a dream. -About her the smoke of the incense rose, and to her ears the voices of -the singers sounded low and far away as they sang, - -"All hail to thee, Aphrodite, foam-born Queen of Love! Adonis, all -hail to thee! Thou art risen--thou art risen on this joyful day. No -more doth Death detain thee in his dark domain, nor Persephone -enshroud thee in the mists of the sad Underworld. But thou art come -back to the daylight and the flowers; and Aphrodite has dried her -tears. For once more by thy side, O fairest of mortal men, she wanders -through green glades and echoing caverns and by the shore of the -silver sea. The joy of her love has kindled the light of summer suns, -and like the west wind in the roses, her breath stirs gently in the -hearts of men, and the eyes of every living thing reflect the -brightness of her smile. All hail to thee. Aphrodite! Adonis and -Aphrodite, all hail!" - -As they sang, the choir of maidens parted this way and that, and Hero -walked up between them bearing the garland in her hands. When she had -laid it at the feet of the statue, the procession formed once more, -and, with music and singing, they marched round the colonnade to the -shrine of Adonis, and all the people followed after. Still Hero walked -as one in a dream, and when the procession halted, she turned into a -small recess and leant against a pillar to rest; for her part was -done, and the people pressed so close about her in the aisle that she -was glad to stand aside till the procession moved again. With her eyes -closed, she drank in the sweet scent of the incense and flowers, and -listened to the chanting of the choir, as they sang of the love of -Adonis and Aphrodite. How Adonis, the beautiful shepherd, the fairest -of mortal men, was loved by the Queen of Beauty, and all the long -summer days they shepherded his flocks together on the shady slopes of -Ida. But there came a time when the people of the country held a great -hunt, and chased the wild boar through grove and dale till he was -brought to bay in the greenwood; and foremost of those who rushed in -to the death was Adonis. But the boar in his agony turned round upon -him and pierced him in the thigh with his tusk, and wounded unto -death, his followers bore him away and laid him in the shade of an -oak. With a wild cry of sorrow Aphrodite came and knelt beside him, -and tried to call him back to life, but his head fell limp upon her -breast. The red drops of his blood were mingled with her tears, and -both turned to flowers as they fell upon the ground--his blood to the -crimson rose, and her tears to the pale, drooping windflower. All -through the woods and the echoing hills a cry of mourning was heard, -"Adonis, Adonis! O weep for Adonis! Adonis is dead." But though his -spirit had crossed the gloomy river and fled to the dark halls of -Hades, yet Death was not strong enough to hold him. The voice of his -love and of Aphrodite's pleaded together, and heaven and earth, and -the world of the dead, were moved by their prayer. Even the heart of -Pluto, the black-browed god of Death, was touched, and he said that -for only four months in the year must Adonis dwell beneath the earth, -but for the other eight he might live his old life with Aphrodite in -the sunlight. So he chose the season of the flowery spring-time to -come back to his love each year, and only the cold dark months of -winter did he spend in the land below. So did a great love prevail and -conquer even the black lord of Death. - -As Hero listened to the well-known tale, her heart was moved, and she -felt that if ever she loved, her love would be as the love of Adonis -and Aphrodite--stronger than death; and she sighed as she remembered -how she must live lonely all her days in the tower by the sea. - -As though in answer to her sigh, she felt a light touch upon her arm, -and, raising her head, she found herself face to face with a young -man. She was about to turn away in anger and return to her place in -the procession, but the look of his eyes held her spellbound, so full -of fire and yet so sad were they. For a moment she stood gazing at -him, and the fire of his eyes seemed to light another in her heart and -set her whole frame aglow. The hot blood rushed to her face, and she -lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs trembled beneath her, so -that she leant back against the pillar for support. - -"I ask your pardon, gentle lady," said the man; "forgive my rudeness. -Though thou knowest me not, I have known thee for many a long year, -and day and night have I prayed the gods that I might meet thee face -to face. This day Aphrodite has heard my prayer. If I have seemed -presumptuous, forgive me. 'Twas the goddess nerved my arm to touch -thee." - -And he stood with bowed head before her, awaiting her reply. - -[Illustration: She lowered her eyes in confusion, and her limbs -trembled beneath her so that she leant back against the pillar for -support.] - -"Who art thou, stranger?" asked Hero. "Thou mistakest me, surely, for -some other maid. Never till this day have I set foot beyond my tower, -and to that lonely spot cometh no man, nor have I ever spoken with -such as thee before." - -"My name is Leander," said the stranger, "and I dwell in white Abydos -across the water. Full well do I know thy lonely tower; for as I ply -to and fro between Sestos and Abydos on my father's business, I pass -close beneath its walls, and day by day have I seen thee sitting at -thy window looking out across the sea. Ah, lady, be not angry with me! -The first day I saw thee thy beauty set my heart aflame, and since -then I have lived for thee alone." - -"Thy words stir me strangely, sir," answered Hero. "I know not what to -say to thee." - -"Thou art not angry, then?" he cried. "Thou wilt let me speak my love? -Ah, maiden, all these years have I loved thee with a true heart's -devotion! If my love could find but ever so faint an answer in thy -heart, I would be content." - -And he raised his eyes full of hope and joy to her face. But she -turned aside her head to hide the answering fire of her eyes. - -"Alas, sir!" she said, "mine is a heart that must never beat for any -living man. I am doomed to dwell in yonder tower lonely all my days, -for if I go forth and mix with the world, I shall die by the curse of -Heaven before my time." - -"I have heard thy tale, lady; for even the most secret things are -noised abroad by rumour. Far be it from me to bring the curse upon -thy head. If thou couldst give me thy love, there would be no need for -thee to come forth into the world. I have thought of that. Each day we -would live our lives as we have done till now. But at night, when none -would miss me, I would come to thee. No living soul should know my -secret--no, nor yet the lifeless boards of my boat; for even dumb wood -can tell a tale if need be. Nay, these two arms shall bear me. Look -not fearful, lady. Full often have they borne me to and fro across -this narrow sea from mere love of sport. With thee as the prize they -would bear me twice as far." - -As he spoke he held them out towards her, and, indeed, they were -goodly arms to look upon, and his face and form did them no shame -either. - -Then Hero raised her eyes and looked him full in the face. - -"Leander," she said, "I know not what charm or magic thou hast used, -but I am as clay in thy hands. 'Tis not thy words have conquered me; -in thy reasoning I could find many a flaw. Though one short hour ago I -had never seen thee, yet now I feel that I have known thee always, and -that life apart from thee were worse than death." - -"Ah, Hero!" he cried, and took her hand in his; "the gods have heard -my prayer. Though thine eyes had never seen me, the voice of my heart -reached thee long ago, and thy soul came out to mine. 'Twas in answer -to my call that thou didst come to-day to the feast; for I prayed to -Aphrodite to move thy heart, or I knew not how I should ever speak to -thee. This very night, beloved, I will come to thee, and the light -which thou burnest in thy chamber shall be my guiding star." - -"Ah, how carefully will I trim that torch to-night!" she said, "that -it may burn brightly for thee. Every evening I put it there as a -beacon-light for the ships that pass in the night; but to-night it -shall burn for thee--for thee alone." - -Now the service was ended before the shrine, and the train of people -began to move once more. With one last look and a pressing of hands -they parted, and Hero returned to her place in the procession. - -When all was ended, the old nurse hastened to the robing-room. In the -crowd inside the temple she had lost sight of Hero, and her heart was -full of fears for the maiden. As she helped her to lay aside her -festal robes and garland, she gazed anxiously at her. - -"Art thou content to come home with me, my child," she asked, "or has -the glamour of the world ensnared thee?" - -"Ah, nurse!" she cried joyously, "never, never have I loved my tower -so well. Let us hasten home, and in the quiet of the evening I will -tell thee that of which my heart is full." - -The old dame was glad when she found her so ready to go home, and they -hastened silently through the crowded streets. As the sun was setting -behind the hills, and the shadows fell cool and long across the garden -slopes, Hero sat at her nurse's feet, and told her of the story of -Leander's love, and how that night would make them man and wife. When -she had ended her tale, the old dame took her face between her hands -and looked her in the eyes. - -"Hero," she said, "this thing can never be. I have failed in my -trust. I have listened to thy pleading, and let thee out into the -world, and now through this man the curse of the gods will be -fulfilled. Think no more of him. Let this day be to thee as though it -had never been, and thou mayst yet escape thy doom." - -But Hero sprang to her feet. - -"What!" she cried; "thou wouldst take away the only joy of my life -now, when I have just found it? Never! Curse or no curse, Leander -shall be my wedded husband. Ah, nurse!" she added, falling on her -knees once more, "methinks that over all the joys of life the gods -hang a curse, and that it lies not with us poor mortals to choose -between them. We must take both and live, or neither and be dead all -our days on earth. Thou canst not hold me now; I have chosen my lot." - -Nothing that the old dame could say availed to change her purpose, but -with her heart full of joy she put on her brightest robes and sat by -the lighted torch in her chamber, looking out across the sea, and -waiting for the night. True to his word, Leander came as soon as -darkness fell, and the old dame let him in by the turret door. -Carefully she shaded her lamp with her hand so that the light fell -full upon his face, that she might see what manner of man he was. He -had dried himself as best he might with leaves and grass from the -garden, but his hair hung in damp clusters about his head, and his -tunic clung wet about him. Yet, in spite of all, he was full fair to -look upon--a very god for strength and beauty. The old dame was -pleased when she saw him, for he had braved danger and discomfort to -win his bride, and he was a proper man withal, and worthy of so fair a -maid as Hero. So she led him upstairs and gave him change of raiment, -and when he was ready she took him to Hero's chamber. There before the -shrine of Aphrodite they plighted their troth, with but one faithful -soul to witness their vows, and the music of the wind and the waves -for their marriage hymn. To the two lovers the night fled by on wings -of lightning, and all too soon they had to say farewell; for ere day -dawned Leander must have reached the further shore. But parting was -sweet sorrow for those who so soon would meet again. - -So for many a day their lives ran smoothly on. Each night Hero lighted -her torch; each night Leander was guided by its light, and, true to -his word, swam across the narrow sea that divided him from his wife. -The colour came back to Hero's cheeks and the brightness to her eyes, -and she pined no more to leave the tower and go out into the world. -When the old dame saw how happy she was, she was glad that things had -fallen out so, and prayed that for many a long year the gods would be -pleased to bless their wedded love. - -Meantime Leander thought that no one knew of the nightly voyage save -Hero and the old dame her nurse, yet, for all his secrecy, there was -one who each night watched for him with a longing as great as Hero's -own. In the depths of the blue Ægean the daughters of Nereus -dwell--the fair nymphs of the ocean. All the day long they play -beneath the waters, and dance hand in hand along the yellow sands and -the shell-strewn hollows of the sea. But at night, when the eyes of -men are darkened, they come up above the water and, cradled in the -bosom of the waves, swing gently to and fro in the soft summer air; -and the white gleam of their arms is the glint of ripples in the -moonlight. But when the wild storm-wind shrieks over the sea and the -skies are dark and lowering, they forget their fears, and are filled -with madness. Then they chase each other across the black waters with -wild locks flying in the wind, and woe to those who are out upon the -high seas when the Nereids dance in the storm, for their dance is the -dance of Death. The fire of the lightning runs hot in their veins as -they fly on the wings of the whirlwind, and wherever they go the waves -hiss white and angry behind them. On the crests of the billows they -rise and fall, and with the voice of the storm-wind they shriek aloud, -and call upon all things to join in their dance; and they leap on the -decks of the travailing ships, and man, woman, and child they clasp in -their cruel white arms, crying, "Come, dance with us over the sea." -With a force that none can withstand they bear them away, and whirl -them round in the dance of Death, till they hang limp and lifeless in -their arms. Then they toss them aside, nothing caring, to be washed -ashore in the wan morning light, or to sink to a nameless grave in the -depths of the ocean. Wherever they have passed wreck and ruin lie -behind; but they rush on, till the storm dies away, and they sink down -exhausted to their home in the sea. Sometimes in the calm green waters -below they find the bodies of those they have drowned in their frenzy, -but they know them not; for all that they did when the spirit of the -storm was upon them they forget, and it passes from their minds as a -dream dies at break of day. So when they see the bodies lying still -and lifeless, they call to them to come and play with them in the -water, and when they get no answer, they creep closer, and find that -their eyes are closed. Then they know that, however long they call, -they will never get an answer, for they have learnt that those whose -eyes are closed have neither life nor voice, but are as the rocks and -stones. But the Nereids know not sleep nor death, and when they look -upon one lying dead they think he has always been so; and they do not -grieve nor weep for him, for the gods did not make them for grief, but -to be the bringers of beauty wherever they go, and to turn all foul -things fair. So they gather the shells and the bright seaweeds, and -cover the body where it lies, and it sleeps in beauty and peace in the -hollows of the sea. - -One of these same Nereids it was who saw Leander as he swam across the -Hellespont each night, and she loved him for his beauty, and longed to -have him as her playfellow. So she swam near to him on the crest of -the dancing waves, and called to him softly, - -"O child of the green earth, come, come with me, and play with me and -my sisters in the depths of the blue Ægean." - -But he saw her not, nor listened to her pleading, for his eyes were -darkened. To him the gleam of her arms was the moonshine on the water, -and the sound of her voice like the west wind on the waves. - -So she followed him in vain across the channel, and when he went up -into the tower she sat below upon a rock, and watched for him to -appear at the window; and she saw Hero sitting by the torch waiting -for her lover, and heard her cry of joy as she ran to greet him when -he came. Then again she called to them softly, - -"O children of the green earth, come and play with me. I will crown -your heads with white sea-pearls, and you shall sit on coral thrones -beneath the waves, and be king and queen over all the nymphs of the -sea." - -But as they stood hand in hand at the window, they saw her not, and -heard only the murmur of the ripples on the beach. So she sat calling -in vain all the night long. Before the grey morning dawned Leander -came down, and when he reached the shore he turned and called, - -"Farewell, Hero!" - -And Hero, leaning from her window, answered, - -"Leander, farewell!" - -So the sea-nymph learnt to know their names, and every night she would -sit sadly calling them, and they heard her not. - -But one night all the winds of heaven were loosed, and they rushed -with a wild shriek over the face of the waters, and lashed them to a -fury of white-maned waves. With a deafening crash the thunder echoed -through the hills, and the pale forked lightning lit the sky from east -to west. With white cheeks and a heart full of fear, Hero knelt before -the shrine in her chamber, and prayed the gods to have mercy on the -sailors out at sea, and, above all, to grant that Leander had not set -out ere the storm began. - -Meanwhile Leander on the other side had seen the storm approaching, -and he knew full well that when the seas ran high no man could swim -the channel and reach the other shore alive. So he sat by his window -and longed for the storm to be spent and the day to dawn; for the -night without Hero was to him but misery. Across the stream he could -see the torch burning fitfully in the gale. - -"The gods grant she think me not faithless," he said, "for not going -to her this night." - -As he sat and watched, the storm grew wilder and more terrible. In the -swirling, seething waters the Nereid danced with the madness of the -tempest in her heart, up and down over the crested waves, with the -storm wind whistling through her hair. In the gleam of the -lightning-flash she held out her arms to the shore and called, - -"Come and dance with me. Leander, O Leander, come!" - -As she called, the east wind rushed with a wild shriek across the -water, and blew out the beacon light in Hero's chamber. Leander at his -window saw the pale light disappear and return no more. A blinding -flash of lightning rent the sky, and the rattle of the thunder sounded -as though the mountains of the earth were falling. Then the spirit of -the storm came upon him too, and he heard the voice of the sea-nymph -calling with a wild, unearthly shriek, - -"Leander, O Leander, come!" - -And he thought it was the voice of Hero calling him in deadly peril. -Perchance the thunderbolt had struck her tower, and it had crashed in -ruins about her and borne her with its falling stones into the rushing -stream below. In a mad frenzy, scarce knowing what he did, he plunged -into the seething waters and struggled in the waves with the strength -of despair. With a wild cry of joy the sea-nymph caught him in her -arms. "At last, at last, thou hast heard my call," she said. - -Up and down through the hissing waves she bore him, now plunging down, -deep, deep, into the calm green water below, now rushing round and -round in a whirlpool, now leaping from the crest of one white wave -into the boiling foam of the next, till he lay limp and breathless in -her arms. She heeded not, but bore him on, ever on, across the water -till they came beneath Hero's tower. Then, rising on the crest of the -waves that beat against the wall, she called, - -"Come, join with us in the storm-dance! Come, Hero, Hero!" - -In the breath of the east wind the stinging foam beat against the -window like one knocking in wild alarm, and the echo of the -sea-nymph's cry reached the maiden as she knelt before the shrine. -Filled with terror, she rushed to the window and looked down on the -seething water. A brilliant flash of lightning blazed across the sky, -and for a moment all was light as day. On the bosom of a breaking wave -she saw Leander with his arms tossed helpless about him, and his head -thrown back pale and lifeless, and above him stood the sea-nymph in a -robe of flashing foam. With a cry of despair Hero leaped to the sill -and plunged into the roaring waves, and with her arms about Leander, -she, too, was tossed along in the dance of Death, till the storm died -away and the nymph bore them down side by side to the floor of the -blue Ægean. There, true to her word, she set them on thrones of coral, -and twined white sea-pearls in their hair, and in time the winding -seaweeds and clinging ocean flowers wove a shroud of beauty about -them; and their bodies slept side by side in the fair ocean depths. So -did it come to pass that the curse of the gods was fulfilled. - -But whether it was truly a curse or a blessing, who shall say? For -they lived and loved with a love that has become famous among men, and -side by side they died. And does not the poet tell us of the islands -of the blest, where the souls of the brave and true abide for ever; -where the breeze blows always bright and fresh, and the golden fruits -are glowing, and the crimson-flowered meadows before the city are full -of the shade of trees of frankincense? In that far land there is no -death nor parting, no sorrow and no tears, but those who have been -true on earth dwell ever side by side. If the poet is right, Hero and -Leander are there together, where no storm can reach them and no sea -can part them ever again. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Sacrifice of Alcestis - - -I - -Once upon a time when Pelias, the crafty king, ruled in Iolchos by the -sea, his nephew Jason came and tried to win back from him the land -that was his by right. But Pelias put him off with cunning words, and -sent him forth to Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece, thinking -that so he need never look upon his face again. Jason, therefore, who -was brave and stout of heart, and feared not man nor beast, sent a -proclamation through the land, bidding all who loved adventure to join -him in the good ship _Argo_, and sail with him for the Golden Fleece. -From the length and breadth of Hellas the heroes and sons of the -Immortals flocked. Among them came Admetus of Pheræ, in the first -bloom of his manhood, and sailing with the Argonauts, he braved all -the terrors of that fearful voyage, and sat at his oar like a man in -the midst of deadly peril. - -After many a long day the remnant of the heroes who had sailed away -from Iolchos returned with the Golden Fleece; and standing before -proud Pelias, they laid it at his feet. In the great hall of the -palace he received them sitting on his throne: on his right hand sat -Philomache his wife, and all about him stood his daughters, Peisidice -and Asteropæa, Hippothoe, and Evadne, and Alcestis--maidens whose -beauty would gladden any father's heart. But fairest of the fair, as -the moon among stars, was Alcestis. When Admetus looked upon her face, -his heart was filled with love for her, and he swore a great oath that -he would live and die unwed, or else have Alcestis to wife. - -When Pelias had welcomed back the Argonauts, he bid the henchmen -spread the tables in the hall, and soon the king with his son Acastus -and all the menfolk were seated with the heroes round the well-filled -board. Against a pillar leant a minstrel, who sang of great deeds and -heroes, and how the good ship _Argo_ had braved the terrors of the -seas; while the daughters of Pelias bore round the sweet dark wine in -flagons, and filled up the golden goblets. To Alcestis it fell to fill -up the cup of Admetus, and as he held it out towards her their eyes -met, and she blushed beneath his gaze, and tried to hide her confusion -in the folds of her veil. She was vexed with herself for the blush and -vexed with him for having called it forth. Yet withal her heart beat -fast, and the beating of it was not altogether born of wrath; for -Admetus was a proper man in the prime of life, who had sailed the high -seas and seen danger face to face, and a brave man's admiration is -ever dear to a woman's heart. So it came to pass that when Admetus -drew from his breast a lock of the Golden Fleece, which Jason had -given him for a memorial, and held it forth to her, she refused it -not, but took it and hid it in the folds of her gown, and when Admetus -was gone away she would draw it forth and sigh as she looked at it. - -When Admetus saw that she did not altogether disdain him, he was glad -at heart, and plucked up all his courage, and went and stood before -the king her father, and boldly asked her hand in marriage. As he -spoke the king's brow darkened, for he loved not Jason nor any of his -crew. He had sent them forth, as he thought, to their death, and now -they were come home to wrest the kingdom from him and give it to the -lawful heir. So he cast about in his mind for some excuse; for Admetus -was nobly born, and heir to a great kingdom, and he could not say him -nay without good reason. In his trouble he bethought him of an ancient -oracle which a soothsayer had spoken when Alcestis lay a babe upon her -mother's breast. Till now he had put aside all thought of it, and had -looked upon the seer as a mad prophet whose words were of no account. -But now that they would serve him in his need, he pretended that he -had always laid them up in his heart, and intended to abide by them. - -"Young man," he said, "they who would woo my child Alcestis must woo -and win her as the gods have ordered. When she lay in her mother's -arms, there came a prophet and stood over her and spake, saying, -'Child of evil fortune! whosoever thou weddest, woe to thy wedded -life, sobeit thy lord come not to bear thee away in a chariot drawn by -a lion and a boar.' Thus spake the prophet of the gods, and his words -shall surely come to pass. Think not, then, that I will give my -daughter up to misery, or that thou hast but to look on her beauty -and long for her, to have her for thine own. Nay; hence, away, and -bethink thee how thou canst so beguile a lion's heart that he shall -walk tamely in the yoke beside his lawful prey. Then, and then only, -when thou comest driving this strange pair shalt thou have Alcestis -for thy wife." - -Admetus was sad at heart when he heard the king's words, and he set -out sorrowfully home for the halls of Pheres, his father; for he -thought that this thing was beyond the power of mortal man to do, and -that all his life long he must live in loneliness of soul, without -Alcestis to wife. - -When they heard of their son's return, Pheres and Periclymene, his -wife, came forth to greet him, and fell upon his neck and embraced him -with tears of joy. A great feast was prepared, and the altars of the -gods sent up to heaven the savoury smoke of sacrifice, and all the -people rejoiced together at the return of the hero their land had sent -forth. - -After all the feasting and merrymaking was ended, Pheres drew his son -aside to his chamber and said, - -"My son, whilst thou hast been away in strange lands the hand of Time -hath dealt heavily with me. My knees are weak beneath me, my hair is -white with age, and all my strength is gone. Year by year it groweth -harder for me to ride forth among my people, and the folk on the far -boundary know my face no more, and I cannot say whether all is well -with them. Time is it for me to give my crown and sceptre to a younger -man, and thou hast shown thyself worthy to rule. Take now the kingdom -from my hand, that thy mother and I may pass our last years in peace -together. A mighty kingdom have I builded up for thee, and worthy of -mighty kings. See to it, then, that thou take to wife some princess of -a royal house and rear up a son to rule the land when thou art dead." - -And Admetus answered, - -"The kingdom will I take from thee right gladly, my father, and rule -it well and wisely so long as the gods shall give me strength. But as -to taking a wife in my halls, that I can never do." - -Then he told him of his love for Alcestis, and how he could never hope -to win her. But his father laughed and shook his head. - -"'Tis the way of hot-headed youth to think that in all the wide world -one woman alone hath a fair face and bright eyes. Time and the beauty -of another woman shall heal thy malady, never fear." - -"Time and another woman may drive me to my death," he answered hotly, -"but never will I wed with any maid save Alcestis alone, whom I love." - -And he strode in anger from the room. But Pheres laughed the louder. - -"Verily, young blood is the same the whole world through," said he. - -So Admetus became King of Pheræ, and ruled in his father's stead; and -from the shores of the sea below Pelion to the land of the Molossians, -the mountain-folk of the Far West, his name was held in honour among -his people; for the land had peace in his day, and the valleys stood -thick with corn, and by the fair-flowing waters of Boebe the shepherd -played his pipes, and his flocks wandered browsing about the green -meadows. No stranger was ever turned away from the palace doors, but, -however poor and ragged he might be, he was welcomed right gladly, and -feasted in the halls and sped upon his way with kindly words. So it -came to pass that through the length and breadth of Hellas, when men -spoke of good cheer and hospitality, they always raised the cup in -honour of Admetus, the kindliest of hosts to rich and poor alike. - - -II - -One day as Admetus sat at meat in the great hall with his parents and -all the household, a thing befell which changed the course of his -whole life. Inside the fire burnt brightly on the hearth, and the -torches on the walls sent a cheerful gleam through the shadowy -vastness. But outside the wind howled about the corners of the palace -like Furies in their wrath, and anon it sunk down to a sob and a wail, -while the lashing of the rain against the walls was as the whip of a -furious driver urging on his steeds. And lo! from out the darkness of -the storm there came a man, who stood in the doorway of the great hall -and looked round about upon the company. Many a long mile must he have -come that day in the teeth of the gale, for from head to foot he was -splashed with mud, and the water ran from his ragged cloak in -streamlets, making a pool upon the floor. In his hand he carried a -staff; from a strap about his body hung a strange instrument such as -no man in the hall had ever seen before; and he held his head up -proudly and looked fearlessly about him, so that for all his sorry -raiment he seemed no common beggar, but a young king in all his pride. -A hush fell upon the people as they gazed, for his eyes shone -strangely bright, and in the darkness of the shadowy doorway his -stature seemed greater than that of mortal man. When he had looked his -fill and saw where Admetus sat, he strode across the hall with great -swinging strides, and came and stood before him. As he walked the -people looked silently after him, for a great ship running before the -wind was not more fair than he. - -"O king," he said, and his voice rang clear and mellow through the -hall, "a suppliant I stand before thee, and my hand is red with blood. -Say, wilt thou receive me in thy halls, or wilt thou turn me forth -into the storm and darkness?" - -And Admetus marvelled at his words. - -"Who art thou, stranger, to make this bold request? When a man's hand -is stained with blood, 'tis to the altars of the gods that he should -fly for cleansing, and not bring pollution to the palaces of kings." - -"My name it behoveth thee not to know now, nor the deed I have done. -Let it suffice thee when I say that not yet have the altars of that -god been built who hath the power to cleanse me from blood-guiltiness. -Nay, myself I must work out mine own cleansing, and for the waxing and -the waning of twelve moons it is decreed that I must serve a mortal -man. Wilt thou take me for thine herdsman--yea or nay?" - -At this Admetus marvelled the more, and looked hard in the face of the -stranger, but his eyes fell beneath the other's fearless gaze as those -of a dog beneath his master's; and he answered him never a word, for -he felt that the thought of his heart lay writ beneath that piercing -look as clear as writing on a tablet. So he signed to his attendants, -and they led the stranger forth and bathed him in warm water, and -anointing him, clad him in fresh sweet linen and a tunic of silk. When -all was accomplished, they led him back to the hall; and if the people -had marvelled before at his beauty, their wonder was increased twofold -as they gazed at him now. - -When he had taken his fill of meat and wine, the stranger turned to -Admetus and said, - -"My noble host, fain would I, in some poor measure, requite thee and -thy household for kindness to a wanderer and a suppliant. I have some -small skill in song, and have fashioned me an instrument whereon I -play sweet harmonies, that frame the melody of my song like the golden -setting of a gem. Have I thy leave to sing before thee in thy halls?" - -As Admetus bowed his head the stranger loosed the curious instrument -from his girdle. The body of it was the hollow shell of a tortoise, in -the rim of which two twisted horns were cunningly fitted, joined -together towards the top by a silver band. The space between the band -and the furthermost edge of the shell was spanned by seven strings of -gold. Lovingly he drew his fingers across the strings, and the chords -rang soft and true through the silence of the hall, as he played a -prelude to his song, and anon raised his voice and sang. He sang a -strange, sweet song, such as no man there had ever heard, and yet in -the depths of his soul each one of them felt that he had known it -before he was born. For the song that the stranger sang was the song -that the stars first sang together when the universe was born, and -light sprang forth from the darkness. The melody they made that day -vibrates for ever till the end of time. Musicians and artists and -poets, and those whom the gods love, hear it and sing it, each in his -separate way, for those who have forgotten the sound of it. Deep in -the heart of every man it lies voiceless, till once at least in his -lifetime the hand of the divine musician sets the chords vibrating, -and opens the ears of the soul to hear the heavenly harmonies. Such -was the song that the stranger sang, and the people sat breathless -beneath his spell, and gazing deep into the red-hot heart of the fire, -saw strange dreams and visions. The very dogs awoke from their sleep, -and crept closer to the music, and with their heads between their -paws, gazed with unblinking eyes at the singer; and a magic thrill ran -round the circle of them that listened, both man and beast, and welded -and fused their souls in one, so that they felt that the life in them -all was the same. When the song was ended, silence fell upon all -things--even the storm outside had ceased to rage; and Time stood -still as each man sat motionless in his seat, with heart too full for -speech. But at length the spell was broken, and with a sigh and a -whisper, they glided away to their rest, till Admetus and the stranger -were left face to face before the hearth. - -"O divine musician," said Admetus, "I know not who thou art. This only -do I know, that I could worship thee for the godlike beauty of thy -song, and follow thee and serve thee all my days." - -"Nay, O king; 'tis destined that I must serve thee, and be thy -servant for a year. To-morrow I will lay aside this silken doublet, -and put on the dress that suits my station, and go forth with the -other shepherds of thy flocks." - -"O stranger, this thing can never be. Who am I that thou shouldst be -my servant?" - -"Thou art the man who turneth not the stranger from thy doors, though -his hands, like mine, be red with blood. As for me, I must work out my -cleansing, as I told thee. For blood-guiltiness is mine, though I have -not sinned in the shedding thereof. But even Zeus himself, thou -knowest, hath not reached wisdom and might, save by sore struggle -against powers less wise than he. Happy am I if by the service of an -upright man I may be purified." - -From that day forth the stranger became a herdsman in the halls of -Admetus, and in no wise would he be treated differently from the other -servants. Clad in the coarse, rough homespun of a shepherd, he would -go forth at early dawn with the flocks, and at eventide return and sit -among his fellows at the lower table. The hearts of all the household -were warmed towards him, and it seemed that in his presence no evil -thing could live; for if ever a quarrel or strife of tongues arose, a -look from the stranger would take all the spirit from the combatants, -and the matter fell dead between them like a ball at the feet of -listless players--nay, it seemed that he could read the very thoughts -of their inmost hearts, and all malice and unkindness withered away in -the sunshine of his presence, like sprigs that have no root. Strange -tales were told of how he shepherded his flocks, for the shepherd -lads who went forth with him at dawn would lie at his feet in some -shady grove whilst the flocks browsed close at hand; and he would take -his lyre and sing to them of all things in heaven and earth, and at -the sound of his voice the hearts of all living things were moved. -From the rocky heights of Othrys the lion came down and fawned at his -feet with bloodless fangs, and the spotted lynxes gambolled with the -flocks. The shy fawns forgot their fears and left the shelter of the -tall pine-woods, and danced about his lyre with fairy feet; for the -magic of his singing made the whole world kin, and the bow and the -arrow were laid aside in those days, and no watchman stood upon the -heights to guard the herds from beasts of prey. But the flocks -increased and multiplied, and the earth brought forth rich harvests of -corn and fruit, and all the land had peace. So Admetus loved and -honoured his strange herdsman above all his fellows, and took counsel -with him, and followed his advice in all things. - - -III - -Meanwhile in Iolchos by the sea the old king Pelias had died. His son -Acastus succeeded to his throne, and, as the custom was, held great -games in honour of his father. Far and wide through Hellas he sent the -news, and bade all men of might come and take part in the contests of -running and wrestling and hurling the quoit. To the victors in each -trial he offered to give one of his sisters in marriage, but for -Alcestis he made the contest doubly hard, for she was the fairest and -noblest of the daughters of Pelias, and he knew that the suitors -would flock without number for her hand if the task that was set them -was not well-nigh impossible. So he ordained that he who would win her -must prove himself the mightiest of all men in the field that day, and -that, moreover, he must come to bear away his bride in a chariot drawn -by a lion and a boar; for so the king, her father, had ordered in -obedience to the words of the prophet. - -When Admetus heard the news, the fire of his love for Alcestis burst -forth into flame, and he felt that he could conquer the whole world to -win her. When he went to rest that night he could dream of nought but -her, and of how all men would marvel when they saw him come to bear -her away in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. How he was to train -this strange yoke-pair he knew not, but he felt that Alcestis was not -one whom the gods had fated to live unwedded all her days. From the -length and breadth of Hellas men would flock to woo her, and surely -from all the host one would be found to do this deed, and why should -he not be that one? So he argued, and dreamed sweet dreams of love and -happiness. But,--whether it be that sweet dreams take the heart from a -man, because in sleep they put within his grasp visions which, on -waking, he finds to be but shadows of a shade, and he longs to clasp -them once again without the labour and toil which alone on earth can -bring man happiness,--certain it is that when he awoke Admetus felt -that the task was hopeless, and that all his efforts would be vain. -His heart was in a tumult; his longing for Alcestis was as strong as -ever, but the confidence of winning her was gone. He went out into the -woodland and threw himself on the grass beside the stream and gazed -moodily into the dark depths of a pool. Its silent stillness so -maddened him that he cast a pebble into the midst, and watched it as -it slowly sank, feeling that it was an image of his own life. An hour -or more he sat there idly playing with the pebbles and the water, -heavy at heart, and a prey to morbid fancies. At length he was roused -from his dreaming by the sound of music far away. Slowly it drew -nearer, and from the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman -playing on his lyre, followed by his flocks and the wild creatures of -the forest. Without a word he came and sat beside Admetus at the -water's edge, and the animals lay grouped around. Then he changed the -key of his song from a merry dance-tune to a solemn lay, and the -burden of his song was love--how love, if it were but strong and pure, -could conquer the whole world and accomplish deeds undreamt of. As -Admetus listened, the tumult of his heart was stilled, and once again -the flower of hope sprang up in his breast--not the phantom flower -that springs from idle dreams, but the bright living flower whose -roots are firmly planted in the will to do and dare all things to win -the promised prize. - -When the herdsman had ended his song, he laid aside his lyre and gazed -at Admetus. - -"Dost thou love this maiden with all thy heart and soul, Admetus?" he -asked. - -"I would face the whole world to win her," said he. - -"Wouldst thou lay down thy life for her?" - -"Why ask so poor a sacrifice? My life without her would be a thing of -nought." - -[Illustration: From the shadow of the trees came the strange herdsman, -playing on his lyre.] - -Again the herdsman gazed at him, and seemed to read his inmost soul. - -"In sooth, I verily believe that, were death now to face thee, thou -wouldst gladly die for her. Go forth, then, and win thy bride, and I -will help thee all I can. If thou fulfil the first part of the test, I -will see to it that thou fail not in the second." - -"Master," cried Admetus, "what meanest thou?" - -"Go thou and enter the lists for Alcestis, and show thyself the best -man in the field that day. When they hail thee victor, and bid thee -come to fetch away thy bride, as her father willed, answer boldly that -the next day at noon thou wilt come in a chariot drawn by a lion and a -boar to bear her away to thine own land. Then do thou hasten alone to -the wood that lies on the road to Pheræ, five miles from Iolchos, and -there, by the temple of Hecate, wilt thou find me and the chariot -ready harnessed. Believest thou that I can do this thing?" - -"O master, do I not see before me the lion lying tamely by the sheep -and the wolf by the side of the lamb? How can I doubt thy power?" - -"So be it, then. One word of counsel would I give thee: in the day of -thy triumph forget not the gods." - -"From my youth upwards have I honoured the gods, O stranger. How, -then, in the day of my triumph, should I forget them?" - -"May they deliver thee in the hour of thy wealth, Admetus, and save -thee from blindness and hardness of heart! Above all, when thou art -coming home with thy bride, beware lest in thy haste thou pass by the -altar of Hecate without the tribute of a prayer. Mighty is the -goddess, and in her hands are life and death. The sun with his glad -warm rays shines down upon the bosom of the earth, and draws forth the -young corn from her breast, and with loving hand he paints the purple -bloom of the grape. But when summer skies are cloudless, and the -breath of the breeze smites hot upon the land, men pray for rain and -the cooling veil of mists to hide the parched and thirsty fields from -the cruel shafts of his rays. Even so is the might of Hecate; in one -hand she hath a blessing, in the other a curse. She may stand beside -thy wife in the hour of her need, and bring thy children with joy into -the world (for the life of all young things she loveth); or if she be -slighted, she can blast the parent-stock ere it hath time to bear -fruit, and cut off the fair promise of the race." - -"Surely, I will not forget her," said Admetus. - -"An hour before noon, then, on the day after the contest of the -suitors, I will await thee in the wood. May the gods speed thee in thy -trial!" - - -IV - -On the day before the games were to be held Alcestis went on to the -roof of the palace, and looked down upon the great courtyard below. -All was bustle and confusion. The bronze gates stood wide upon their -hinges, and a stream of people passed to and fro. The chariots of the -suitors thundered across the pavement. Through the colonnades -re-echoed the clattering of horses' hoofs and the clanging of harness -chains, and from his post at the gateway the warder shouted his orders -to the pages and attendants. Far out across the country Alcestis -gazed and traced the white roadway where it wound over the bosom of -the plain. He for whom she was looking had not entered the courtyard, -and she strained her eyes to see whether, among all the folk who were -wending their way towards the city, she could find him. But the palace -stood high upon the hill, with the houses of the town nestling below, -and the folk upon the road were like flies, so small and black they -seemed upon the dusty highway. Many a long hour she watched upon the -roof, and still he came not. At length the sun went down behind the -mountains in a glory of crimson and gold, and the purple hills cast -their shadow across the silent plain. Then Alcestis laid her head upon -her arm, and great tears stole through her fingers, and fell upon the -cold stone parapet. - -"Ah me, the gods are cruel!" she sobbed. "They have planted the seed -of love within my heart, and now they would have me tear it out. Hard -is a woman's lot. In bitterness of soul she sits within, whilst out in -the great world men fight for her beauty, as though she were some -painted image or lifeless weight of gold. On the slipping of a foot or -the cast of a die her fate may rest for weal or woe, and the happiness -of her life hang upon the issue of a moment." - -Then she felt in her bosom for the lock of the Golden Fleece which -Admetus had given her, and drew it forth and kissed it. - -"Alas, he has forgotten me! He is a great king now, and thinks no more -of the maiden in whose eyes he looked when he first came back from his -voyage." - -Sadly she put the lock back in her bosom, and turned and went down the -turret-stair. It was close upon the hour when all the suitors were to -be feasted in the great hall, and with her sisters she was to sing the -pæan song at the pouring of the third libation. Full often had she -sung it in her father's halls; for only unwedded maidens, pure and -innocent of soul, might sing it, and ask for blessings on their home -and kindred, and return thanks to great Zeus, the saviour, for the -gladness of a well-filled board and the happy faces of friends and -kinsfolk round the hearth. Her heart was heavy within her when she -thought that now for the last time this task would be hers, and that -only one more sun would set before she would be far away in a strange -land, the wife of a man whose very name she knew not yet. Her one hope -lay in the words of the prophet and the will of her father, that she -should wed that man only who could come to bear her away in a chariot -drawn by a lion and a boar; and from the depths of her soul she prayed -that all might find the task impossible. - -"Better to die a maiden," she thought, "than to be the prize of a man -I do not love." - -As she reached the bottom of the stair she heard her sisters calling. - -"Alcestis, Alcestis, where art thou? The feast is wellnigh finished, -and all men wait for us to sing the pæan song. Tarry no longer, but -hasten and come." - -"I come, I come," she answered. "Yet the song of joy upon my lips will -echo like a dirge through the chambers of my soul." - -And the sisters marvelled at her, and shook their heads. - -"She hath always wayward fancies," they whispered, "and is different -from other folk." - -Their hearts were a-flutter with hope and joy, for on the morrow they -would each one be wedded to a brave man, and go to a strange new land, -and be queens in their own palaces. So they took no heed of her words, -but tripped along the galleries with joyful feet, and took their -places in the crowded hall. After them came Alcestis. Slowly, and with -sad, unseeing eyes, she took her seat beside them. - -Meanwhile Admetus had tarried alone outside the city walls. He had -sent his servants before him with his chariot and his gear to secure a -stabling for his horses and a sleeping-place for himself in the -crowded alcoves of the king's palace. But his soul longed for peace -and quiet, and he felt he could not face the noisy crowd before it was -needful. Time enough if he slipped into the great hall when the -company was gathering for the feast. Only then might he hope to see -Alcestis. So he turned aside into the quiet fields and wandered by the -winding stream. Behind him the dust rose in white clouds from the -high-road as the chariots of the suitors thundered up towards the -palace, and Admetus knew that many a brave and mighty hero would stand -against him on the morrow. Yet hope burned high in his heart, and he -felt that his love for Alcestis was a power which his rivals lacked--a -power which would nerve his arm and give him the strength of ten. The -desire of his heart went up to the throne of Zeus like the breath of a -good man's prayer; and Zeus heard the cry of his soul, and into his -veins he poured of that fire which runs in the veins of the -Immortals. On earth men know not what to call it, and they name it -with many names--inspiration, genius, and the spirit of prophecy, or, -when it works too far beyond their understanding, they call it -madness. - -As the sun was sinking low in the sky, Admetus turned up the steep -roadway to the palace. In the courtyard he found his servants, and -they brought him water to wash with, and a change of raiment, and -clothed him as befitted one who had come to woo a fair princess. As -the shades of evening fell he entered the great hall, and mingled with -the company, and when the tables were spread, he took his seat among -the rest. But when his neighbour spoke to him, he would answer at -random, and ever his eye wandered restlessly up and down the hall to -find Alcestis. Now the feast drew to its close, and yet no womenfolk -appeared. At last one of the serving-men drew aside the great curtain -that hung across the doorway, and as the daughters of Pelias entered -Admetus felt his heart leap in his bosom, and he leant eagerly across -the table. The moments that passed before Alcestis came seemed -eternity, and when at length she entered, her eyes were cast upon the -floor, and she saw him not. But when she had taken her seat, the -silent voice of his soul sped across the great hall, and found an echo -in her heart, and she raised her eyes and looked at him, and for one -moment they two were alone in that crowded place. - -And now the wine was mixed, and each man held out his cup for the -pouring of the third libation. Then Alcestis rose from her seat, and -her sisters played a prelude on their pipes. When the prelude was -ended she raised her voice and sang. - -"O all-bestowing Zeus, Father Almighty, for the mercies thou hast -showered upon us, for the evil thou hast warded off, lo, with thankful -hearts we make libation of the sweet dark wine! O friend of the -stranger, who searchest out the secrets of men's hearts, midst the -whirlwind rush of the chariots and the dust of the wrestling-ring, -stand thou beside the brave man and the true! Make firm his axle-pin, -and the earth beneath him sure, and chain blind Fortune's hands. So -shall the prize fall to the most valiant. To those whose lives must be -moulded by another's will, grant thou patience and an understanding -soul, O Lord, and may the desire of their heart be according to thy -will. O father of gods and men, cloud-enthroned, who ridest on the -wings of the whirlwind, joy and sorrow by thee are blended into one -harmonious whole. By the sunshine of thy mercy, by the scorching fire -of thy wrath, open thou the blinded eyes of men to see the glory of -thy works. All hail to thee, saviour and king most high!" - -As she sang the people marvelled, for her voice was as the voice of -some priestess of the gods filled with the breath of heaven. - -When the feast was ended, the pages took down the torches from the -walls, and led forth the guests to the shadowy alcoves where each -man's couch was laid, and there was silence in the halls. On noiseless -wings Sleep glided through the palace, and stood by each man's side. -With gentle hands she soothed his weary limbs, and put fresh courage -in his heart for the contest of the morrow. But when she came to -Alcestis she found her gazing out upon the starlit sky. - -"My daughter," she said, "come to my arms and lay thy head upon my -breast, and I will ease the trouble of thine heart." - -"Ah, sweet Sleep, not to-night," Alcestis answered, "for with Zeus a -mortal's fervent prayer availeth much. I cannot stand beside Admetus -in the lists, but at least he shall not fail for want of a true -heart's prayer to-night." - -So Sleep passed her by, and till the bright-haired dawn shone out in -the east Alcestis sat by the open window. When it was light she went -to rouse her sisters, for early in the morning they were to lead the -procession of the maidens to the temples of the gods and lay wreaths -and garlands before the shrines, while the men-folk gathered in the -plain to watch the contest of the suitors. - -Now once more there was bustle and confusion in the city, and the -streets were thronged with eager folk hurrying to the lists. Ever and -anon there was a shout, and the crowd parted this way and that, like -the earth before a ploughshare, as a chariot thundered over the stones -bearing some proud suitor to the games. Last of all, when everything -was ready, came the king, Acastus, and took his seat beneath a canopy, -and the people rose as one man, and greeted him with cheers. Then came -a herald, and blew a call upon his trumpet, and one by one the suitors -marched up and stood before the king, and with a loud voice the herald -proclaimed each man's name and station and the contest he would enter -for that day. Truly it was a goodly sight to see them marching past, -strong men all, in the prime of life. Broad were their shoulders, and -their limbs were straight and brown, and the rhythm of their marching -was like the swell of the sea. Never since the day when all the heroes -gathered at the call of Jason for the search of the Golden Fleece had -there been such a goodly concourse of men in fair Iolchos. From all -the wide plain of Thessaly they flocked, from hill-girt Attica and the -Spartan lowlands, from Argolis and the green valleys of Arcadia, and -from the isles of the sea. - -All the day long the people sat and watched the games, and ever and -anon a shout went up to heaven when a strong man overthrew his -adversary, or one swift of foot passed the others in the last lap of -the race. There was hurling of quoits, and leaping and wrestling, and -beneath the feet of the boxers the earth was trampled hard. Far away -across the plain the chariots flew, and the people shaded their eyes -with their hands, and strained to see which was foremost. But the dust -rose in clouds about the horses' breasts, so that till they were close -at hand no man could say who was leading. - -At last the great day drew to a close, and once more the herald stood -before the king and blew a call upon his trumpet. Each in turn the -victorious suitors came forward, and when the herald had proclaimed -his name and the contest he had won, the king placed a crown of leaves -upon his head, and told him which of the daughters of Pelias was to be -his bride. Brave men were they all, and bravely had they fought that -day, but mightiest among the mighty had been Admetus of Pheræ. Last of -all the victors, the herald called his name, and he came and stood -before the throne; and the king placed the crown of leaves upon his -head and said, - -"In token that thou hast proved thyself the mightiest in the field, I -place this garland on thine head, Admetus. Verily, the gods have stood -upon thy side and filled thee with the fire of heaven, so that the -strength of thine adversary was turned to weakness before thy might. -May they grant thee, in like way, to fulfil the last part of the task; -for, of a truth, it would grieve me to see one so mighty depart -without a prize." - -Then Admetus answered boldly, - -"But one more sun shall set, O king, before Alcestis shall be my -bride. To-morrow at noon will I come to bear her away in a chariot -drawn by a lion and a boar." - -And those who heard him marvelled at his confidence. - - -V - -The next day towards noon the king came forth and sat upon a throne in -the portico before the palace, and all the nobles and suitors stood -round about and waited to see if Admetus would fulfil his word. As the -sun stood high in the heavens there fell upon his ears a sound like -the moaning of the sea far away when a storm is at hand. Louder and -louder it grew, drawing nearer every moment, till at length, like the -break of a mighty wave, a host of cheering citizens surged through the -great bronze gates. Into the wide courtyard they poured, and then -stood back upon either side, and, up the alley in the midst, drove -Admetus in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. Straight across the -court he came, and, like well-trained steeds, the beasts looked -neither to right nor left, nor heeded the cheers of the people. With a -jingling of bells and the rattle of harness-chains, they trotted -between the ranks, and came and stood before the king. - -"I have kept my word, O king, and have come to bear away my bride, as -the prophet of the gods ordained." - -Then the king rose up and greeted Admetus. - -"Right glad am I to see thee, Admetus," he cried, "and right glad that -my sister shall be thy bride. May the gods bless thy wedded life, even -as they have blessed thy suit this day!" - -Thereupon the pages threw open the palace doors, and a chorus of -maidens came forth playing upon pipes, and singing a marriage hymn. -Last of all came Alcestis, clad in the saffron robes of a bride, and -to Admetus she seemed like the sun heralded by the stars of dawn. -Gently he took her hand and raised her into the car, and the people -piled rich tapestries and vessels of gold and silver beside them for -gifts of marriage. With a shouting and waving of hands the chariot -passed once more across the court and down through the echoing -streets, till at length they two were alone upon the white highway. -The joy that was born of their hearts threw a magic light on all the -land. The green grass waved in the meadows, the leaves danced gaily on -the trees, and from the thickets and bushes the birds sang songs of -gladness. On and on they drove, as in a dream, heeding neither time -nor distance. The glare of the dusty highway changed to the shade of -the woodland path, with green arches overhead, and a murmur of dancing -streams. Before the shrine of Hecate a shepherd had placed his -offering, and was standing with his hands held high in prayer. But -Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine, nor remembered when last -he had stood there and taken his strange team from his herdsman. -Without a thought he passed the altar by. As the gleaming chariot grew -dim in the distance, the shepherd turned and watched it, till the -curve of the road hid it from sight. Even then he stood and listened -to the jingling of the bells, as though he thought that still it might -turn back. But the bells grew fainter and fainter, till he heard but a -tinkle now and again borne back on the wings of the wind, and at last -he could hear that no more. Sadly he turned back, and stood again -before the shrine with outstretched hands, then silently disappeared -into the depths of the wood. - -On went the two till the shades of night began to fall, and one by one -the stars came out in the sky. Now they drew near to Pheræ. High up -upon the hill the palace gleamed bright with many a torch, for -messengers had gone before to say that Admetus was coming with his -bride, and all the folk had gathered together to greet him on his -return. As they entered the city gates choruses of men and maidens -came forth to meet them, and up the steep hill the glad procession -wound, with the singing of hymns and playing of pipes. When they -reached the palace gates the maidens raised Alcestis in their arms, -and bore her over the brazen threshold, that no evil omen might befall -her as she entered her new home. Long and merry was the -marriage-feast, and ere it was over the night was far spent. But at -length the last libation had been poured, the last cup had passed -round the board, and the maidens stood waiting to take Alcestis to the -marriage chamber. So she rose and went with them, and they decked her -in the robes in which for the first time a young bride greets her -lord. When all was ready, they took down the torches from the walls, -and left her. Outside the door they formed in chorus to sing the -love-song till Admetus should come to his bride. - -[Illustration: Admetus heeded neither shepherd nor shrine.... Without -a thought he passed the altar by.] - -Not long did they wait. With eager steps he came and drew aside the -curtain from the doorway. In the middle of the chamber stood Alcestis, -and never had she looked more fair. As the sweet notes of the -love-song stole softly through the door, she held out her arms to -Admetus. Her hair fell in a cloud about her shoulders, and her white -robe touched the floor. From the casement the pale moonbeams fell -slanting down, and cast about her a halo of light. With the silver -shimmer of her hair and the gleam of her outstretched arms, she seemed -to Admetus a messenger of the gods come down by the ladder of light. -With a cry of joy he stepped towards her. As he did so a terrible -thing befell. Between him and his bride there rose up two huge -serpents, and as he rushed towards them they circled Alcestis about in -their gleaming coils. The nearer he drew the more closely did they -clasp her, and their forked tongues flashed like lightning about her -head. - -"Back, back!" she gasped, "or they will strangle me." - -Unconsciously he fell back. As he did so the great beasts relaxed -their grip, and fell down in shining coils upon the floor; but their -heads waved to and fro above the ground, and when once more he took a -step forward, they rose up again about her with an angry hiss. - -"Oh, leave me, leave me!" cried Alcestis. "The gods are angry, and -will not let thee touch me. Fight not against their will, or the -serpents will slay me." - -"Nay, with these hands will I strangle them," cried Admetus. - -Again he rushed forward, and again, before he could cross the room, -the monsters had wound themselves about Alcestis with a clasp of iron, -so that she could scarcely breathe. Just in time Admetus drew back, or -they would have squeezed the life from her. With a groan he turned and -fled from the room, and the love-song changed to a shriek of terror as -the maidens scattered this way and that before him. With head bowed -down and wide eyes full of horror, he staggered on like a drunken man, -and disappeared into the darkness of the silent hall. In terror the -maidens clung together, with whisperings like the twitter of -frightened birds. At length one more bold than her companions drew -aside the curtain from the door and looked into the chamber. Full in -the path of the moonbeams Alcestis lay stretched upon the floor. Her -eyes were closed, and her face was pale as with the paleness of death. -Yet there seemed nothing in the room that should have caused her to -swoon away. The maiden called to her companions, and together they -lifted Alcestis upon the couch, and ministered to her, till at length -she opened her eyes. - -Admetus meanwhile had rushed through the deserted hall and out into -the moonlit court. All was quiet, save for one solitary figure, who -walked up and down in the shadow of the colonnade. As Admetus -staggered across the court, the man came out and stood across his -path. - -"Whither goest thou, O king?" he asked. - -Raising his eyes, Admetus found himself face to face with his strange -herdsman. - -"My head burns from feasting in the crowded hall," he said, "and I am -come out to get the cool night air." - -The herdsman answered him never a word, but gazed at him with his -strange piercing eyes. And Admetus glanced this way and that, but -could not meet that steadfast look. - -"Why do the gods torment me?" he cried hotly. "What have I done that I -should be tortured on my bridal night?" - -"Nay, think rather what thou hast left undone." - -"Left undone?" cried Admetus, and pointed to the altar in the centre -of the court. "Seest thou not the fire still red from the burning of -the sacrifice? Not here only, but throughout the whole city, do they -steam with the savoury smoke." - -"Altars may steam while hearts are cold, Admetus. One fervent prayer -before the solitary shrine availeth more than hecatombs of oxen slain -without a thought. Did I not stand before thee in the path this day -and lift my hands in prayer to Hecate? But with unseeing eyes didst -thou pass me by, and the goddess is wroth at thy neglect, and her -anger standeth between thee and thy bride." - -And Admetus stood with eyes downcast before him, and had never a word -to say. - -"Yet because I love thee I will help thee once again," the herdsman -said. "Go back upon thy road and offer now thy prayers. I too will -intercede for thee, and methinks that the voice of my pleadings she -will not disdain." - -Slowly and sorrowfully did Admetus return along the road he had -travelled with so light a heart before. For three days and three -nights he was not seen within the palace, and for three days and three -nights Alcestis lay tossing to and fro upon her bed, with wild words -upon her lips, and before her eyes fearful shapes that she alone could -see. On the fourth day Admetus came slowly up the hill. The dust of -the highway clung white about his clothes, and the sweat of weariness -stood out upon his brow. Yet straightway he came and stood beside -Alcestis, and took her hand in his. Then she opened her eyes and -looked at him, and for the first time since her marriage night she -looked on a face with eyes that could see. The fearful shapes and -visions fled away, and she smiled at him with tears of joy. Then -Admetus knew that his prayers had not been vain, and that Hecate had -heard his cry, and given him back his wife. - - -VI - -Quickly the days and nights sped by, and the palace was full of joy -and happiness. At last the season came round that had brought the -strange herdsman to Admetus the year before. On the selfsame day of -the month he came and stood once more before him. - -"Twelve moons have waxed and waned, O king," he said, "since the day -when first thou gavest me shelter in thy halls. The time of my -cleansing is accomplished, and I am come to bid thee farewell." - -"Farewell?" cried Admetus. "That is a bitter word in mine ears. Fain -would I have thee with me always. Yet have I no heart to beg thee to -remain, for thou art mightier than I, and even to call thee guest and -friend would sound presumptuous in mine ears. Farewell, then. May the -gods reward thee tenfold for the blessings thou hast showered upon my -house!" - -"When first I stood within thy halls thou didst say to me, 'Stranger, -who art thou, and whose blood is on thy hands?' Dost thou not ask me -that question now once more ere we part?" - -"Master, I asked it then in ignorance of thee and of thy ways. To-day -it lieth with thee to tell me or not as thou wiliest. If thou wouldst -hide thy name from me still, I am content." - -"Nay, I will tell thee, for 'tis meet thou shouldst know. The fame of -the deed I wrought has spread far and wide throughout the world -wherever men speak with awe the name of Delphi. Thou knowest how in -the beginning Earth held the sacred shrine, and gave forth, from the -mouth of her priestess, dark and dreadful oracles, and Chaos and Night -had their seats there, and the wingless foul Furies, the trackers of -blood. Round about the awful spot the mountains re-echoed the voice of -lamentation and the cries of human victims led forth to sacrifice; and -lest at any time one strong of arm and stout of heart should come to -wrest away the shrine from the powers of darkness, there lay before -the gates a guardian fierce and terrible--Python, the sleepless -dragon. In and out and round about the portals he wound his monstrous -length, and his scales threw back the light like points of flashing -steel, and his eyes were like the red-tongued flame. No man in those -days could pass that dreadful portal, but, like a dim, uncertain echo, -the voice of the priestess floated down to the trembling folk below. -At last one day there came a shining one whose sword was the sunlight, -and his arrows were darts of living fire. With the strength of his -right arm he slew the Python, and stretched out his monstrous coils -beneath the hot sun's rays, till the flesh melted and rotted away, and -only his bones lay gleaming white upon the rocks, to show how once he -had guarded the shrine against all comers; and the victor took the -shrine and made it his own, and placed his priestess there to utter -forth true oracles to men when the divine spirit filled her breast. -The waters of the Castalian spring he purified, so that those who came -might wash away their guilt, and stand with pure hearts before the -shrine. And over the green lawns beneath Parnassus he led the choir of -the Muses, the bright-haired sisters of poetry, and music, and -dancing. Because their feet have touched the earth where Castalia has -its fount, men say that those who drink of those waters are filled -with their spirit, so that the words that they speak and the songs -that they sing are immortal, and will live for ever upon the lips and -in the hearts of men. He who did this thing and turned the darkness -into light stands here before thee now." - -"Apollo!" cried Admetus, "lord and master!" And he fell upon the -ground before him, and clasped him by the knees. "Ah, forgive the -blindness and presumption of my heart!" he begged. - -"Nay, there is nought to forgive. They that shed blood must pay the -price--yea, though it be the blood of a monster rightfully poured out -upon the ground. Light was the cost of my purification, for thou art a -kind master and an honourable man. But now my hands are clean, I go -back to my seat on fair Olympus, where high above the clouds the -deathless gods dwell evermore in the clear, bright light of heaven. -Yet do I love thee, and will not forget thee. When the shadow of -despair falls dark across thy path, call on me, and I will help thee." - -So saying, he bent forward and took Admetus by the hand, and raised -him up. Once more that piercing glance burned through to his very -soul; then the stranger turned and strode away across the palace -court. Like one changed to marble Admetus stood and watched him go. -Then with a start he rushed to the gateway, and looked eagerly down -the road. But though he shaded and strained his eyes, he could see -that familiar form no more. Only far away on the dim horizon the veil -of clouds which hung about Olympus melted away beneath the sun's -bright rays, and the snow-clad peak flashed clear and sparkling as a -crystal against the summer sky. - -"Lo, even dread Olympus smiles a welcome to the god of Light and -Truth!" said Admetus. - -Then with a sigh he turned back into the palace. - - -VII - -For ten long years Admetus and Alcestis ruled in Pheræ, and the gods -gave them joy and happiness and two children to bless their wedded -love. And when Admetus looked back to the days of the past, he was -well pleased with the story of his life. Had he not held an oar in the -good ship _Argo_, whose fame had reached to the uttermost parts of the -earth? By the strength of his arm he had won to wife the fairest maid -in Thessaly, and brought her home behind a pair such as no man before -or since had dared to yoke together. Moreover, through the length and -breadth of Hellas his house was famous as the home of hospitality and -good cheer. Not men alone, but great Apollo, the bright-haired god of -Light, had been his guest--nay, his very servant. Was he not king, -too, of a rich and fruitful land, in which year by year the earth -brought forth plenteous harvests, because the greatness of his name -held back the tide of war, and peace with unfettered feet walked -joyously through field and city? When he remembered all these things, -his heart waxed big with vanity and pride, and he began to forget the -gods and to look down upon his fellow-men, and think that he alone of -all mankind had done great deeds, and that without him the world would -be but a sorry place. This pride it was that made him do a mean thing -that marred all the glory of his life. - -One day Death came and stood beside him, and put his seal upon his -brow, and Admetus knew that he must die. When he felt that now he -stood upon the threshold of Hades, the dim dark world of the dead, -where high and low, rich and poor, strong and weak, wander for ever as -voiceless shades through the sunless groves, where kingship and -slavery are one, his heart was turned to water, and his spirit called -aloud in his anguish, - -"Apollo, O Apollo! Hear me in my sore distress, and deliver me from -death." - -Far away on the sunlit peak of Olympus Apollo heard his cry, and swift -as the lightning crosses the sky he came and stood beside him. - -"What wouldst thou with me, Admetus?" he asked. "I have come in answer -to thy prayer." - -Then Admetus raised his head, and pointed to his brow, and Apollo -gazed sadly at him. "I see the seal upon thy brow, my friend--the seal -that none may break." - -"Ah, say not that, my lord! Am I not even now in the prime of my -manhood, when others look forward to many a long year of joyous life? -Why should I die before my time? My mother and my aged father still -live, and rejoice in the sunlight, yet no kingdom standeth by the -might of their right arm. The meanest slave within my palace is more -fortunate than I. Why, out of them all, hath Death laid his hand on -me?" - -"He is but the servant of the Fates, Admetus, whose ways neither gods -nor men can understand." - -"The Fates? Are they lower than the beasts, then, and will not listen -to the voice of reason?" - -"The voice of man's reason is to them as the baying of jackals in the -wilderness, Admetus." - -"O god of Light, is there nothing that will touch their hearts? Canst -thou by thy music turn the souls of man and beast, and soothe the fury -of the whirlwind and the crying of the rain, and yet over them alone -hast thou no power? Ah! by the love thou once didst bear me, go, -strike thy lyre before them, and sing thy song of magic. Surely they -will not withstand thee, but will put my life into thy hands in return -for the beauty of thy song." - -"Because I love thee I will go, Admetus. Yet, if I go, it is because -they call me; and if I prevail, or if I fail, it is because they have -willed it long ago. Farewell." - -So Apollo sped away on the wings of the wind, far, far away beyond -earth's widest bounds, beyond the region of unmelting snow and the -land of the midnight sun, beyond the ever-rolling stream of ocean and -the deserts of the air, till he came to the unchanging land where the -three Great Sisters dwell together, without beginning and without end. -In that land there is neither north nor south, east nor west. There is -neither sun nor moon, night nor day, time nor change. On three great -thrones of mist the mighty Sisters sit, and their forms are neither -foul nor fair. On their brows are crowns of sovereignty, and in their -hands the destinies of man, which they sit spinning, for ever -spinning, into the mighty web of Life. The first is Lachesis the -Chooser. From the tangled mass beside her she picks out threads of -varied hue and hands them to Clotho the Spinner, who weaves them into -the web upon her knees. On the other side sits Atropos the Unswerving -One. In her hands she holds a pair of shears, and as the ends of the -threads hang loose on the wrong side of the web, she cuts them off and -casts them at her feet. - -So Apollo came and stood before them with his lyre in his hand. Softly -he touched the golden strings, then raised his voice and sang. At the -sound of that magic song Lachesis forgot to hand the threads to her -sister, the web dropped low on Clotho's knee, and the hand of Atropos -fell lifeless by her side, and till the ending of the song Time itself -stood still. While the magic of his singing held them spellbound -Apollo urged his plea. - -"Almighty Sisters, from the ends of the world have I come, from the -haunts of mortal man, to ask a boon for one I love." - -"Say on, Apollo. Thou hast turned our hearts to water by the magic of -thy song. What wilt thou?" - -"In the fertile land of Pheræ, Admetus lies a-dying. He is young, and -the love of life runs hot within his veins. He is a great king, too, -and rules his subjects well and wisely, and loud will be the wail of -the people if he must die before his time. If my song has pleased you, -mighty ones, O grant that he may live to a green old age." - -"All mortals would live to a green old age, Apollo, and thou lovest -many among the sons of men. There would be no end to our bounty if for -every song we must grant thee a life. Nay, ask some other boon, for -thy song has reached our hearts!" - -But Apollo turned sadly away. "There is nothing else I would ask of -you, great Sisters. For this, and for this alone, have I come." - -"On one condition only can we grant thee thy boon, Apollo. Thou sayest -that Admetus is a great king, and well loved by all his folk. If among -them all he can find one soul that will go to Hades in his place, we -will let him live on to a green old age. Surely we ask not much. Some -slave who loveth not his life, or some old man whose grey hairs are a -burden, will gladly die that one so wise and great may live on for his -people's joy." - -"So be it, mighty ones. Yet methinks 'tis an empty boon thou hast -given me, for men cling to life and the sunny days on earth, and -Admetus may seek far ere he find one who will cast it aside for the -darkness and gloom of the sad underworld. And, in any case, he is not -one to live on at the price of another's life." - -"We can grant no more," they said. - -So Apollo went back by the way he had gone; and he came and stood -beside Admetus, and told him the word of the Fates. When Admetus heard -it he was glad. - -"O God of Light, thou wast ever my friend, and now I shall owe my very -life to thee. How can I thank thee?" - -But Apollo looked through to his inmost soul. "Dost thou accept the -condition, then?" he asked. - -"What else can I do, master?" he replied. - -"Thou canst die." - -"I know it," cried Admetus; "but why must I die before my time? With -the Argonauts I sailed the unknown seas; in the lists I have fought -and prevailed against the flower of Hellas; and for twelve months a -god deigned to dwell beneath my palace roof. Surely my life is worth -more than most men's, and I do well to keep it while I may." - -"So be it," said Apollo, but his face was stern and terrible, and -Admetus trembled at his frown. "Go now, and find one who will die for -thee." And he turned and left him. - - -VIII - -When Admetus was left alone his heart was in a tumult. He felt the -wrath of Apollo like the lash of a whip, and he knew that his anger -was just. When he looked back on his life, he was ashamed at the -change which long years of prosperity and peace had wrought in him; -that much manliness at least was left him. When he thought of the -great deeds he had done in his youth, and how, when he had but sipped -of its joys, he had been ready a hundred times to cast life lightly -aside, he felt like a thief slinking guiltily home by night, laden -with the spoils that will make himself rich and leave his friend poor -and starving. If he took another's life as the price of his own, he -felt he would never be able again to look a man straight in the face. -And yet he could live his life but once; and life, with prosperity and -ease, sunshine and riches, had become more dear to him than honour, -more dear than the love and esteem of his fellow-men. His very deeds -of valour had become a snare to entice him to the path of meanness and -dishonour, to make him hold another's life as a cheap price to pay for -one so great as he. So he quenched the last spark of manliness that -still struggled for life in his heart, and sent a proclamation through -the land, bidding all those who would die that their king might live, -to come and stand before him in the palace, that he might choose -between them; for he thought that many would be glad to die for him. -For many a long day he waited, and no man came. Then he sent forth -trusty messengers to stir the people's hearts; but they returned with -words instead of men. - -"We will ride in the chase, we will sail the stormy seas, we will -fight against our country's foes, and in all these things will we risk -our lives to save the king. But we will not leave our wives and little -ones and the pleasant life on earth, for no cause save that another -may live beyond his fated time." - -Such were the words of the people. - -Then Admetus sent for all his household--the slaves that had been born -and bred within the palace. And they said that they would toil for -him all their days, but die for him they would not; for even the life -of a slave was better than the endless years of gloom in the kingdom -of the dead. - -Then the heart of Admetus grew bitter within him, and he hated the -thought of death more than ever before, when he found that even the -meanest life was dear to the hearts of men. In his despair he turned -to his aged parents, for he thought within himself, - -"Surely one of them will be ready to die for their own son. At best -they have not many years of life, and if I die before them they will -have no son to bury them and perform the funeral rites and prayers, as -only a son can do for his parents." - -So he went to Pheres his father, and begged that he would die in his -place. But his father answered, - -"Dost thou think that because thou lovest the sunlight thy father -loves it not?" - -"Nay, but in any case Death must lay his hand upon thee soon, whilst I -am in the prime of life." - -"Because the years that are left me are few, they are none the less -sweet. Nevermore in the land of Hades shall I warm my old bones in the -sun as I look forth upon the fruitful earth. So the years that are -left are doubly dear." - -"Then, when thou comest to die, men will point the finger of scorn at -thy grave. 'Behold the coward, who, though his hair was grey and his -limbs were feeble, yet refused to die for his own son!' Thy name will -be a byword throughout all Hellas." - -"When I am dead it matters little what men shall say of me," said -Pheres. - -"May the gods forgive thee for what thou hast said!" cried Admetus, -and turned away in wrath. For it was a dreadful thing for a Greek to -say he cared not what men would think of him when he was dead. - -Then Admetus went to his mother. But she, no less than his father, -clung to life, and refused to die in his stead. - -Last of all he turned to his wife, Alcestis. From the beginning she -had been ready to die for him, for she loved him, and placed his life -above her own. But he had said there was no need that she should die -and take away half the joy of his life, when another would do as well. - -"It needs a great love to sacrifice life for the sake of another," she -had answered, "and there is no one in all the world who loves thee as -I do." - -Now he found that her words were true, and that he must either die -himself or take her life as the price of his own; and his self-love -had the mastery, though he tried to persuade his heart that he was -living beyond his appointed time for his country's sake and his -people's good. Yet at bottom he was not satisfied, and his heart grew -bitter against all those who had refused to die for him, and he -accused them of being the murderers of his wife. But he knew full well -that it was his own hand that was sending her to the grave in the -flower of her life. - -At last the day of doom arrived on which Alcestis was to die. Till -then she had put aside all thought of death, and had lived her life as -though no shadow hung over her; for she thought within herself, - -"At least I will be happy my last days on earth. I shall have long -enough to mourn for my life in the kingdom of the dead." - -But now the last day had come she could put away the thought of death -no longer. Before a gleam of light shone forth on the far horizon she -was up to greet the first rays of the sun, for she was a true daughter -of Hellas, and she loved the glad sunshine and all that was bright and -fair, while death and darkness and the gloom of the sad underworld -filled her soul with horror. For the last time she looked upon the -faint gleam in the east and watched it spread over the sky, and saw -the red disc of the sun as he rose from the way of the sea and made -the pale dawn blush. The clouds were tinged with glory, and the -heavens were filled with light, and the earth awoke with a smile of -flowers dancing in the glad morning breeze. Then she washed in the -fresh fountain water, put on her gayest robes, and went and stood -before the altar on the hearth, to pray her last prayer on earth. - -"O lady Goddess! I am going far away across the dark river of Death, -and for the last time do I make my prayer to thee. Ah, when I am gone, -have mercy on my children. Hard are the ways of the world, and they -are young to be left without a mother's love. Put forth the right hand -of thy pity, lady, and bring them to a glad old age. Let them not -perish, as I must, in the bloom of their life, but give to my son a -loving wife, and a noble husband to my daughter; and may they be happy -all their days!" - -Then she went through the palace and bade farewell to all the -servants. To each one she gave her hand, even to the meanest slave of -them all, and spoke kindly to them. And they bathed her hand with -their tears, for they loved their mistress, and knew that when she -died they would lose a good friend. As she went the children clung -weeping about her skirts, for they, too, knew that she must die. - -Last of all she went alone to her chamber, for she could endure no -more; and she threw herself upon her couch, and wept as though her -heart would break. She kissed the pillows and smoothed them tenderly -with her hands. - -"Alas, alas! for the happy days on earth," she cried, "and happiest of -all the years that I have lived here as the wife of Admetus! Farewell, -my couch--farewell for ever!" - -She tried to tear herself away, but again and again when she had -reached the door she turned back and fell once more weeping upon her -couch. At last she felt the weakness of death creeping over her, and -she knew if she did not leave her chamber then, she would leave it -nevermore alive. All her tears were spent, and she had no strength -left to weep any more. Outside in the great hall Admetus sat with his -head upon his hands, weeping for his wife, and cursing the bitterness -of his fate. And she went and stood beside him. - -"Take me out into the sunlight, Admetus," she said; "the darkness -within oppresses me. I can breathe more freely in the air." - -When he looked at her he was afraid, for she was as pale as death. -Gently he raised her in his arms, and placed her on a couch in the -portico before the palace. And when she saw the blue sky and the -sunshine she smiled. - -"O sun and light of day," she said, "and ye dancing, eddying clouds, -farewell!" - -"O ye gods, have mercy!" cried Admetus. "My dearest, look up, and -leave me not all desolate." - -But with a cry of fear she started up, and pointed in front. - -"Look, look! The boat of the dead, and the ferryman of souls with his -hand upon the pole--Charon! He calls, 'Alcestis, why dost thou tarry? -Hasten and come with me.'" - -"Ah, Fate, Fate--cruel Fate!" cried Admetus. - -"He is snatching me away--oh, save me!--down, down to the dark halls -of death. Away, let me go! He frowns with his dark gleaming brows. Ah, -the dread journey before me!" - -"Leave me not, leave me not!" cried Admetus. - -"Lay me down again," said Alcestis, and her voice was scarce more than -a whisper. "The strength is gone out of my limbs, and darkness creeps -over my eyes. My children, where are you? Come here, my little ones, -and nestle close beside me." - -And the children crept silently to her. - -Then she held out her hand to Admetus. - -"My lord," she said, "farewell. Already my feet are planted in the -paths of death, and thou canst not hold me back. I have been a loving -wife to thee, Admetus; my beauty, my youth, my joy of life--all these -I give to thee. Ah, when I am dead, forget me not, for the children's -sake, for these poor little ones--promise me. Promise me thou wilt not -wed again, for a stepmother's heart would be hard against my children, -and they would suffer. Promise me that thou wilt be a father and -mother to them in one." - -[Illustration: And the children crept silently to her.] - -"I promise," said Admetus. - -"Then into thy hands I give them. Poor little ones, what will you do -without me? My son, for thee thy father will ever be a strong tower of -defence, and will bring thee up to be a true man. But for thee, little -maiden, my heart bleeds. Thou wilt have no mother to dress thee on thy -wedding-day, or to comfort thee in thy sorrows, when there is no love -like a mother's. Be doubly tender with her, Admetus." - -"I will, I will. All that thou sayest I will do, and more also. Not -for one year only, but all my life long, will I mourn for thee. Forget -me not, I pray thee. Prepare a place for me below, that I may be with -thee when I come to die." - -"Nay, I will not forget thee. Lay me back now. I can say no more." - -Gently he laid her back, and knelt down by her side, and all they that -stood around bowed their heads in silence, for they knew that Death -was standing in their midst. - -At last Admetus looked up. - -"My friends," he said, "she is gone. Help me now to carry her in, that -the maidens may clothe her in the robes of death." - -Gently and reverently, with heads bowed in grief, they carried her in. -The maidens clad her in long white robes, and laid her on the bier, -and the mourners stood round and sang a dirge for the dead. On the -threshold before the palace Admetus placed the locks he had shorn from -his head in token that within one lay dead, and he put on long black -robes of mourning, and took off the golden circlet from his brow. -Throughout the city he sent a proclamation to say the queen was dead. - -"Men of Thessaly," it said, "all ye who own my sway, come, share with -me in sorrow for my wife who is dead. Shave the bright locks from your -heads, and don your sable robes. Harness your four-horsed chariots; -put the bit in the mouths of your steeds. Cut off the long manes from -their necks, and follow with me to her grave. Let not the voice of the -flute be heard in your streets, nor the sound of the lyre, till full -twelve moons have waxed and waned; for she was the noblest of women, -and dearest of all on earth to me. Her life she sacrificed for mine. -Pay her high honours, then, for she is most worthy." - - -IX - -Whilst the preparations for the funeral were being made, anyone who -chanced to look along the highroad would have seen a stranger making -his way towards the palace. He was a strong man and tall--three cubits -and more in height. The muscles of his arms and chest stood out like -thongs of cord. In his hand he carried a huge knotted club, and over -his shoulders hung a lion's skin. If the wind or the sun were too -strong, he would draw the jaws of the beast over his head like a hood, -and the great teeth shone out white and terrible over his brows and -under his chin. He walked along with great swinging strides, balancing -the club upon his shoulder as though it were some light twig, and not -heavy as a sapling oak. As he went through the villages the people -stood aside from his path in wonder, and even the strongest champion -of them all would whisper, "May the gods deliver me from ever having -to stand up against him in single combat. In his little finger is the -strength of my right arm." - -But he walked on, little heeding what folk thought of him, singing now -and again snatches of some drinking-song, and passing the time of day, -or cracking some joke with those he met upon the way; for, in truth, -he had a merry heart, and wished well to all mankind. Those who were -frightened when first they saw his club and lion's skin forgot their -fears as soon as they could see his face, for his eyes were blue and -laughing as the summer sky, and his smile was bright as the sun in -spring. And yet there were lines and scars about his features which -proved that he was no idler, but one who had looked labour and danger -in the face. - -So he came to Pheræ and went up the steep path to the palace. It -chanced that Admetus was standing in the portico on his way in. When -the stranger saw him he shouted out, - -"Hail to thee, Admetus! Turn back and greet an old friend." - -When Admetus heard him, he turned and came towards him. - -"Welcome, Heracles," he said, and held out his hand to greet him. - -But when Heracles saw his black robes and shorn locks he was troubled. - -"I have come at an evil hour, Admetus," he said; "thou art mourning -for one who is dear to thee." - -"Ay," he answered; "it is true." - -"One of thy children, can it be, or thy father?" - -"Nay, there is nought amiss with them. It is a woman I am carrying out -to burial this day." - -"Is she a stranger, or one of the family?" - -"She is not one of the family. Yet she is very dear to us, for on her -father's death she came and lived with us. She was a fair and noble -woman, and all the house is plunged in grief at her death." - -"Then I will leave thee and go elsewhere. A house of mourning is no -place for guests." - -"Nay," cried Admetus; "I beg of thee, do not go. Never yet have my -halls turned away a traveller from the gates. The dead are dead. What -more could we do for them? 'Twould do them small good to lack in -friendship for the living. Come in, come in, I pray thee." - -In spite of all his entreaties, he forced him to come in, and bade his -steward take him to a guest-room apart, where he might eat and drink, -and hear nothing of the sounds of mourning when the body was carried -out to the tomb; and he did all in his power to hide from his guest -that it was Alcestis who was dead; for he was ashamed for Heracles to -know that he had allowed his wife to die for him. - -Meanwhile all had been prepared for the funeral, and a train of -citizens stood waiting in the court to follow behind the bier. Their -long black robes fell trailing in the dust; their heads were shorn in -grief, and with slow steps they followed behind the bier, whilst the -mourners sang a dirge for the dead. - -"O daughter of Pelias, farewell, farewell for evermore! Mayest thou -have peace in the world below and such joy as may be in those sunless -places! O thou black-haired god of Death, never has one more noble -come down to dwell in thy halls; never, O Charon, thou grim ferryman -of souls--never hast thou carried a burden more precious across the -dark and dreadful stream! Oft shall thy praises be sung, lady, by -minstrels of music in every land. On the seven-stringed mountain-lute -shall they sing thee, and in hymns, without lyre or lute, in Sparta, -when the circling seasons bring round the summer feast-time, and all -night long the moon rides high in heaven. In bright and shining Athens -shall they praise thee, too; for thou alone, O brightest and best, -hast dared to die for thy lord, and give up thy young life for him. O -dark Necessity, who shroudest all men about with death, how heavy is -thy hand upon this house! From thee none can flee, and Zeus himself -bows down before thee. Thou alone, O goddess, hast no temple, no -images to which men turn in prayer, neither hearest thou the voice of -victims slain. Alcestis is gone--gone for ever. Our eyes shall see her -no more. Light may the earth lie above thee, lady. Dear wast thou when -thou wast among us; dear shalt thou be, too, in death. No mere mound -of the dead shall thy tomb be, but honoured of every passer-by, as -some shrine of the Immortals. The stranger toiling up the winding way -shall bow his head before it and say, 'Here lieth one who died for her -lord; now she is a blessed spirit. O lady, have mercy upon me!' So -great shall be thy glory among men for ever. Fare thee well, fare thee -well, most beautiful." - -So they laid her in the polished tomb, and placed rich gifts about -her, and sacrifices of blood to the grim god of Death. When all the -rites were accomplished, they went away sorrowful. - - -X - -Meanwhile Heracles had been led to a guest-chamber apart, and the -servants ministered to all his wants, and brought him water to wash -with, and change of raiment. As they waited on him, he talked gaily to -them of his adventures on the way, and made them laugh in spite of -their grief for their mistress. Only the old serving-man stood aloof, -and looked darkly at the stranger who dared to make merry in a house -of mourning. - -When he had washed and dressed, he sat down to meat. They placed an -ample meal before him, and brought him wine to drink. But in his eyes -their bounty was dearth, and he kept calling for more till they could -scarce contain their astonishment at his appetite. At length, when he -had eaten his fill, he crowned his head with vine-leaves, and fell to -drinking long and deep. The wine warmed his heart, and sent a cheerful -glow through all his veins. So happy was he that he could not sit in -silence, but raised his voice and sang, and his singing was like the -roaring of a bull. - -"Great Zeus, preserve us!" sighed the old waiting-man; "never have I -heard anything more discordant and unseemly." - -But the guest grew merrier and merrier, and the face of the -serving-man, as he watched, grew longer and longer. At length Heracles -himself noticed his disapproving countenance. - -"Ho, there!" cried he; "why so dark and gloomy, my friend? I had as -soon be welcomed by an iceberg as by thee, old sour-face." - -The serving-man answered him never a word, but only scowled the more. - -"What!" cried Heracles, "is this the sort of welcome thou art wont to -give thy master's guests? Come hither, and I will teach thee better -ways." - -And he took hold of the old man and set him down beside him at the -table. - -"Alack! What a countenance! And all for a strange girl who has chanced -to die. How wilt thou look when one of thy masters is laid in the -grave? I like not this mask of hypocrisy, my friend. Thou carest not -for her who is dead, but pullest a long face, and strikest a chill to -the hearts of all beholders, because, forsooth, it is seemly to mourn -for the dead. Why, we must all pay our tribute to death, every man of -us, and no one knoweth whether he shall ever see the next day's light; -then count the present as thine own, and eat and drink with me and -make merry. A frowning face profits not the dead--nay, it serves but -to blacken the sunshine of this life that we can live but once. Up, -man, drink and wash away thy frowns! Believe me, life is no life at -all--only labour and misfortune to those who walk through it with -pompous steps and sour faces." - -And he poured out a brimming goblet. - -"All this I know full well, master," answered the old man, "but the -shadow that has fallen on this house is too heavy for me to join in -thy revelry." - -"Thou makest too much of death. Thou canst not grieve for a stranger -as thou wouldst for one of the household. Thy master and mistress -live. Let that suffice thee." - -"What! My master and mistress live? Alas! my master is too kind a -host." - -"Must I starve, then, because a strange girl is dead?" - -"It is no stranger, I tell thee, but one most near and dear." - -"Have I been deceived? Has he hidden some misfortune from me?" - -"Ask no more, but go in peace. My master's sorrows are for me to bear, -not for thee. And he bade me not speak of it." - -"Speak, speak, man! I see he has hidden some great sorrow from me. Who -is the woman who is dead?" - -"Ask me not. My master told me not to say." - -"And I forbid thee not to say. Tell me forthwith!" - -So fierce and terrible did he look that the old man trembled before -him. - -"May my lord forgive me!" said he. "It is Alcestis, his wife." - -"Alcestis!" cried Heracles. "And he would not share his sorrow with -me, his friend, but let me come in and feast and sing while he went -out to bury her. Woe is me! I thought he loved me." - -"It was to spare thee pain that he did not tell thee, master." - -"How came she to die?" asked Heracles, and took off the vine-leaves -from his head, and poured out the wine upon the floor. - -Then the old man told him the whole tale. - -"Where have they buried her?" he asked, when it was ended. - -"Out yonder, where the white highway leads to Larissa, in the plain. -There, on the outskirts of the city, thou wilt find the tomb of the -kings of Pheræ, where they are laying her." - -"Is there no shorter way I can go and reach her quickly?" - -"There is a footpath by the fields that I will show thee." - -"Come, then, straightway. I must go and lie in wait for the black Lord -of Death. He will come up to drink of the blood that is poured out for -him beside the tomb. Then I will fall upon him from my ambush and -wrestle with him and prevail, and he shall give me back Alcestis. Even -if I must go down to Hades and fetch her, she shall come back. She is -too fair and too noble to pass her young life in the dark underworld." - -The old man marvelled at his words; but he went out with him, and -showed him the footpath across the fields, and stood watching him till -he passed out of sight. - -"Verily, we talk and weep," he muttered to himself, "and he laughs and -acts. He is worth ten of us." - - -XI - -Meanwhile the funeral procession was coming back along the highway. As -they came into the city each man departed to his own house; only -Admetus with his near friends and kinsmen returned to the palace to -celebrate the funeral feast. Whilst they were waiting for the feast -to be prepared, Admetus stayed outside alone in the court. He sat down -on one of the stone seats beneath the colonnade, and buried his face -in his hands. He could not bring himself to go into the house, where -everything would remind him of the wife he had lost--the chair in -which she used to sit, empty now; the fire on the altar burning low, -and the ashes scattered about, because she was there no more to feed -the dying flames. The full force of the sacrifice came home to him -now, and he shuddered as he thought of the deed he had done. - -"I have slain her--I have slain her whom I loved, to save myself from -death, because I loved my life, and hated to go to the dark world -below. Woe is me!" he cried. "The sun is turned to darkness and the -earth to Hades since she went away. I grasped at the substance, and -all the while I followed after a shade. Fool that I was to upbraid -them who refused to die for me and cast her death in their teeth! She -is dead, dead--slain by my hand alone. Nevermore can I look my people -in the face, nor glory in the deeds I have done. The shame of my -cowardice will blot them all out, and I shall slink like a cur among -my fellows. Would that I had died with her!" - -Thus he sat making fruitless moan. His friends came out and tried to -comfort him and bring him into the house, but he sent them away, and -would not go in. All the evening he sat there alone till darkness -began to fall. At length he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder, -and, looking up, he saw Heracles standing beside him. - -"Why couldst thou not trust me, Admetus?" he asked. "All thy -household, all the city, knew that thy wife Alcestis was dead. Me -only, thy familiar friend, didst thou keep in ignorance. I had thought -to stand beside thee in thy sorrow, and thou didst not even tell me of -it." - -"I was ashamed," answered Admetus. - -"Well, well, what is done cannot be undone. There is but one way now -that thou canst prove thou art still my friend. After I had eaten, I -walked out across the fields, and came upon a place where the people -were holding games and giving rich prizes to the winners--horses and -oxen, and a fair woman to the best man of all. When I saw the woman I -determined to win her. So I entered for the contest and beat all my -rivals. The woman I have brought back with me now, and beg of thee to -keep her till I come back from the wild Thracian folk, for I cannot -take her with me there. If by any chance I should never come back, but -meet my fate away, I give her to thee to keep for thyself. I have -brought her with me now to give into thy care." - -As he spoke, he led forward by the hand a woman who had been standing -near him. She was closely veiled, so that Admetus, when he glanced up -at her, could not see her face, but only the outline of her form. - -"Oh, take her away, take her away!" he cried. "In height and figure -she is like my wife, and I cannot bear to look upon her. I would do -much for thee, my friend, but ask not this of me. No woman shall ever -live in my house again. Take her to some other of thy friends." - -In spite of all Heracles could say, he refused to take her. - -"I see that thou wouldst no more be my friend, Admetus," he said at -last. "First thou wilt not tell me of thy sorrow, and now thou wilt -not do this little thing for me. I will go and trouble thee no more -with my friendship." - -At this Admetus was cut to the quick. - -"Ah, say not that. Thou knowest that I love thee, but this is a hard -thing thou askest. Whenever I look at her I shall be reminded of my -wife. And the tongue of slander will not be silent. Men will say that -I take comfort, and have forgotten the woman who gave her life for -mine. Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, I yield. Take the woman -in, or let one of the servants show her the way." - -"Nay," said Heracles; "to thee alone will I trust her. She is fair and -noble, and I would not have her treated as a common woman." - -And he forced Admetus to take her by the hand. - -"Now I know that thou wilt treat her honourably, thou mayst look upon -her face," he said, and lifted up the veil which shrouded her. - -When Admetus saw her face, he fell back terrified, for, pale and -beautiful, scarce looking as though she breathed, Alcestis stood -before him. - -"Ye gods!" he gasped; "the spirit of my wife!" - -"Nay," said Heracles, "but her very self." - -"Thou mockest; it cannot be." - -"It is no mockery, as who should know better than I who won her?" said -Heracles. "By Zeus, I have wrestled many a tough match, but never a -one so tough as this, the gods be praised! I have met Death face to -face, and I hope I may never have to stand up against him more." - -[Illustration: She answered him never a word, but held out both her -hands and raised him from his knees.] - -"Ah, my friend, how can I thank thee? I have not deserved so much -joy," cried Admetus, and fell on his knees before them. - -"I thought not of thy deserts, but of hers," said Heracles. "Come, -take her in." - -"I dare not touch her. Ah, lady, canst thou love one who sent thee to -thy death?" he asked, with head bowed down before her. - -She answered him never a word, but held out both her hands and raised -him from his knees; and he looked deep into her eyes, and found them -full of love. Tenderly and humbly he put his arm about her and led her -away, and felt that, if anything on earth could ever raise him from -the depths of selfishness and meanness to which he had fallen, it -would be the boundless, measureless love of the woman before him. - -"Now to change the funeral feast to a banquet of rejoicing," cried -Heracles. "Truly, I could eat an ox after this last bout of mine." - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Hunting of the Calydonian Boar - - -In the city of Calydon long ago there were great rejoicings because -the queen Althæa had given birth to a son, her first-born, who, if he -grew to years of manhood, would in time sit upon the throne of his -father OEneus, and rule the land. Some seven days after the child -was born it chanced that the queen was lying alone in her chamber, -with the babe upon her breast. It was winter-time, and the shades of -evening had fallen early about the room, but a bright fire blazed upon -the hearth, and the flickering flames threw dancing shadows on the -walls. The queen was very happy as she pressed her baby to her breast, -and held its soft little hand in hers, and whispered in its ear words -which only a mother knows how to use to her child. - -As she lay she watched the shadows playing up and down upon the walls, -and to her eyes they took strange forms of men and beasts. Now it was -a great fight she saw, with horses and chariots rushing over a plain, -and mighty warriors meeting face to face in battle; now it was a -hunt, with winding of horns and dogs straining at the leash, and a -white-tusked boar breaking through a thicket. But whether it was a -hunt or whether it was a battle, everywhere there was one figure of a -man she watched--a man tall and fair and brave, who stood out -conspicuous among his fellows--such a hero as her son might grow to be -if he lived till years of manhood. And she prayed that her vision -might come true, and her son grow up to be a hero--a man mighty in -sport and mighty in battle. In time the flames died down, and the fire -burned clear and still upon the hearth. The queen's eyes grew heavy, -and she was about to turn on her side to sleep when a strange thing -happened, which took from her all desire for rest. The wall of the -room in front of her, which had glowed bright and cheery in the -firelight, grew grey and misty and seemed to vanish before her eyes, -and through the opening there came towards her the forms of three -strange women, taller and more terrible than any women of earth. The -first one carried in her hand a skein of thread, the second a spindle, -and the third a pair of great sharp shears. The queen lay still and -motionless with terror as they came forward slowly arm in arm and -stood beside the couch, looking down upon the child at her breast. At -length the first one spoke. - -"I give to thy child, Althæa, a thread of life exceeding bright and -fair." - -"And I," said the second, "will weave that thread into dark places, -where it will shine the brighter for the darkness round about, and -bring him honour and great renown." - -The third one said never a word, but walked slowly round the couch -till she stood before the fire on the hearth. A great brand had fallen -from the grate, and lay smouldering on the stones. Bending down, she -took it in her hand, and thrust it deep into the red-hot heart of the -fire, and stood watching it till it was well alight, and the tongues -of flame shot crackling upwards. Then she turned towards the queen. - -"As soon as that brand upon the fire is consumed," she said, "I will -cut the shining thread with my shears, and his life shall be as ashes -cast forth upon the wind." - -As she spoke, she held out the shears, and they gleamed sharp and -cruel in the firelight. - -With a cry of terror the queen sprang up from her couch, forgetful of -her weakness, and thinking only of the life of her child; and she -rushed across the room, and, drawing forth the blazing brand from the -fire, she smothered it in her gown, and crushed it beneath her bare -feet, till not a live spark remained about it. Then she hid it in a -secret place where she alone could find it, and cast herself upon her -couch and knew no more. When the attendants came in, they found the -room empty, save for the queen and her child; and she lay senseless on -the couch, with her feet and her gown all scarred and burnt. - -For many a long day she lay between life and death, but at last the -gods had mercy, and her strength came slowly back to her. But when -anyone asked her the cause of her burning, she would shudder and -mutter some strange tale of a brand which fell from the fire, and -would have burnt out the life of her child. What she meant no one ever -knew, but they thought that the gods had stricken her with a sudden -fever, and that, not knowing what she did, she had burnt herself in -the fire. But of the half-burnt brand and of the word of the Fates -they knew nothing, for Althæa had said in her heart, - -"The Fates have spoken, and their word shall surely come to pass. A -fine and fair thread of life has Lachesis given to my son, and Clotho -will weave it into dark places, where it shall shine exceeding bright. -The gifts they have given are good. The hand of Atropos alone is -against him, and she has measured his life by the life of a frail -piece of wood. But so long as the gods shall give me strength no -careless hand shall place that brand upon the flames, and no man shall -know the secret of his life, for grief or madness may turn even the -heart of a friend. On me, and on me alone, shall my son's life rest; -for well do I know that neither prayer nor sacrifice can avail to turn -the heart of Atropos, the Unswerving One." - -So she kept the brand securely hidden where she alone could find it. -Many other fair children did she bear to OEneus the king--Phereus -and Agelaus and Periphas, and Gorge and Melanippe, and the hapless -Dejaneira, who married Heracles, and unwittingly caused his death. But -best of them all she loved Meleager, her first-born; for the word that -the Fates had spoken came true. He grew to be a great warrior and a -mighty man, and was feared by his foes and loved by his friends -through the length and breadth of the land; for there were great wars -in those days between the Curetes of Pleuron and the Ætolians of -Calydon, and on either side fought men whose names were not despised -among their fellows, but among them all there was none so famed as -Meleager. In all the country-side there was no man who could hurl the -javelin with such force and skill as he, and whenever he went forth to -battle the victory lay with the men of Calydon, and he was called the -saviour and protector of his city. - -When he was in the flower of his manhood, the call of Jason came from -far Iolchos for all the heroes of Hellas to join him in his search for -the Golden Fleece. Amongst them sailed Meleager in the good ship -_Argo_, and came to the land of the dusky Colchians on the shores of -the Euxine Sea. One tale goes that he slew Æetes their king, the child -of the Sun, and saved his comrades from deadly peril. But whether this -be true or no, certain it is that he played his part like a man, and -came back to Calydon with a fair name for courage and endurance. Then -was he hoisted on the shoulders of his countrymen and carried through -the streets of the city, and feasted right royally in his father's -house. - -Soon after his return it chanced that the harvest was more plentiful -than it had ever been within the memory of man. The golden corn stood -high upon the plains, and on the sunny mountain-sides the olive-trees -were thick with berries, and the vine-branches drooped low with their -weight of purple fruit. Wherefore OEneus the king ordered a great -thanksgiving to be held throughout the land in honour of Dionysus and -Demeter and grey-eyed Pallas Athene, who had given such good gifts to -men. At every shrine and temple the altars smoked with sacrifice, and -glad bands of youths and maidens with garlands on their heads danced -hand in hand around, singing the song of the harvest. - -"All hail to thee, Demeter, great Earth-Mother! From Evenus to the -silver eddying waters of wide Achelöus thou hast covered the bosom of -the plain with golden ears of corn, and they dance beneath the west -wind like the waves on summer seas. All hail to thee, Dionysus, who -bringest joy to the heart of man! About thine altars the juice of the -vine shall flow like water, and the souls of those who were bowed down -beneath labour and toil shall be uplifted to thee in the glad -harvest-time. And Pallas Athene, grey-eyed maiden, thee too we hail, -for thy gift of the fragrant olive. The shade of thy trees lies cool -upon the panting hill-sides, and thou hast looked with kindness on our -land. Oh, come hither, all ye townsfolk and ye dwellers on the plains -and hills--come hither in your hundreds, and dance about the altars, -and sing thanksgiving to the great gods on high." - -Thus did they dance and sing, and there was gladness and rejoicing -through all the land, and not one soul among them all knew how soon -their laughter would be turned to tears. For when Artemis, the -huntress, saw that everywhere the altars smoked in honour of Demeter, -and Dionysus, and Pallas Athene, but that never a single stone was -raised to her, she was filled with jealousy and wrath. One night, when -all the land lay sleeping, she left the mountains, where she loved to -hunt, and came down to Calydon. The arrows in her quiver rattled as -she strode along in her wrath, and the flash of her eyes was as the -flash of summer lightning across the sky. With great swinging strides -she came and stood over OEneus as he slept. - -"O king," she said, "too long have I been patient and waited for my -dues; but I will suffer thine ingratitude no more. When the young corn -stands green upon the plain, and the vine-leaves are shooting, and the -trees cast once more their shade upon the bare hill-side, then shalt -thou have cause to know my power. Demeter may sow her golden grain, -and Dionysus and Pallas Athene may fill their fruits with gladdening -juice, but thou hast yet to learn that, if it be my will, though the -promise of the harvest be fair, the fruits thereof shall lie spoilt -and ungathered where they grew. Broad and dark are the forests which -cover wild Arachynthus, and deep the ravines, and many a wild beast -lurks therein that is tame at my word alone. One of these will I let -loose upon thy land. Many a fair field shall be trodden underfoot, and -many a vineyard and olive-grove laid waste--yea, and red blood shall -flow, ere my wrath be assuaged, and I take away the pest from your -midst. I have spoken, and no sacrifice shall turn me from my word." - -Thus did she speak, saying the words in his ear, and turned and left -the room by the way she had come. With a start he awoke from his sleep -and looked around him, but no one could he see. Only a sudden storm of -wind lashed the branches of the trees against each other, and a dark -cloud hid the face of the moon. - -"The sad winter-time is coming," he thought, "with its storms and its -darkened days. Yet, lest there be aught in my dream, I will remember -Artemis to-morrow, and her altars, too, shall smoke with sacrifice." - -So on the morrow a great festival was held in honour of Artemis, the -maiden huntress, and OEneus laid aside all thought of his dream. But -when the spring-time came and the early summer, he had cause to -remember it with sorrow, for out of the forests of Arachynthus there -came a great boar which laid waste all the country, right and left. In -size he was more huge than an ox of Epirus, whose oxen are the largest -in the world, and the bristles on his neck stood up like spikes. His -breath was as a flame of fire that burned up all that stood in his -way, and his cruel little eyes gleamed red with blood. Over the -cornfields he raged, and trampled the green blades beneath his hoofs, -and with his strong white tusks he tore down the vine-branches and -broke the overhanging boughs of the olive, so that the young berries -and fruit lay spoilt upon the ground. Not only did he lay waste the -fields, but the flocks and herds on the pasture-land were not safe -from his attack, and neither shepherds nor dogs could protect them -from his fury. Through all the country-side the people fled in terror -for their lives, and hid within the city walls, only now and again a -band of the bravest would go forth and lay nets and snares for him; -but so great was the strength of the beast that he broke through every -trap they could devise, and, killing any man who stood in his path, he -would return, with greater fury than before, to his attack upon the -fields and cattle. At length things came to such a pass that, unless -the monster could be checked, famine would ere long stare the people -in the face. When Meleager saw that neither prayer nor sacrifice would -turn the heart of Artemis, nor any ordinary hunting put an end to the -boar, he determined to gather around him a band of heroes who, for the -sake of glory, would come together for the hunt, and either kill the -beast or perish themselves in the attempt. So he sent a proclamation -far and wide through all the kingdoms of Hellas. - -"O men of Hellas," he said, "the fair plains of Calydon lie trodden -underfoot by a grievous monster, and her people are fallen upon evil -days. Come hither and help us, all ye who love adventure, and fear not -risk nor peril, ye seasoned warriors whose spirit is not dead within -you, and ye young men who have yet your name to win. Come hither to -us, and we will give you fair sport and good cheer withal." - -In answer to his call there flocked from far and wide to Calydon a -great host of brave men, and mighty was the muster which gathered -beneath the roof of OEneus for the hunting of the boar. Jason -himself came, the leader of the Argonauts, and Castor and Pollux, the -great twin brethren, whose stars are in the sky. There was Theseus, -too, who slew the Minotaur, and Peirithous his friend, who went down -with him to Hades, and tried to carry off Persephone from the king of -the Dead. And swift-footed Idas came, and Lynceus, his brother, whose -eyes were so sharp that they could see into the centre of the earth. -Others were there besides, whose names are too many to tell, and -Toxeus and Plexippus, the brothers of Althæa the queen, whom she loved -as she loved her own son Meleager. For as a little maid she had played -with them in the palace of Thestius, her father, and she remembered -how she would watch for them to come home from the hunt and clap her -hands with joy, when from afar she saw them returning home with their -spoil. And they would fondle her and play with her, and so long as -they were with her she was as happy as a bird; but when they went -away, her heart ached for them to come back. The memory of those days -still shone bright within her heart, and when her brothers came with -the other guests for the hunting of the boar, she welcomed them right -gladly. In the great hall a sumptuous feast was spread, and loud was -the laughter and bright were the faces, as one friend met another he -had not seen for many a long day, and sat down by his side in -good-fellowship with the groaning board before them. The feast was -well under way when one of the attendants whispered in the ear of the -king that yet another guest had come for the hunting of the boar. - -"Who is he?" asked the king. - -"My lord, I know not," the man replied. - -"Well, keep him not standing without, at all events," said OEneus, -"but show him in here, and we will make him welcome with the rest." - -In a few moments the man returned, and held back the curtain of the -great doorway for the new-comer to enter. All eyes were turned eagerly -that way to see who it might be, and a murmur of surprise ran round -the hall; for they saw upon the threshold no stalwart warrior, as they -had expected, but a maiden young and beautiful. She was clad in a -hunter's tunic, which fell to her knee, and her legs were strapped -about with leathern thongs. Crosswise about her body she wore a -girdle, from which hung a quiver full of arrows, and with her right -hand she leant on a great ashen bow like a staff. Her shining hair -fell back in waves from her forehead, and was gathered up in a coil -behind, and she held her head up proudly and gazed round on the -company unabashed. The glow of her cheek and the spring of her step -told of life in the open, and of health-giving sport over hill and -dale, so that she might have been Artemis herself come down from her -hunting on the mountains. She looked round the hall till her eyes fell -on OEneus, the host, in the place of honour, and in no wise troubled -by the silence which her coming had caused, she said, - -"Sire, for my late-coming I crave thy pardon. Doubtless some of thy -guests have come from more distant lands than I, but, as ill-luck -would have it, I chose to come by way of the sea instead of by the -isthmus, and for a whole day I ate out my heart with waiting by the -shrine of Poseidon for a favouring breeze; for the east wind blew like -fury across the Crisæan Gulf, and any barque that had ventured to try -the crossing had been blown to the isles of the Hesperides ere it had -reached thy land. So I waited perforce till the wind fell and I could -cross over in safety." - -Concealing his surprise as best he could, OEneus answered, - -"Maiden, we thank thee for thy coming, and make thee right welcome in -our halls. Yet we fain would know thy name who, a woman all alone, -hast crossed barren tracts of land and stormy seas unflinching, and -come to take part in a hunt which is no mere child's sport, but a -perilous venture, in which strong men might hesitate to risk their -lives and limbs." - -As she listened to his words she smiled. - -"O king," she said, "thou hidest thy surprise but ill. Yet am I not -offended, nor will I make a mystery of who I am. My name is Atalanta, -and I come from the mountains of Arcadia, where all day long I hunt -with the nymphs over hill and over dale, and through the dark forests, -following in the footsteps of her we serve, great Artemis the -huntress. At her command I stand before thee now, for she said to me, -'Atalanta, the land of Calydon lies groaning beneath the curse, -wherewith I cursed them because they forgot me, and gave me not my -dues. But do thou go and help them, and for thy sake I will lay aside -my wrath, and let them slay the monster that I sent against them. Yet -without thee shall they not accomplish it, but the glory of the hunt -shall be thine.' Thus did she speak, and in obedience to her word am I -come." - -When she had spoken, a murmur ran round the hall, and each man's gorge -rose within him as he determined in his mind that no mere woman should -surpass him in courage and strength. The sons of Thestius, the queen's -brothers, especially looked askance at her, and their hearts were -filled with jealousy and wrath; for her eye was bright and steady, and -her limbs looked supple and swift, and there seemed no reason why she -should not be a match for any man among them, in a trial where -swiftness of foot and sureness of eye would avail as much as brute -force. When Meleager saw their dark looks he was very angry that they -should so far forget their good breeding as to fail in welcoming a -guest, and he rose from his seat and went towards her. - -"O maiden," he said, "we make thee right welcome to our halls, and we -thank thee because thou hast heard our appeal, and art come to help us -in the day of our trouble. Come, now, and sit thee down, and make glad -thy heart with meat and wine, for thou must need it sorely after thy -long journeying." - -As he spoke, he took her by the hand and set her in a place of honour -between his father and himself, and saw that she had her fill of the -good fare on the board. As he sat beside her and talked with her, his -heart was kindled with love, for she was exceeding fair to look upon; -and the more he thought upon the morrow's hunting, the more loath was -he that she should risk her life in it. At length he said, - -"Atalanta, surely thou knowest not what manner of beast it is that we -are gathered together to destroy. Thou hast hunted the swift-footed -stag, perchance, through the greenwood, but never a monster so fierce -as this boar that Artemis has sent against us. I tell thee, it will be -no child's play, but a matter of death to some of us. Hast thou no -mother or father to mourn thee if any evil chance befall, or any lover -who is longing for thy return? Think well ere it be too late." - -But she laughed aloud at his words. - -"Thou takest me for some drooping damsel that sits at home and spins, -and faints if she see but a drop of blood. I tell thee, I know neither -father, nor mother, nor husband, nor brother, and I love but little -the lot of womenkind such as thou knowest. Never have I lived within -four walls, and the first roof that covered me was the forest-trees of -Mount Parthenius, which stands where three lands meet, on the borders -of Sparta, Argolis, and wooded Arcadia, that I have chosen for my -home. Whence I came or how I got to Parthenius no one can tell, and I -have no wish to find out. As for savage beasts, had I not the eyes -of a hawk and the feet of a deer, I had not been safe ten seconds on -the uplands of Arcadia. For there, as doubtless thou hast heard, there -dwells a fierce tribe of centaurs--monsters half human and half -horse--who have the passions of men and the strength of beasts. These, -when they set eyes upon me, were fired by my beauty, and pursued me -over hill and dale, and I fled like the wind before them; but ever and -anon I found time to turn and let fly from my bow a dart which fell -but seldom short of the mark. So dire was the havoc I wrought in their -herd that after a time they gave up in despair, and molested me no -more. So talk not to me of fierce beasts or of danger. All my life -long I have breathed in danger from the air about me, and I had as -soon die outright, as sit with thy womenkind in safety within, whilst -all of you went forth for the hunting of the boar." - -[Illustration: As he spoke, he took her by the hand and set her in a -place of honour between his father and himself.] - -And nothing that Meleager could say would turn her from her purpose. - -"Dost think I have left the mountains of Arcadia, and the nymphs, and -the joys and dangers of the hunt, to come and sit with the old wives -round thy palace fire in Calydon?" she said with a laugh; and her -white teeth shone like pearls in the torchlight, and the gleam of her -hair and the fire of her eyes kindled yet more surely the flame of -love in his heart, so that he could have fallen at her feet and begged -her for his sake to keep away from danger. But across the board he saw -the eyes of Toxeus and Plexippus, his mother's brothers, fixed upon -him, and their brows were dark and lowering as they frowned upon him -and Atalanta. So he said no more, lest they should discover his secret -and taunt him for his passion; but in his heart he knew that on the -morrow his thought would be as much for her safety as for the killing -of the boar. As for Atalanta, a stone would have returned his love as -readily as she. For a companion in the hunt she liked him full well, -but to give up her maiden life for his sake was as far from her -thoughts as the east is from the west. As yet she knew not the love of -man, and had vowed in her heart that she never would. Howbeit, such -things are not altogether within the power of mortals to will or not -to will, and Atalanta, like any other woman, was destined one day to -bow her proud head to the dust before a man's great love, though the -gods had not ordained that Meleager should be the one to win her. But -more of that hereafter. - -When the morrow dawned, great was the bustle and confusion in the -court of the palace, where all were to meet together for the hunting -of the boar. Attendants ran this way and that to fetch and carry for -their masters, and, as the huntsman blew his horn, the hounds barked -impatiently, and strained, whining, at their leashes. At length, when -all was ready, Althæa with her maidens came forth into the portico, -and bade farewell to her guests, her husband, her brothers, and to -Meleager, her son. - -"God speed thee, my son," she said, as she looked proudly on him, "and -good luck to thy hunting." - -Then she stood on the step and waved to them with a smile as they -turned to look back at her before the curve of the roadway hid them -from sight. But though a smile was on her lips, her eyes were full of -tears, and her heart within her was dark with a dim foreshadowing of -evil. With a heavy step, she turned and went into the house, and as -she passed the altar by the hearth she stopped and bowed her head. - -"Great Artemis," she prayed, "have mercy and bring my loved ones -safely back to me this day." - -Then she went to her chamber and drew forth from its hiding-place the -half-burnt brand on which her son's life depended. - -"His life, at any rate, is safe," she thought, "so long as this brand -is in my keeping." - -And she hid it away again where she knew no one could find it, and set -to work restlessly, to while away the hours as best she could, till -the hunters should come home. - -They, meanwhile, had gone their way up the steep path which led into -the mountains and deep into the heart of the forest, where they knew -their prey was lurking. Soon they came upon the track of his hoofs -leading to the dry bed of a stream, where the rushes and reeds grew -high in the marsh-land, and the bending willows cast their shadow over -the spot he had chosen for his lair. Here they spread the nets -cautiously about, and stationed themselves at every point of vantage, -and, when all was ready, let loose the hounds, and waited for the boar -to come forth from his hiding-place. Not long did they have to wait. -With a snort of rage he rushed out. The breath from his nostrils came -forth like steam, and the white foam flew from his mouth and covered -his bristly sides and neck. Quick as lightning, he made for the first -man he could see, and the tramp of his hoofs re-echoed through the -woods like thunder as he came upon the hard ground. As soon as he -rushed out, a shower of missiles fell towards him from every side, -but some were aimed awry or fell too far or too short of him, and -those that touched him slipped aside on his tough hide, as though they -had been feathers instead of bronze; and he broke through the nets -that had been spread to catch him, and galloped away unharmed, whilst -behind him a hound lay dead among the reeds, pierced through with his -tusk, and two of the hunters, who stood in his path, and had not been -able to rush aside in time, lay groaning on the ground with the iron -mark of his hoof upon them, and a gaping wound in the side of one. -When the rest saw that he had escaped them, they gave chase with all -speed, headed by Castor and Pollux, on their white horses, and -Atalanta close beside them, running swiftly as the wind. Ahead of them -the woodland track gave a sudden turn to the left, and the boar, -rushing blindly forward, would have plunged into the undergrowth and -bushes, and escaped beyond range of their darts. But Atalanta, seeing -what must happen, stopped short in the chase. Quick as thought, she -put an arrow to the string, and let fly at the great beast ahead; and -Artemis, true to her word, guided the arrow so that it pierced him in -the vital part behind the ear. With a snort of pain and fury, he -turned round upon the hunters and charged down towards them as they -came up from behind, and great would have been the havoc he had -wrought among them but for Meleager. As the brute bore down, he leaped -lightly to one side, and, gathering together all his strength, buried -the spear deep into the beast's black shoulder, and felled him to the -earth with the force of his blow. Immediately the others gathered -round, and helped to finish the work that Meleager had begun, and soon -the monster lay dead upon the ground in a pool of his own blood. Then -Meleager, with his foot upon the boar's head, spoke to the hunters. - -[Illustration: As the brute bore down, Meleager buried the spear deep -in his shoulder.] - -"My friends," he said, "I thank you all for the courage and devotion -you have shown this day. My land can once more raise her head in joy, -for the monster that wrought such havoc in her fields lies dead here -at my feet. Yet the price of his death has not been light, my -friends." And they bowed their heads in silence, as they remembered -the two whom the boar had struck in his rush, one of whom was now -dead. "Yet those who have suffered, have suffered gloriously, giving -up themselves, as brave men must, for the sake of others, and their -names shall surely not be unremembered by us all. Once more, my trusty -comrades, I thank you, every man of you. As for thee, lady," he -continued, turning to Atalanta, "while all have played their part, yet -the glory of the hunt is thine. But for thy sure hand and eye the -beast might yet be lurking in the forest. Wherefore, as a token of our -gratitude, I will give to thee the boar's head as a trophy to do with -as thou wilt." - -At his words a murmur of applause went round the ring of them that -listened. Only the voices of Toxeus and Plexippus were not heard, for -they were mad with jealousy and wrath, and as soon as there was -silence they spoke. - -"By what right," asked Toxeus, "shall one bear off the trophy of a -hunt in which each one of us has played his part?" - -The insolence of his words and looks roused the anger of Meleager to -boiling-point. All through the hunt the brothers had shown scant -courtesy to Atalanta, and now their rudeness was past bearing. - -"By the same right as the best man bears off the prize in any -contest," he answered quietly, though he was pale with rage. - -"Happy is that one who has first won the heart of the judge, then," -said Plexippus with a sneer, as he looked at Atalanta. - -By the truth and the falsehood of his words Meleager was maddened past -all bearing. Scarce knowing what he did, he sprang upon him, and -before anyone knew what he was about, he had buried his hunting-knife -in the heart of Plexippus. When Toxeus saw his brother fall back upon -the grass, he sprang upon Meleager, and for a moment they swung -backwards and forwards, held each in the other's deadly grip. But -Meleager was the younger and the stronger of the two, and soon Toxeus -too lay stretched upon the ground beside his brother, and a cry of -horror went through the crowd of those who stood by. Pale and -trembling, Meleager turned towards them. - -"My friends," he said, "farewell. You shall look upon my face no more. -Whether I slew them justly or no, the curse of Heaven is upon me, and -I know that night and day the Furies will haunt my steps, because my -hand is red with the blood of my kinsmen. O fair fields of Calydon, -that I have loved and served all my days, farewell for ever. Nevermore -shall I look upon you, nor my home on the steep hill-side, nor the -face of the queen, my mother; but I must hide my head in shame far -from the haunts of men. As for thee, lady," he said, turning to -Atalanta, "their taunt was false, yet true. Right honourably didst -thou win thy trophy, as all these here will testify;" and he pointed -to the hunters standing round. "Yet my soul leapt with joy when I -found that into thine hand and none other's I might give the prize of -the hunt. Wherefore, think kindly on my memory, lady, when I am far -away, for a brave man's heart is in thy keeping. Farewell." - -And he turned and went away by the forest-path. So surprised were all -the company that no man moved hand or foot to stop him. The first to -speak was Atalanta. - -"Comrades," she said, "do you bear home the dead and break the news as -gently as may be to the queen, and I will follow him, if perchance I -can comfort him, for the hand of Heaven is heavy upon him." - -So firmly did she speak that no man found it in his heart to withstand -her; and when she saw that they would do as she bid, she ran swiftly -down the path by which he had gone, and disappeared from sight. - -Meanwhile the day had been drawing towards its close, and Althæa had -come out into the portico to watch for the return of the hunters. The -rumour had reached the city that the boar had been killed, but not -without loss among the gallant band that had gone out against him, and -with a heavy heart Althæa was waiting to know who it was that had -fallen. In time she saw them returning home, and in their midst four -litters carried on the shoulders of some. When she saw them, her heart -stood still with fear, and as they came up and laid down the litters -before the doorway she was as one turned to marble, and moved neither -hand nor foot. When OEneus the king saw her, he took her gently by -the hand. - -"Come within, lady," he said; "the hunting of the boar has cost us -dear." - -"Ah! tell me the worst at once," she cried. "I can bear it better so. -The suspense is maddening me." - -"Two of those who lie before thee are strangers who have given -themselves for us," he said. "One of them is sore wounded, and the -other is gone beyond recovery. The other two, Althæa, are very near -and dear to us--Toxeus and Plexippus, thy brothers." - -And he pointed to two of the bodies which lay side by side with their -faces covered before her. With a wild cry she rushed to them, and drew -back the coverings, and gazed upon the faces that she loved so well. -As she looked, she saw the wounds that had killed them, and she knew -now that it was no wild beast that had slain them, but the hand of -man. Drawing herself up to her full height, she looked round on those -who stood by, and the gleam of her eyes was terrible to see. - -"Deceive me no more," she said, "but tell me how these two came to -fall by the hand of man." - -"Lady," said OEneus, "they sought a quarrel with one of our company, -and in anger he slew them both." - -For a moment she was silent, then in a low voice, yet one that all -could hear, she spoke. - -"My curse be upon him, whosoe'er he be. O Daughters of Destruction, -foul wingless Furies, by the blood of my brothers yet wet upon his -hand, I bid you track his footsteps night and day. May no roof cover -his head nor any man give him food or drink, but let him be a -vagabond on the face of the earth till just vengeance overtake him. -On thee, OEneus, do I lay this charge, and on my son Meleager, to -avenge the death of these my kinsmen, who have been foully slain." - -In vain did OEneus try to stop her. She was as one deaf to his -entreaties. When she had finished, she looked round for Meleager, and -when she could not see him, the blood froze in her veins. - -"My son," she cried--"where is my son?" - -"Lady," said OEneus, "even now the wingless bearers of thy curse are -hunting him through the forest." - -For a moment she swayed to and fro as though she would fall. - -"Ye gods, what have I done?" she muttered. - -Then with a cry she turned and rushed through the doorway, across the -deserted palace to her own chamber, and barring the door behind her, -she took from its hiding-place the brand she had kept jealously so -long. As on the day when the Fates had come to her, a bright fire was -burning on the hearth, and deep into the heart of it she pushed the -log with both her hands. - -"O my son, my son!" she cried; "to think that I should come to this! -But though the flame that devours thy life burns out my heart within -me, yet must I do it. Thus only can I save thee from my curse. For the -word, once spoken, never dies, and the Furies, once aroused, sleep -never, night nor day. Wherefore Death alone can give thee peace, O -Meleager, my first-born and my dearest." - -OEneus meanwhile had followed her, and stood without, asking her to -open to him. But she cried out to him, - -"All is well. I beg thee leave me. I would be alone." - -So he left her; and she stood watching the flames slowly eat the wood -away, and at last, when the log fell apart in ashes, she sank down -upon the floor, and with her son's life hers too went out for grief. - -Meleager meanwhile had gone blindly forward along the forest track, -and from afar Atalanta followed him. For a time he went onward, -straight as an arrow, never stopping, never turning. But when his -mother's curse was spoken, faster than the whirlwind the Furies flew -from the realms of endless night, and came and crouched before his -feet, loathsome shapes of darkness and of horror. With a cry he turned -aside, and tried to flee from them, but wherever he looked they were -there before him, and he reeled backwards and forwards like a drunken -man. But soon his strength seemed to give way, and he fell forward on -the grass, and Atalanta ran forward and took his head upon her knee. -To her eyes they two were alone in the heart of the forest, for the -foul shapes of the Furies he alone had seen. But now he lay with his -eyes closed, faint and weak, and she thought that some time in the -hunt he must have strained himself, and lay dying of some inward hurt -that no man could heal, for on his body she could see not a scratch. -So she sat in the gathering gloom with his head upon her lap. There -was nought else she could do. Help lay so far away that he would have -died alone had she left him. At last, when his heart beat so faint -that she thought it had stopped once for all, he opened his eyes and -looked up at her, and when he saw her the fear and the madness died -out of his face, and he smiled. - -"The gods are kind," he said. Once more he closed his eyes, and -Atalanta knew that he would open them never again. Gently she laid him -with his head on the moss-covered roots of a tree, and sped away to -the city to bear the news of his death. In the darkness of night they -bore him through the forest, and all the people gathered together and -watched from the walls the torchlit procession as it came slowly up -the hill; and the heart of each man of them was heavy within him as he -thought that the hero and saviour of his country was being carried -dead into the walls of his native town. By the side of his mother they -laid him, and burned above them the torches of the dead, and the -mourners, with heads bowed in grief, stood around. - -Thus did it come to pass that the hunting of the boar ended in grief -for the land of Calydon, and Atalanta went back to the Arcadian -woodlands with a sore place in her heart for Meleager, who had died -happy because his head was resting on her knee. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Curse of Echo - - -In the flowery groves of Helicon Echo was once a fair nymph who, hand -in hand with her sisters, sported along the green lawns and by the -side of the mountain-streams. Among them all her feet were the -lightest and her laugh the merriest, and in the telling of tales not -one of them could touch her. So if ever any among them were plotting -mischief in their hearts, they would say to her, - -"Echo, thou weaver of words, go thou and sit beside Hera in her bower, -and beguile her with a tale that she come not forth and find us. See -thou make it a long one, Echo, and we will give thee a garland to -twine in thy hair." - -And Echo would laugh a gay laugh, which rang through the grove. - -"What will you do when she tires of my tales?" she asked. - -"When that time comes we shall see," said they. - -So with another laugh she would trip away and cast herself on the -grass at Hera's feet. When Hera looked upon Echo her stern brow would -relax, and she would smile upon her and stroke her hair. - -"What hast thou come for now, thou sprite?" she would ask. - -"I had a great longing to talk with thee, great Hera," she would -answer, "and I have a tale--a wondrous new tale--to tell thee." - -"Thy tales are as many as the risings of the sun, Echo, and each one -of them as long as an old man's beard." - -"The day is yet young, mother," she would say, "and the tales I have -told thee before are as mud which is trampled underfoot by the side of -the one I shall tell thee now." - -"Go to, then," said Hera, "and if it pleases me I will listen to the -end." - -So Echo would sit upon the grass at Hera's feet, and with her eyes -fixed upon her face she would tell her tale. She had the gift of -words, and, moreover, she had seen and heard many strange things which -she alone could tell of. These she would weave into romances, adding -to them as best pleased her, or taking from them at will; for the best -of tale-tellers are those who can lie, but who mingle in with their -lies some grains of truth which they have picked from their own -experience. And Hera would forget her watchfulness and her jealousies, -and listen entranced, while the magic of Echo's words made each scene -live before her eyes. Meanwhile the nymphs would sport to their -hearts' content and never fear her anger. - -But at last came the black day of reckoning when Hera found out the -prank which Echo had played upon her so long, and the fire of her -wrath flashed forth like lightning. - -"The gift whereby thou hast deceived me shall be thine no more," she -cried. "Henceforward thou shalt be dumb till someone else has spoken, -and then, even if thou wilt, thou shalt not hold thy tongue, but must -needs repeat once more the last words that have been spoken." - -"Alas! alas!" cried the nymphs in chorus. - -"Alas! alas!" cried Echo after them, and could say no more, though she -longed to speak and beg Hera to forgive her. So did it come to pass -that she lost her voice, and could only say that which others put in -her mouth, whether she wished it or no. - -Now, it chanced one day that the young Narcissus strayed away from his -companions in the hunt, and when he tried to find them he only -wandered further, and lost his way upon the lonely heights of Helicon. -He was now in the bloom of his youth, nearing manhood, and fair as a -flower in spring, and all who saw him straightway loved him and longed -for him. But, though his face was smooth and soft as maiden's, his -heart was hard as steel; and while many loved him and sighed for him, -they could kindle no answering flame in his breast, but he would spurn -them, and treat them with scorn, and go on his way, nothing caring. -When he was born, the blind seer Teiresias had prophesied concerning -him, - -"So long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy." - -And his words came true, for Narcissus cared for neither man nor -woman, but only for his own pleasure; and because he was so fair that -all who saw him loved him for his beauty, he found it easy to get -from them what he would. But he himself knew nought of love, and -therefore but little of grief; for love at the best brings joy and -sorrow hand in hand, and if unreturned, it brings nought but pain. - -Now, when the nymphs saw Narcissus wandering alone through the woods, -they, too, loved him for his beauty, and they followed him wherever he -went. But because he was a mortal they were shy of him, and would not -show themselves, but hid behind the trees and rocks so that he should -not see them; and amongst the others Echo followed him, too. At last, -when he found he had really wandered astray, he began to shout for one -of his companions. - -"Ho, there! where art thou?" he cried. - -"Where art thou?" answered Echo. - -When he heard the voice, he stopped and listened, but he could hear -nothing more. Then he called again. - -"I am here in the wood--Narcissus." - -"In the wood--Narcissus," said she. - -"Come hither," he cried. - -"Come hither," she answered. - -Wondering at the strange voice which answered him, he looked all -about, but could see no one. - -"Art thou close at hand?" he asked. - -"Close at hand," answered Echo. - -Wondering the more at seeing no one, he went forward in the direction -of the voice. Echo, when she found he was coming towards her, fled -further, so that when next he called, her voice sounded far away. But -wherever she was, he still followed after her, and she saw that he -would not let her escape; for wherever she hid, if he called, she had -to answer, and so show him her hiding-place. By now they had come to -an open space in the trees, where the green lawn sloped down to a -clear pool in the hollow. Here by the margin of the water she stood, -with her back to the tall, nodding bulrushes, and as Narcissus came -out from the trees she wrung her hands, and the salt tears dropped -from her eyes; for she loved him, and longed to speak to him, and yet -she could not say a word. When he saw her he stopped. - -"Art thou she who calls me?" he asked. - -"Who calls me?" she answered. - -"I have told thee, Narcissus," he said. - -"Narcissus," she cried, and held out her arms to him. - -"Who art thou?" he asked. - -"Who art thou?" said she. - -"Have I not told thee," he said impatiently, "Narcissus?" - -"Narcissus," she said again, and still held out her hands -beseechingly. - -"Tell me," he cried, "who art thou and why dost thou call me?" - -"Why dost thou call me?" said she. - -At this he grew angry. - -"Maiden, whoever thou art, thou hast led me a pretty dance through the -woods, and now thou dost nought but mock me." - -"Thou dost nought but mock me," said she. - -At this he grew yet more angry, and began to abuse her, but every word -of abuse that he spoke she hurled back at him again. At last, tired -out with his wanderings and with anger, he threw himself on the grass -by the pool, and would not look at her nor speak to her again. For a -time she stood beside him weeping, and longing to speak to him and -explain, but never a word could she utter. So at last in her misery -she left him, and went and hid herself behind a rock close by. After a -while, when his anger had cooled down somewhat, Narcissus remembered -he was very thirsty, and noticing for the first time the clear pool -beside him, he bent over the edge of the bank to drink. As he held out -his hand to take the water, he saw looking up towards him a face which -was the fairest face he had ever looked on, and his heart, which never -yet had known what love was, at last was set on fire by the face in -the pool. With a sigh he held out both his arms towards it, and the -figure also held out two arms to him, and Echo from the rock answered -back his sigh. When he saw the figure stretching out towards him and -heard the sigh, he thought that his love was returned, and he bent -down closer to the water and whispered, "I love thee." - -"I love thee," answered Echo from the rock. - -At these words he bent down further, and tried to clasp the figure in -his arms, but as he did so, it vanished away. The surface of the pool -was covered with ripples, and he found he was clasping empty water to -his breast. So he drew back and waited awhile, thinking he had been -overhasty. In time, the ripples died away and the face appeared again -as clear as before, looking up at him longingly from the water. Once -again he bent towards it, and tried to clasp it, and once again it -fled from his embrace. Time after time he tried, and always the same -thing happened, and at last he gave up in despair, and sat looking -down into the water, with the teardrops falling from his eyes; and the -figure in the pool wept, too, and looked up at him with a look of -longing and despair. The longer he looked, the more fiercely did the -flame of love burn in his breast, till at length he could bear it no -more, but determined to reach the desire of his heart or die. So for -the last time he leaned forward, and when he found that once again he -was clasping the empty water, he threw himself from the bank into the -pool, thinking that in the depths, at any rate, he would find his -love. But he found naught but death among the weeds and stones of the -pool, and knew not that it was his own face he loved reflected in the -water below him. Thus were the words of the prophet fulfilled, "So -long as he sees not himself he shall live and be happy." - -Echo, peeping out from the rock, saw all that had happened, and when -Narcissus cast himself into the pool, she rushed forward, all too -late, to stop him. When she found she could not save him, she cast -herself on the grass by the pool and wept and wept, till her flesh and -her bones wasted away with weeping, and naught but her voice remained -and the curse that was on her. So to this day she lives, a formless -voice haunting rocks and caves and vaulted halls. Herself no man has -seen since the day Narcissus saw her wringing her hands for love of -him beside the nodding bulrushes, and no man ever shall see again. But -her voice we all have heard repeating our words when we thought that -no one was by; and though now she will say whatever we bid her, if -once the curse were removed, the cry of her soul would be, - -[Illustration: For the last time he leaned forward.] - -"Narcissus, Narcissus, my love, come back--come back to me!" - -By the side of the clear brown pool, on the grass that Echo had -watered with her tears, there sprang up a sweet-scented flower, with a -pure white face and a crown of gold. And to this day in many a land -men call that flower "Narcissus," after the lad who, for love of his -own fair face, was drowned in the waters of Helicon. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Sculptor and the Image - - -In the fair isle of Cyprus, long ago, lived a young sculptor named -Pygmalion. As a child he had been quick to see beauty in the forms -around him, and while he found nothing better, he would dig the clay -in the garden and sit for many a long hour happy in the shade of the -trees, modelling horses and cows and human figures, whilst his mother -was busied with her duties in the house. She, for her part, was glad -he had found something to amuse him and keep him out of mischief, for -he had no brothers or sisters to play with, and his father was dead, -so they two lived alone together in a great white house between the -mountains and the sea. From time to time she would come down into the -garden to look at his figures and praise them; for though they were -childish and crude, and sometimes grotesque, they were full of life -and promise, and being a wise woman, she knew that where Nature points -the way, it is well to make the road as smooth as may be. At first she -gave him no better material to work with than the clay he could dig -for himself, nor any master to teach him; for she wished to see how -long he would persevere, and how far he would get alone. There are -times, too, when a master can hinder more than he can teach. - -One day when he was old enough, she took him down to the city below, -where the people were keeping the feast of Aphrodite, and they watched -the glad procession wind through the streets, with its choruses of -priests and maidens, and little children scattering roses in the way. -With the rest of the folk they followed the procession up the hill to -the shining temple, and Pygmalion stood beside his mother, and -wondered at the tapering white columns and the clouds of incense, and -all the colours and fair forms such as he had never seen before. The -picture of all these things he carried home in his mind, and thought -of them by day and dreamt of them by night, till they became almost as -real to him as the living forms he saw around him. Then he worked more -busily than ever at his modelling in the garden; but whereas before he -had been content to leave the figures he had made, standing them out -in rows for his mother to admire, now he was no longer pleased with -his work. He would look at the figure he had made and compare it with -the image in his mind, and he saw that while his ideal was fair and -beautiful beyond measure, his work was clumsy and rude. Then he would -set to work and alter his model. But whatever he did he was not -satisfied, and when his mother came down from the house to see him, -she found him with broken bits lying about him, and never a finished -figure to show her. - -Then she knew that one of two things had happened; either he had come -to the limit of his powers, and, as a child will, had grown tired of a -thing in which he could make no further progress; or else he had -reached an age when the mind sees fair forms which the hand cannot -fashion, and in disgust at his failure he had broken up his figures, -though they were better than what he had done before, because they -fell short of the ideal in his mind. - -"Thou art tired of playing with clay, my child," she said; "come with -me, and I will see if we cannot find something that will please thee -better." - -So she kept him with her, and taught him letters, and read to him -tales of the gods and heroes, till the child's eyes grew big with -wonder, and she saw that all she read passed before his mind like a -moving picture. She read to him from the old Greek poets, tales of -bravery and might, of love and of adventure--tales, too, of cruelty -and bloodshed, jealousy and hate. But whatever she read was beautiful, -for the Greeks loved beauty above all things else, and clothed their -thoughts in fair forms of words, so that even when they told of -wickedness and wrong they left no stain of ugliness upon the mind. -Pygmalion drank in eagerly all that was read to him, and because he -had within him the soul of a poet he understood. The music of the -words sank into his heart like seed planted in a fertile soil, which -springs up to forms of loveliness and grace. So did the old tales -bring before his eyes shapes of beauty, and once again he began to go -down into the garden and try to mould them into figures of clay. His -mother watched him, and saw that he persevered, and that week by week -his models grew more beautiful and more true, as the image in his own -mind grew clearer. Then she knew that her reading had done what she -hoped it would do, and that the vague and fleeting visions had become -for him forms as clear as those he saw around him. - -"At least my son has the soul of an artist," she thought, "but whether -he has the hands and the fingers of one who can do more than play with -the clay, the gods alone can tell. He shall have a master to teach -him, and in time we shall see whether he is one of the many in whom -the divine fire burns, but whose bodies are instruments too coarse to -carry out the thoughts of the soul, or whether he is one of the few -who are able to do that of which others vainly dream." - -So she gave him a master--a white-haired, venerable man, in whom lived -the spirit of the old Greek sculptors, who had been the first to show -mankind how stone and marble might be wrought into shapes of beauty. -He taught the lad how to work in all kinds of stone and metal, and to -copy faithfully the forms he saw around him. But he would not let him -be satisfied with this alone, for he saw that he had in him the making -of better things. - -"Pygmalion," he would say, "in life there are many things that are not -fair, but in art all things should be fair, and no art is truly great -that is not beautiful. When thou lookest on the world, see only that -which is beautiful; thou, because thou hast the soul of a poet, wilt -see beauty where others cannot find it. Drink it in as a thirsty man -will drink from the wayside stream, then give forth to the world, in -stone, copies of those ideal forms thou seest with the eye of thy soul -alone." - -The child was an apt pupil; he understood, and did as his master bade -him. - -As the years flew by, he grew to be a man and a great sculptor, so -that in the temples of the gods and the palaces of the rich his -statues stood, and at the corners of the streets, a joy to rich and -poor. The years, which had brought him to fame, had taken from him the -white-haired old man, his master, and the mother who had helped to -make him what he was; and now he lived alone in the great white house -between the mountains and the sea. But he was happy, perfectly happy, -working all day long at his images, and dreaming each night of fairer -forms that he would some day work into stone and marble. His friends -would come up from the town to look at his work, or to buy, and would -say to him, - -"Pygmalion, art thou not lonely here, all alone? Why dost thou not -take thee a wife, and rear up children to be a comfort to thee in -thine old age?" - -And he would answer, "No, I am not lonely, for my art is to me both -wife and children. I will never marry one of the daughters of men." - -Whatever they said, they could not move him from his resolve. But what -his friends could not do Aphrodite accomplished. When she saw there -was one man among the Cyprians who had reached the prime of life -without giving her a thought, or offering up one prayer before her -shrine, she was angry, and determined that he should feel her power. -So one night she sent into his mind the vision of a maiden, who in -loveliness surpassed all other forms he had ever dreamed of, and she -set his heart aflame, so that he thought he saw a living form before -him. He started up in his bed and held out his arms towards her, but -awoke with a start to find he was clasping the empty air. Then he knew -it was only a vision he had seen; but it haunted him, and he tossed -restlessly from side to side, unable to sleep. At last he could bear -it no more; while the dawn was yet grey in the east he rose from his -couch and went to his workroom. Gathering together his instruments and -some clay, he set to work to model the figure of his dream. On and on -he worked, scarce thinking of food or rest, and chose out a block of -fair white marble, which day by day grew into shape beneath his -fingers. In his hand there seemed a magic it had never had before, so -that his chisel never failed nor slipped, till the marble stood -transformed before him, shaped into the image of a perfect woman, the -vision of his dream; and he loved her as other men love a woman in the -flesh, with his whole heart and soul. But small joy did he have of his -love, for though he had fashioned her with eyes that spoke to him of -love and hands held out towards him, yet when he spoke to her she -could give no answer, and when he clasped her in his arms her touch -was the cold, hard touch of marble. Then he tried to put her away from -his mind, and covered her over with a curtain; but when he was not -looking at the marble figure, her image was still present before his -mind, and he could not forget her. Day by day his love grew, till it -became a burning fever in his heart. He grew thin and ill from want of -food and rest, and could neither work by day nor sleep by night. His -friends, when they came up to see him, marvelled at the change in -him; and when they asked to see what new work he had done he would -answer, - -"My friends, I have no new work to show you. The cunning has departed -from my hand. Never again shall I fashion the white marble into shapes -of beauty." - -They wondered what had come over him, for the image that had been his -undoing he never showed them, nor let them know what was troubling his -heart. But he made a niche for her in his chamber where the light fell -upon her from the window, and at night when he could not sleep he -would sit with his arms clasped about her ankles and his head resting -on her feet. Her face would look down on him full of pity and love, -pale and beautiful in the cold white light of the moon. When the day -dawned and the cloudlets clustered red about the rising sun, the warm -rays would fall upon her giving to her some hue of life, and -Pygmalion's heart would beat high with the hope that a miracle had -been wrought, and that his love at last had kindled a soul akin to his -own in the marble statue before him. With a cry he would put his arms -about her, but still she remained a cold, hard, unresponsive stone. So -day by day and week by week he grew more wretched; for there is nought -like a passionate love which is unreturned, and which never can be -returned, to take out the life from a man. - -At last Aphrodite had compassion on him, when she saw that he had -suffered as much and more than most men at her hands, and that he no -longer held her in disdain. One night Pygmalion, as usual, had been -kneeling before the statue with his arm clasped about her feet, till, -tired out with longing, he had fallen asleep. On the breath of the -night wind Aphrodite came in, and she kissed the statue on the lips. - -[Illustration: On the breath of the night wind Aphrodite came in, and -she kissed the statue on the lips.] - -"Let love kindle life," she said. "Live, Galatea, thou milk-white -maid, and bring joy to the heart of Pygmalion." - -Then she stole forth again through the moonlit casement, and Pygmalion -slept on unconscious. In the morning the sunlight streamed in through -the window, and fell full upon his face. With a start he awoke, and -looked up at the statue, and to his sun-dazed eyes it seemed to move. - -"O Aphrodite," he cried, "mock me not! Thou hast deceived me so -often." - -In despair he cast his arms about the image, certain that once again -he would find her a cold white stone. But lo! instead of unyielding -marble he was clasping in his arms a living woman. Her arms were about -his neck, her lips on his lips, and she looked into his eyes with a -fire that answered the fire in his own. - -"At last, at last," said he, "my love has prevailed!" - -"Even in the heart of a stone, Pygmalion," she said, "love can kindle -love. My form is the work of thy hand, and my soul is the child of thy -love. As long as stone can last, so long shall my body last; and as -long as thy love can live, so long shall my soul live also." - -"My love," he said, "will live for ever." - -"Then for ever," said she, "my soul will live with thine." - -So as husband and wife they lived together for many a long year. The -cunning came back to Pygmalion's hand, and many a fair statue did he -make for the people of Cyprus. In time he died in a green old age. His -spirit fled away to the dwelling-place of souls, and with him the -spirit of Galatea, his wife; and her body returned to the form in -which Pygmalion first had made her--a fair white marble image. In the -garden where he, in his childhood, had learned to model the clay, the -Cyprians buried him, building a fair tomb over him, and in a niche -they placed the statue of Galatea. So the words she had spoken when -she came to life were fulfilled. Her form lived as long as stone could -live, and her soul lived as long as Pygmalion could love her. And -which of us can say that this could not be for ever, or that they do -not still live in the light of each other's love in the dwelling-place -of souls? - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Divine Musician - - -North-West of the Ægean, where the cliffs of Pelion rise sheer out of -the sea, dwelt long ago Cheiron, the centaur, the wisest of living -things, half man, half horse. Many brothers had he, who in form were -like himself, but their hearts within were hard and wild, and because -of their untamed passions and their cruelty and lust they were hated -alike by gods and men. But Cheiron was gentle and mild. He knew all -manner of strange things; he could prophesy, and play upon the lyre, -and cure men of their hurts by means of healing herbs. He was brave -withal, and had been in many a bloody fight, and knew the arts of war -full as well as the arts of peace. Wherefore the old Hellenes called -him Cheiron, the Better One, and sent up their sons to live with him -that they might be taught all the things which man should know. In a -hollow cave on the mountain-side he had his home. Far up above him the -snow-capped peaks of Pelion kept watch over the nestling townships of -the plain, and far, far below the waves of the Ægean washed without -ceasing on the rocks of that pitiless coast, now soft and soothing as -the song a mother sings to her child, now loud and boisterous beneath -the lash of the storm-wind, when the seabirds fly screaming to the -shelter of the shore. All around were dark forests of chestnut, pine -and oak, where many a fierce beast had his lair. In the branches of -the trees the wild birds built their nests and filled the dark glades -with song. About the mouth of the cave the ground was trampled hard -beneath the tread of many feet, and paths led this way and that, some -into the heart of the forests, others down the steep cliff to the -shore. - -Every morning at sunrise a troop of boys and youths would come forth -from the cave, and, dividing into groups, would go their several ways -to fish or to hunt, or to follow the course of some stream to its -unknown source in the mountains. Sometimes Cheiron himself would go -with them, if he thought they had need of his help; but more often he -left them to their own devices, to follow each one his own bent as -Nature prompted him. In the evening they would come home and tell him -of their doings in the day; and he would praise or blame them, -according as they had done well or ill, and show them how they might -do better another time. Then they would go to their couches of dried -moss and leaves, and sleep the deep sleep of youth and health, while -the cool night breeze blew in upon their faces from the mouth of the -cave, and put fresh life and strength into their tired limbs. In the -winter-time, when the night was longer than the day, and the snow lay -deep upon the hills, they would light a great fire in front of the -cave with logs they had stored in the summer months, and Cheiron -would take his lyre and sing to them of all things in heaven and -earth, while they lay round about and listened. The songs which he -sang to them then they never forgot, because Cheiron was wise, and -spoke to their souls in his singing. So they laid up his songs in -their hearts; and many a long year after, when they were grown men far -away, and some danger or difficulty stood in their path, the drift of -his teaching would come back to them in the words of a song, and their -hearts would grow brave and strong once more to act worthily of their -boyhood's sunny days on Pelion. Many a hero whose name still lives -among men had been trained by Cheiron in his youth--Peleus, who -married a goddess, and Achilles his son, the swiftest and bravest of -mortal men; and Jason, the leader of the Argonauts; and Asklepios, the -mighty healer; and, not least among them, Orpheus, the greatest of -Greek musicians and mystics, whose tale I will tell you now. - -One day, as the shades of evening were beginning to fall, Cheiron -stood before the mouth of the cave waiting for the lads to come home. -Sooner than he expected he saw one of them far away coming down a path -from the mountains, and he marvelled that he should return so soon and -alone. As he came nearer Cheiron saw that he walked with his eyes upon -the ground, deep in thought. Every now and again he stopped and looked -round upon the peaceful hillsides stretching calm and smiling in the -golden glow of the evening; and when he had gazed for a moment he -sighed, as though he would breathe into his soul the beauty he saw -around him, and then went on his way once more with his eyes on the -ground. So he walked till he came close to the cave and saw Cheiron -standing in the entrance. Then he ran up to him and put his hand upon -his shoulder. - -"My father," he cried, "look round upon the hills; hast thou ever seen -them so fair as they have been this day?" - -Cheiron smiled at his words. - -"Orpheus," he said, "the fair face of the earth changes but little. In -the soul of man it lies to look upon her and see her beauty or to be -blind." - -"Till this day I have been blind, Cheiron," he said. - -"And who has lifted the veil from thine eyes, my son?" asked his -master. - -"I know not," he said. "But this morning, while yet it was dark, there -came to me a strange unrest and a longing to be alone. So I crept -forth from the cave whilst you were all sleeping, and climbed up the -mountain-side--up, up, in the grey light before dawn, till I came to -the place where the white snow lies like a cloak about the shaggy -shoulders of Pelion. There I left the track of my footsteps where no -feet but mine had trod, and climbed up upon a boulder and looked out -across the sea. And I saw the great sun rise out of the east. As I -looked it seemed that I beheld the face of God; and as the snow and -the sea and the forests awoke to life in the light of His glory, my -soul awoke within me. All the day long I wandered about the forests -and hills; and I saw the beauty of the trees and the grass, and the -grace of the wild deer as he bounded over the rocks, as I had never -seen it before. The wonder of this day lies like a burden on my heart -that I fain would ease, yet I have no words to tell of it." - -Then Cheiron took up the lyre which was lying by his side and passed -his fingers gently over the strings. - -"Orpheus," he said, "many a long year ago, when thou wast a little -lad, thy mother Calliope brought thee to me. And she put thy hand in -my hand, and said: 'Cheiron, make a man of my son. Make him brave and -fearless and strong, a worthy companion of the noble lads thou hast -around thee. When the right time comes I will breathe my spirit upon -him, and he shall be great, as few in this world are great.' This day -she has kept her word, Orpheus. She has breathed her spirit upon thee, -and has opened the eyes of thy soul and made them see." - -"Who is my mother Calliope?" asked the lad. - -"She is the Fair-voiced One who speaks through the lips of mortals by -music and song, Orpheus. With her sisters, she dwells for ever by the -sunlit streams of Helicon, where they follow in the footsteps of -Apollo, their lord, across the green lawns and the flowery meadows. -All knowledge, all music of sound and of words, comes to men by their -gift--those nine great sisters, the Muses. Happy art thou to be her -son. Take now this lyre from mine hand. Ease the burden of thy soul in -song, and learn how great is the gift she has given thee." - -So Orpheus took the lyre from his master, and struck the chords, as -all the lads who dwelt with Cheiron knew full well how to do. But -instead of the old songs that he had learnt from his childhood, a new -song came to his lips, and he sang as he had never sung before. Far -away upon the hillsides his companions heard his voice, and they -stopped upon their homeward way to listen, as the evening breeze bore -the sound to their ears. When they knew that the voice came from home, -they hastened on and drew silently near, that no sound might disturb -the singer, and throwing themselves upon the ground at his feet, -forgot their weariness and hunger as they listened. On and on he sang, -forgetful of all else but his song, till the red glow of the evening -died away in the west and the stars shone pale in the twilight. There -was a strange magic about his music which drew all living things to -his feet, as a magnet draws the cold heart of steel. From the woods -and the forests they came, and from the bare hillsides--the lion, the -leopard and the trembling fawn. The snake came forth from his -hiding-place, the rabbit from his hole, and the wild birds wheeled -about his head and settled on the brow of the cave. The very trees -seemed to hear him, as they swayed their heads to and fro to the -rhythm of his song. As he looked round upon his comrades whilst he -sang, his heart grew strong within him, for he felt that a strange new -power had been born in his soul, which could bow the heads of men -beneath his will as the wind bows the rushes by the stream. So he sang -on as the twilight deepened into night, and all the stars of heaven -came forth to listen, till at length his song died upon his lips, like -a breeze lulled to rest at sunset. For a moment the creatures lay -spellbound around him; then one by one they crept back to their homes, -with their fears and their hatreds tamed for a while by the magic of -his singing. And his companions crowded round him with words of praise -and eager questions. - -"Who taught thee thy magic song, Orpheus?" they cried. - -"The sunrise and the snow," he answered, "and the teaching of Cheiron, -and my happy days with you, and the spirit of my mother Calliope--all -these have taught me my song." - -But his answer was a dark saying to them, and not one of them -understood it, save Cheiron. He knew that it is the commonest things -in life that are the material of all that is beautiful and fair, just -as a temple may be built of common stone; but that the children of the -Muses are few, who can by music and art open the blind hearts of men -to see. - -Thus did the gift of song fall upon Orpheus, so that he became the -greatest of all singers upon earth. All day long he would wander about -the woods and the hills, and tame the heart of every living thing with -the magic of his voice. - -One day it chanced that he came into a wood where he had never been -before, and he followed a grass-grown track which led to the mouth of -a cave. On one side of the cave stood a tall beech-tree, whose -moss-covered roots offered a tempting seat, and close by a clear -stream gushed forth from the rocks. He drank eagerly of the water, for -he had wandered far and was thirsty; and when he had quenched his -thirst, he sat down on the roots of the beech-tree and began his song. -As before, the wild things gathered about him, and crouched at his -feet, tame and silent, as he sang; and from the shadow of the cave -crept a wood-nymph, and lay upon the grass, with her chin between her -hands, looking up into his face. For a time he did not see her, so -silently had she come; but at last the power of her eyes drew his -eyes upon her, and he turned his head and looked at her. When he saw -her, his arm fell useless by his side and his voice died away in his -throat, for he had never looked upon anyone so fair. Her hair was -black as the storm-cloud, but her eyes were blue as the summer sky, -and she lay like a white flower in the grass at his feet. For a long -moment he gazed into her face without speaking, as she gazed back at -him, and at last he spoke. - -"Who art thou, maiden?" he asked. - -"I am Eurydice," she answered. - -"Thy hair is black as midnight, Eurydice," he said, "and thine eyes -are bright as the noonday." - -"Are not midnight and noonday fair to thine eyes?" she asked. - -"They are fair indeed, but thou art fairer." - -"Then I am well content," she said. - -"I know not thy name nor thy face, Eurydice," said he, "but my heart -beats with thy heart as though we were not strangers." - -"When two hearts beat together, Orpheus, they are strangers no more, -whether they have known each other all their days, or have met as thou -and I have met. Long ago the fame of thee, and of thy singing, reached -mine ears, but I hardened my heart against thee, and said, 'It is an -idle rumour, and he is no better than other men, before whose face I -flee.' But now the gods have brought thy steps to the hollow cave -where I dwell, and thou, by thy magic, hast drawn me to thy feet, so -that I, who doubted thy power, must follow thee whithersoever thou -wilt." - -[Illustration: From the shadow of the cave crept a wood-nymph, and lay -upon the grass.] - -"Shall I sing thee a song, Eurydice--the song thou hast sown in my -heart?" - -"Yes, sing me that song," she answered. - -So he struck the chords of his lyre and sang her the song that was -born of her beauty. One by one the wild creatures stole back to the -forest, for that song was not for them, and they two were left alone -beneath the spreading boughs of the beech-tree. As he sang, Eurydice -crept closer to him, till her head rested on his knee and her long -black hair fell in a cloud about his feet. As she drew nearer his -voice grew lower, till it became but a whisper in her ear. Then he -laid his lyre on the ground beside him and put his arms about her, and -their hearts spoke to each other in the tongue that knows not sound -nor words. - -So it came to pass that Orpheus returned no more to dwell with Cheiron -and his companions in the hollow cave below Pelion, but lived with -Eurydice, his wife, in her cave in the heart of the forest. But he -never forgot his boyhood's happy days, nor all that Cheiron had done -for him. He would come often to see him and take counsel with him, and -sing to the lads his magic song. For a few short years he lived a life -the gods might envy, till the dark days came, when not even music -could bring comfort to his heart. For one day, as he roamed with -Eurydice through the dark forest, it chanced that she unwittingly trod -upon a snake, and the creature turned upon her and pierced her white -foot with its venomous fang. Like liquid fire the poison ran through -her veins, and she lay faint and dying in his arms. - -"O Eurydice," he cried, "Eurydice, open thine eyes and come back to -me!" - -For a moment the agony of his voice awoke her to life. - -"Orpheus," she said, "beloved, this side of the river of death we can -dwell together no more. But love, my dear one, is stronger than death, -and some day our love shall prevail, never again to be conquered." - -When she had spoken her head sank down upon his breast, and her spirit -fled away, to return no more. So he bore the fair image of his wife in -his arms, and laid her in the depths of the cave that had been their -home. Above her head he placed a great pine torch, and all the long -night watches he sat with his arms about her and his cheek against her -cheek; and his heart groaned within him with a grief too great for -words. Ere the day dawned he kissed for the last time the lips that -could speak to him never again, and laid back her head on a pillow of -leaves and moss. Then he pulled down the earth and stones about the -mouth of the cave, so that no one could find the opening, and left for -evermore the home he had loved so well. Onward he walked in the grey -light of dawn, little caring where he went, and struck the chords of -his lyre to tell all the earth of his grief. The trees and the flowers -bowed down their heads as they listened, the clouds of heaven dropped -tears upon the ground, and the whole world mourned with him for the -death of Eurydice his wife. - -"Oh, sleep no more, ye woods and forests!" he sang, "sleep no more, -but toss your arms in the sighing wind, and bow your heads beneath the -sky that weeps with me. For Eurydice is dead. She is dead. No more -shall her white feet glance through the grass, nor the field-flowers -shine in her hair. But, like last year's snow, she is melted away, and -my heart is desolate without her. Oh! why may the dried grass grow -green again, but my love must be dead for ever? O ye woods and -forests, sleep no more, but awake and mourn with me. For Eurydice is -dead; she is dead, dead, dead!" - -So he wandered, making his moan and wringing the hearts of all who -heard him, with the sorrow of his singing. And when he could find no -comfort upon earth he bethought him of the words of his wife: - -"This side of the river of death we can dwell together no more. But -love, my dear one, is stronger than death, and some day our love shall -prevail, never again to be conquered." - -He pondered the words in his heart, and wondered what she might mean. - -"If love is stronger than death," he thought, "then my love can win -her back. If I can charm the hearts of all living things with the -magic of my song, I may charm, too; the souls of the dead and of their -pitiless king, so that he shall give me back Eurydice, my wife. I will -go down to the dark halls of Hades, and bring her up to the fair earth -once more." - -When hope was thus born anew in his heart he grew brave for any -venture, and pressed forward on his way till he came to the place men -called the mouth of Hades. Nothing daunted by the tales of horror they -told him, he entered the fearsome cave, which led deep down into the -bowels of the earth, where noisome vapours choked the breath in his -throat, and dark forms crouched in his path and fled shrieking before -him, till at last he stood by the shores of the ninefold Styx, that -winds about the realms of the dead. Then he shouted aloud to Charon, -the ferryman, to row him across in his boat. When the old man heard -his voice, he stopped midway across the stream. - -"Who is it that calls me in the voice of the living?" he asked. - -"It is Orpheus," he answered. "I am come to fetch back Eurydice, my -wife." - -But the old man laughed, and his laugh cut the heart of Orpheus like a -knife. - -"O beardless innocent," he said, "who gave thee power over life and -death? I tell thee that many have stood by the shores of this stream -and entreated me to take them across, that they might bring their dear -ones back with them. But no living soul shall sit in my boat, nor -shall the dead, who have sat in it once, ever return to sit in it -again. Go back to the earth, young man, and when thy time has come, -thou too shalt sit in my boat, never fear." - -"That time has come, Charon," he said, "and I shall sit in thy boat -this day." - -Raising his lyre, he struck the chords, and his love taught him the -tune and the words to sing. Steadfastly he gazed at Charon, and the -magic of his singing drew the old man towards him as surely as though -the rope of the boat were in his hands. Without ceasing his song, he -took his place in the stern, and in time to the music Charon dipped -his oars in the stream, so that the boat swung over the river as it -had never swung before. As it stranded in the shallow water, Orpheus -leaped lightly to shore. - -"Farewell for the present, Charon," he cried; "we shall meet again ere -long." - -He hastened on his way, playing and singing his magic song. Resting on -his pole, the old man looked after him with wonder in his heart, and -shaded his eyes with his hand. For a ray of the sun seemed to shine -for a moment in that cold grey land as Orpheus passed by. The pale -flowers of hell tossed their heads to and fro, as though the west wind -played through their leaves, and their colour and their scent came -back to them once more. With a sigh, Charon breathed in the perfume -from the air, and tossed back the grey locks from his brow and -straightened his drooping shoulders. - -"It is long since I smelt the fresh smell of the earth," he muttered. -"Who is this young god, who can bring light to the darkness and life -to the realms of the dead?" - -So till Orpheus passed out of sight and the sound of his singing grew -faint in the distance Charon stood looking after him, and then with a -sigh he sat down in his boat and bent to his oars once more. - -And Orpheus went on his way, with hope beating high in his heart, till -he came to the portals of the palace of Death. On the threshold lay -Cerberus, the three-headed hound of hell, who night and day kept watch -beside the gate to see that no one passed in save those who had died -upon earth, and that those who had passed him once should pass him -never again. When he heard Orpheus coming, he sprang to his feet and -snarled and growled and bared his sharp white fangs; but as the -strains of music grew clearer he sank silent to the ground, and -stretched his three great heads between his paws. Orpheus, as he -passed by, bent down and stroked him, and the fierce beast licked his -hands. So did he enter into the gates of Death, and passed through the -shadowy halls, till he stood before the throne of Pluto, the king. A -dim and awful form did he sit, wrapped about in darkness and mist, and -on his right hand sat Persephone, his wife, whom he stole from the -meadows of Sicily. When he saw Orpheus his eyes gleamed like the gleam -of cold steel, and he stretched forth his gaunt right arm towards him. - -"What dost thou here, Orpheus?" he asked. - -"I am come to ask thee a boon, O king," he answered. - -"There be many that ask me a boon," said Pluto, "but none that receive -it." - -"Yet none have stood before thee in the flesh, as I do, O king, to ask -their boon." - -"Because thou hast trespassed unlawfully on my domain, dost thou think -I will grant thee thy boon?" - -"Nay; but because my grief is so great that I have dared what none -have dared before me, I pray thee to hear me." - -Without waiting for an answer, he struck his lyre and sang to them the -story of his life, and of how he had loved and lost Eurydice. The eyes -of the pale queen brightened when she heard him, and the colour came -back to her cheeks, as the song brought back to her mind the days of -her girlhood and the sunlit meadows of Sicily. Then a great pity -filled her heart for Eurydice, who had left the green earth for ever, -and might not return, as she herself did, in the spring-time, living -only the dark winter months below. As Orpheus ceased his song she laid -her hand upon her husband's. - -"My lord," she said, "grant his boon, I pray thee. He is brave and -true-hearted, and he sings as no man has ever sung before." - -But the stern king sat with his head upon his hand and eyes cast down, -deep in thought. At length he spoke, and his voice was soft and kind. - -"Orpheus," he said, "thou hast touched my heart with thy singing. Yet -it lies not with me to grant thee thy boon." - -"But if the queen, thy wife, may return to the earth in the -spring-time, may not Eurydice, too, come back at thy command?" asked -Orpheus. - -"The ways of the gods are not the ways of mortals, Orpheus; they walk -by paths you may not tread. Yet, though I have no power to give thee -back Eurydice, thou mayest win her thyself if thou hast the strength." - -"How may that be?" cried Orpheus. "For the sake of Eurydice I have -strength for any venture." - -"No strength of the flesh can win her, Orpheus, but the strength of a -faith unfaltering. I will send for her, and when thou seest her stand -within the hall, holding out her hands towards thee, thou must harden -thy heart, and turn and flee before her by the way thou camest. For -the love of thee she will follow, and she will entreat thee to look at -her and give her thy hand over the stony way. But thou must neither -look at her nor speak to her. One look, one word, will be thine -undoing, and she must vanish from thine eyes for ever. The spell of -thy song still rests upon the guardians of my kingdom, and they will -let thee and thy wife pass by. But think not by word nor deed to help -her. Alone she passed from life to death, and alone she must pass back -from death to life. Her love and thy faith can be the only bond -between you. Hast thou the strength for this?" - -"My lord," cried Orpheus, "'tis but a small thing to ask of a love -like mine." - -"It will be harder than thou thinkest," the king replied. -"Nevertheless, I will call Eurydice." - -He signed to a messenger to fetch her. In a few moments he returned, -and behind him came Eurydice from the garden of Death. The dank dew -hung heavy about her, and she walked with her eyes upon the ground, -while her long black hair hid the paleness of her face. Thus did she -come into the centre of the hall, and, not speaking or moving, Orpheus -gazed upon her till she raised her eyes and saw him. With a cry she -sprang towards him. - -"Orpheus!" she said. - -But, remembering the words of the king, he turned and fled before her -through the misty halls and out by the great gate, where Cerberus lay -tamed with his heads between his paws. And he tried to shut his ears -to her pleading as they sped across the plain, but every word that she -said cut his heart like a stab, and more than once he almost turned to -answer her, so piteous was her cry. - -"Oh, Orpheus, what have I done? Why dost thou flee from me? Oh, give -me one word, one look, to say thou lov'st me still." - -But he remained firm in his resolve, and sat himself in Charon's -boat, and steeled his heart, whilst she sat beside him, but could not -touch him. For he was a living soul, and she was a shade, and might -not touch him if she would. But still she pleaded with him. - -[Illustration: "Orpheus," she cried, in her despair, "thy hand."] - -"O Orpheus, my heart is starving for one look, one word. I know thou -lovest me, but oh! to see thine eyes tell me so and hear thy lips say -it." - -He longed to turn and clasp her in his arms, and tell her how he loved -her better than life. But still he refrained, and hugged his lyre -close to his breast in his agony; and as soon as the boat touched the -shore he leapt out and hastened up the steep, dark path, whilst the -sweat stood out in drops upon his brow, so hard was the way and so -stifling the air. Behind him followed Eurydice, and if the way was -hard for him, for her it was ten times harder. She had no strength for -words, and only by her sobs did Orpheus know she was following still. -So they went on, till at length the air grew pure and fresh, and the -daylight shone before them at the mouth of the cave. With eager steps -Orpheus pressed forward, longing for the moment when he might clasp -his wife in his arms and speak to her once more. But as the way grew -easier for him, it grew harder for Eurydice; since no one may pass -from death to life without sore travail and pain. So she struggled and -stumbled after him, and her heart gave way within her as she felt she -could follow no farther. - -"Orpheus!" she cried in her despair, "thy hand." - -Ere reason could restrain him, his heart had answered her sudden cry, -and he turned and held out his arms to help her. All too late he knew -his folly. For even as he was about to hold her she slipped away, and -as smoke is borne away on the wings of the wind, so was she borne -away, helpless and lifeless, to the realms of the dead, and her voice -floated back like the echo of a dream, - -"Farewell, Orpheus. Alas! Alas! farewell!" - -So for the second time did he lose Eurydice; and if his grief was -great before, it was ten times greater now. For as the cup of joy had -touched his lips it had slipped from his hand and broken, and he knew -that the chance the gods had given him once they would give him never -again, but that all his life long he must dwell in loneliness without -Eurydice his wife. Blindly he went forward with his lyre beneath his -arm. The strings hung broken and lifeless, for the rocks and thorns -had torn them as he passed on his way up from Hades. But he heeded not -nor made any effort to mend them, for the strings of his heart hung -broken too, and the music in his soul was dead. In black despair he -wandered on, and the sunshine to his eyes was darkness, and the fair -forms of earth were sadder than the phantoms of Hades had seemed to -him while hope still beat in his breast. As a colt that has wandered -far by unknown paths returns at last surely to his homestead, so did -his feet carry him back to Pelion and the dear home of his boyhood. -Not till he stood in the path which led up to the cave did he know -where he had come; but when he saw the mouth of the cave before him -his eyes were opened once more, and a faint joy stole into his heart -as he went on and sat down on a stone outside. All was silent and -deserted, and he sat for awhile alone with his own sad thoughts, till -he felt a touch upon his shoulder, and looked up into the face of -Cheiron standing beside him. - -"O my master!" he cried. - -"My son, thou hast suffered," said Cheiron. - -"I have been down into Hades, Cheiron," he answered. - -"My child," said Cheiron, "I know it all." - -He gazed upon him, his great mild eyes full of pity, and Orpheus gazed -back at him, and knew that he understood, though how he had learnt his -tale he could not tell. His heart drew comfort from the sympathy that -understood without words, and was softened as the parched earth is -softened by rain, so that he took Cheiron's hands between his, and -bowed his head upon them, and wept. - -Thus it came to pass that he returned to his boyhood's home, and dwelt -once more with Cheiron and his lads beneath the shade of snow-capped -Pelion. In time the bitterness of his grief was purged away, and he -remembered Eurydice as something bright and fair that had been woven -into the web of his life while yet it was young, and which could never -be taken away. As he listened again to the old songs which Cheiron had -sung to him and his comrades when they were lads, the fire and the -eagerness of his youth were born once more within him. When he saw the -elder ones go forth into the world and little lads brought up to take -their place with Cheiron, he felt how life stands ever beckoning and -calling to those in whose veins the blood of gods and heroes runs, and -they go forth to rule and to serve, to fight and to labour, in answer -to the call which the foolish do not hear. So one morning he took his -lyre, which for many a long day had lain silent, and putting fresh -strings for the ones that were broken, he passed his fingers lovingly -over them as of old. And the spirit of music sprang to life once more -in his heart, as the flowers spring to life when the winter is past, -so that once again he could charm every living thing by the magic of -his song. - -When Cheiron knew that his power had come back to him he was glad. - -"Orpheus," he said, "thou hast conquered. A weaker man than thou art -would have lain crushed beneath the foot of adversity. But those who -bravely rise again are stronger than before." - -"Master," he said, "when I saw the broken strings of my lyre and felt -my voice choked within me, I said, 'With the breaking of this string -the music dies and becomes a voiceless echo of the past, just as now -Eurydice is a shade in the shadowy land while her body is dust upon -earth,' and lo! ere the strings were mended or the voice grew strong -again, the soul of song lived once more in my heart, as on the day -when first my mother Calliope breathed her spirit upon me. If music -may live without sound or words, may not the soul live too without -bones and flesh? This is a mystery, and I must seek the wide world for -an answer." - -And Cheiron smiled upon him. - -"It is good to seek," said he, "though thou find no answer in the -end." - -"Yet will I find an answer," said Orpheus. - -So when the call of Jason came soon after, for him to sail with the -heroes in the good ship _Argo_ for the finding of the Golden Fleece, -and to be their minstrel on the stormy seas, he went down right gladly -to Iolchos. At the sound of his song the gallant ship leapt over the -stones and into the sea like a charger ready for battle, though before -she had been too heavy to move. So he sailed with the heroes on their -perilous venture, filling their hearts with courage and hope, and took -them safely through many a danger by the magic of his song. But though -many had set out, there were few that returned, and he saw the wreck -of many a promising life on that terrible voyage, but found no answer -to his quest. He bowed his head in reverence to the memory of those -who, for the sake of adventure and honour and a noble name, had poured -forth their lives like water on a thirsty soil, knowing full well when -they set forth that the danger would be for all, but the prize and the -dear home-coming for few. - -So, as soon as might be, he set forth again to wander the wide world -alone with his lyre. Some say he went to Egypt, others say to Crete, -but wherever he went he found at last the answer to his quest. For he -found the great god Dionysos, the god of many names--Bromios, Bacchos, -Zagreus--who fills men's minds with inspiration and divine madness, so -that they become one with him and with the life that lives for ever -behind the forms of things that die. He ate of the flesh of the mystic -bull, which is the god himself, and to the sound of his lyre the -Mænads danced over the mountains and through untrodden woods, and held -to their breasts young lions, and cubs of the untamed wolf. Far away -from towns and cities, where custom and language raise barriers -between man and man, on the breast of the untouched earth they danced -their mystic dance, and became one with Bacchos and with all things -that have life in the present, or have lived in the past. There -Orpheus found Eurydice again in the communion of soul with soul, and -learnt what she had meant when she said, "Some day our love shall -prevail, never again to be conquered." So it came to pass that he -became the priest of Bacchos, the mystic god, who is one with Life and -Love. And he wrote upon tablets the rule of life, by which, through -purity and initiation, men may become one with the god, and when they -have been purified by birth and re-birth in many diverse forms, they -may win, because they are one with him, the immortal life that -changeth not, like the life of the stars in heaven. - -The tale goes of Orpheus that at last he came to Thrace and the wild -mountain lands that lie to the north of Greece. There he tamed the -fierce hill tribes with the magic of his song, and lived a life of -abstinence and purity and ecstasy of the soul. But the followers of -Dionysos who dwelt in those parts looked on him askance; for whereas -they worshipped the god with shedding of blood and rending of goats, -in the madness that is born of wine, the ecstasy of his worship was -born of music and beauty, and he would have no part nor lot in their -wild revels. And because there is no hate that is greater than the -hate of those who worship one god in divers way, there came a day when -the mad frenzy of the Mænads was turned against Orpheus himself. As he -sat looking forth on the sunrise and singing as he touched his lyre, -the raving band came up behind him, full of madness and of wine. And -they tore him limb from limb in their frenzy, as they had torn the -wild goats before, and cast his head into the Hebrus, thinking to -silence his singing for ever. But his head floated on the waves of -the eddying stream, fair and fresh as in life, singing as it floated -its magic enchanting song. Gently the river bore it along and down to -the sea, and the blue sea waves kissed it and passed it from one to -the other, till at last they cast it up, still singing, on the shores -of the Lesbian Isle. There the Muses came and buried it, and made of -its tomb a sacred shrine, where, for many a long year, men came from -far and wide to worship and consult the oracle. About that shrine the -nightingales sang more sweetly than in any other spot on earth, for -they learnt their song from the lips of Orpheus himself. And men bound -themselves in a holy brotherhood which they called by his name, and -lived by the rules he had written on his tablets. Some of those who -pretended to follow him were charlatans and rogues, and brought -dishonour and ridicule upon his name, while others kept the letter -without the spirit of his law; but among them were those of a pure -and blameless life, who kept his doctrines, and handed them down -from generation to generation, till in time they became the -foundation-stones of the great philosophies of Pythagoras and Plato. - -Thus did Orpheus live and die, and pointed out to men the path to -immortality by purity and abstinence and ecstasy of the soul. There -were many of old who hated his doctrine, and many who hate it now; -and, indeed, it is not one by which every man can live. But there are -those to whom it brings peace and joy, though they call it by other -names than his; and these are the Bacchoi, the initiated, who have -seen the inward light, and their souls are at peace. - - - - -The Flight of Arethusa - - -Many, many hundred years ago a small band of colonists set sail from -Corinth to found for themselves a new home and a new city in the -far-away west. With a song upon their lips, the sailors bent to their -oars. - -"Heave ho! Heave ho!" they sang, "for the three-cornered isle of the -west! Heave ho! for the fountain that fails not, and the whispering -willow-trees! Heave ho! for the waters that are wedded with the waters -of our own native land!" - -Then, as the breeze filled their sails, they pulled in their oars, and -looked back for the last time at the home they were leaving for ever. -Proudly between two seas did the rock of Corinth raise her head, -encircled with a diadem of walls and towers. With tears in their eyes -they watched her sink, and soon all around them was nothing but the -waste of the grey sea waves. Thus did they leave the old land for the -new with joy and sorrow, hope and fear in their hearts, and sailed -away to the west, to the land of their dreams, the three-cornered isle -of which the oracle had spoken. For when Archias, their leader, had -consulted the priestess at Delphi, she had answered, - -"To Trinacria the god bids thee go, the three-cornered isle of the -west. There on Ortygia, the sacred islet, shalt thou build thee a -home, by the side of the fountain that fails not, Arethusa, whose -waters are wedded with the waters of thine own native land." - -So, in obedience to her words, Archias set sail with his little band. -And they found Ortygia and the spring Arethusa in the shade of the -whispering willows. There they planted the seed of that city, which -grew to be the greatest in all Sicily and the mistress of the -Mediterranean--Syracuse, proud Corinth's prouder daughter. For her -sake many a battle has been fought and many a weary war been waged; -for through long centuries men knew that whoever held the keys of -Syracuse held the keys of power in their hands. - -But what did the priestess mean when she bade Archias go to the isle -whose waters were wedded with the waters of his own native land? And -how came it that when he and his band reached Sicily they found there -the flowers and the fruit of the home they had left, and streams that -ran in and out of the limestone rocks like the streams of the -Peloponnese? I will tell you. - -Arethusa, around whose spring in Ortygia the whispering willows bent, -was once a nymph, who dwelt in the Arcadian woodlands and followed -Artemis the maiden huntress, over hill and over dale. Artemis loved -her above all the other nymphs who were her handmaids, and as a sign -of her favour she would let her carry her bow and her quiver full of -darts. On many a hot summer's day did Arethusa and her companions -bathe with their mistress in the cool deep mountain pools. Above their -heads the great oaks of the forest spread their branches, and the -grass beneath their feet was fresh and green. So long as they stayed -by the side of their mistress the nymphs were safe from harm, for no -god or goddess in all the land was so powerful as Artemis, and she -knew how to protect her own. - -So it came to pass that, because Arethusa had never known what fear -was, she grew to think that there was no such thing, and one day she -left her mistress and her comrades, and wandered forth alone through -the woods. Her heart was gay and light, and she sang as she went. In -the gloom of the forest she was like a ray of the sun, and on the bare -hill-sides she was like a sparkling stream that leaves green grass and -flowers wherever it passes. But she thought nothing of her beauty, nor -feared any harm because of it. As soon would lily cease from growing, -because it feared to be plucked for the sake of its fair sweet flower. -So she wandered on happy and light-hearted on that bright summer's -day. - -At last she came to a broad river that barred her path. High up above -her head the water fell leaping and roaring down the face of the -rocks, while below the swift current hurried along through swirling -eddies and foam. When she saw that she could go no farther, she sat -down on a rock by the edge of a stream, and let the cool water play -over her feet; then she bent down to fill her hand and drink. As she -did so her heart stopped beating, and her limbs grew stiff and numb, -and for the first time in her life she knew what fear was. For out of -the waters before her there rose up what seemed a great billow of foam -and spray, which stretched out a long arm towards her, and from the -tips of five great fingers the drops fell cold upon her shoulders. -With a cry, she drew herself together, and turned and fled; but she -had seen the form of the river-god grow clear in the billow, with the -water flowing down from his damp hair and beard, and the flash of his -eyes like the flash of lightning in the midst of the foam. It was -Alpheus, the king of all the rivers of Peloponnese. He had seen -Arethusa alone on the bank, and for love of her beauty he had risen -from the depths of the stream and stretched out his arms to gather her -to himself, and draw her down beneath the waves, to live with him and -be his for ever. But she had been too quick for him, and now she fled -before him as a deer flees before the hounds, whilst the fear that had -numbed her at first now lent wings to her feet. Over hill and over -dale she fled, swift as the rushing wind. Her bright locks flew out -behind her, and as she leapt from rock to rock her white robes gleamed -like the gleam of sunlit waters. Close behind her came Alpheus. The -deafening roar of his flood sounded like thunder in her ears, and his -misty breath blew cold upon her cheek. On and on she fled, with the -swiftness and strength of despair, till at last she could go no -farther; for before her stretched the blue waste of the cruel Ionian, -and the spray of the waves stung her face, while behind her the floods -of Alpheus rushed thundering down. Then she stretched forth her hands, -and cried out to the Maid of the Sea, - -"O Dictynna, Dictynna, have mercy! In the name of great Artemis, whom -thou lovest as I do, help me now." - -The Maid of the Sea heard her cry, and wrapped her about in a mist, -and her body and her limbs were unloosed and melted away, till she -became a spring of fresh, pure water that bubbled and danced over the -stones of the shore, and dived at last into the waves of the sea. But -behind her the flood of Alpheus still rushed leaping and foaming. He -had followed her over mountain and valley, and he followed her now -through the ocean. Down through the white waves they dived into the -depths of the sea, and passed like silvery currents of light through -the green sleeping waters, on and on, through forests of seaweed, and -over shell-strewn rocks, till they were stopped at last in their -flight by the roots of the three-cornered isle. There, through the -fissures and clefts, they forced their way up once more to the -sunlight, and side by side they leapt down from the rocks and the -crags--down towards the sea once again. But Arethusa fled no longer in -terror, and her fear of Alpheus was gone; for he pursued her no more -in a thundering, boisterous flood. Now he held out his strong white -arms, and called to her gently and low--as gently as the waves call in -summer as they dance to the shore. - -"Arethusa, Arethusa, I love thee. Come, join thy waters with mine." - -But she leapt away from him with a happy, mischievous laugh, and -tossed back the spray from her hair, so that it fell on his cheek like -a shower of kisses. Thus she leapt laughing, down over the rocks and -crags towards the sea, knowing full well that he played with her, and -that any moment he could make her his own. At last, as she hovered for -a moment on the brink of the cliff, he caught her in his strong -white arms, and together they dived once more into the salt sea waves, -so that their waters were mingled, and for evermore they were one. And -Arethusa showed her bright head again in the spring beneath the -willows of Ortygia, which is called by her name to this day. From the -time of her flight that spring never failed or grew dry, for from the -snows of the mountains Alpheus flowed always to meet her, bringing -coolness and plenty to the waters he loved. Men said, moreover, that -if a cup were put into the stream of Alpheus in the Peloponnese it -would find its way at last to the spring in Ortygia--which showed that -the waters of Arethusa and Alpheus were wedded and blended together, -so that they lived apart no more. - -[Illustration: On and on she fled with the swiftness and strength of -despair.] - -And that was the reason why Archias found in Sicily the flowers and -the fruit of the land he had left; for Alpheus had borne their seeds -in his stream from Peloponnese, and scattered them right and left as -he sprang through the rocks, that the winds of heaven might sow them -where they willed. To this day you will find in Sicily the olive and -the vine, and the blushing flower of the almond, and the narcissus -with its crown of gold, as you find them in Peloponnese; for is not -the water that feeds their meadows one stream that joins two lands? -And on the first coins of Syracuse you will find the head of the nymph -Arethusa, with the fish swimming round about; for was it not by the -side of her spring that the first stones of the city were laid, on the -sacred isle of Ortygia, round which the sea-fish swam? - -Thus did Arethusa flee in terror from Alpheus, to be wedded to him at -last in a land across the sea. - - - - -The Winning of Atalanta - - -Once upon a time there ruled in Arcadian Tegea a proud-hearted king -named Schoenus. A tamer of horses was he, and a man mighty in the -hunt and in battle. Above every other thing he loved danger and sport -and all kinds of manly exercise. Indeed, these things were the passion -of his life, and he despised all womenkind because they could take no -part nor lot in them. And he wedded Clymene, a fair princess of a -royal house, because he wished to raise up noble sons in his halls, -who should ride and hunt with him, and carry on his name when he was -dead. On his wedding-day he swore a great oath, and called upon all -the gods to witness it. - -"Never," he swore in his pride, "shall a maid child live in my halls. -If a maid is born to me, she shall die ere her eyes see the light, and -the honour of my house shall rest upon my sons alone." - -When a man swears an oath in his pride, he repents full oft in -humility, and so it fell out now. For many a long year no child was -born to him, and when at last he had hopes of an heir, the babe that -was born was a maid. When he saw the child his heart was cut in two, -and the pride of a father and the pride of his oath did battle within -him for victory. The pride of his oath conquered, for he was afraid to -break his word in the face of all his people. He hardened his heart, -though he had held the babe in his arms, and its little hand with a -birthmark above the wrist had closed about his finger trustfully, and -gave orders that the child should be cast out upon the mountains to -die of hunger and cold. So the babe was given to a servant, who bore -it forth and left it on the slope of bleak Parthenius. But Fate made a -mock of Schoenus, of his pride and of his oath, for no other child, -either man or maid, was born to him in his halls. All too late he -repented of his folly, when he saw his hearth desolate and no children -round his board, and knew that not only his name, but his race, was -like to die with him, because of the rash oath which he had sworn. - -Yet there was one who had pity on the babe, and whose heart was kinder -than the heart of its own sire. When Artemis, the maiden goddess, saw -the child cast forth to die, she was filled with anger against -Schoenus, and swore that it should live. For it was a fair child, -and a maid after her own heart, and no young life ever called to her -in vain for mercy. Wherefore she sent a she-bear to the place where -the child lay, and softened the heart of the beast, so that she lifted -it gently in her mouth and bore it to the cave where her own cubs lay -hid. There she suckled it with her own young ones, and tended it -night and day, till it grew strong and could walk, and the cave rang -with its laughter as it played and gambolled with the young bears. -When Artemis knew that the child was old enough to live without its -foster-mother, she sent her nymphs to fetch it away, and when they -bore it to her she was well pleased to find it fair and strong. - -"Her name shall be Atalanta," she said to them. "She shall dwell on -the mountains and in the woods of Arcadia, and be one of my band with -you. A mighty huntress shall she be, and the swiftest of all mortals -upon earth; and in time she shall return to her own folk and bring joy -and sorrow to their hearts." - -Thus it came to pass that Atalanta lived with the nymphs in the -woodlands of Arcadia. They taught her to run and to hunt, and to shoot -with bow and arrows, till soon the day came when she could do these -things as well as any of their band. For the blood of her father ran -hot in her veins; and not more easily does a young bird learn to fly -than Atalanta learnt to love all manner of sport. So she came to -womanhood in the heart of the hills, and as her form grew in height -and strength, it grew too in beauty and grace. The light of the -sunbeam lay hid in her hair, and the blue of the sky in her eyes, and -all the rivers of Arcadia bathed her limbs and made them fresh and -white. But she thought little of her beauty, or the power it might -have over the hearts of men, for all her delight was in the hunt, and -to follow Artemis, her mistress, over hill and over dale. Artemis -loved her, and delighted to do her honour; and when the land of -Calydon cried to her for mercy, because of the boar she had sent to -ravage it in her wrath, she decreed that none but Atalanta should have -the glory of that hunt. The tale of how she came to Calydon, and of -how the boar was slain at last through her, I have told you before; -and of how death came to Meleager, because he loved her, and would not -let any man insult her while he stood idly by. By the fame of that -hunt her name was carried far and wide through Hellas, so that when -she came to the funeral games of Pelias there was no need to ask who -she was. She ran in the foot race against the swiftest in the land, -and won the prize so easily that when she reached the goal the first -man had scarce passed the turning-point, though he was no sluggard to -make a mock of. When the games were over, she went back to Arcadia -without a tear or a sigh, but her face and her memory lived in the -heart of many a man whose very name she had not known; and when -presently the news went abroad that she would wed the man who could -win her, they flocked from far and wide, because they loved her better -than life; for they knew that the unsuccessful went forth to certain -death. - -The tale of how Atalanta went back to her own folk, and of how she was -wooed and won, is as follows: - -One day, when King Schoenus held a great hunt in the forest on the -edge of his domain, it chanced that Atalanta had come to those parts; -and when she heard the blare of the bugles and the barking of the -hounds, her heart leapt with joy. As a dog, when he hears the voice of -his master, pricks up his ears and runs swiftly to meet him, so did -Atalanta run swiftly through the woods when she heard the sound of the -bugles. Full often had she joined in a hunt on the uplands of -Arcadia, and run with the hounds; and when the hunt was over she had -fled back into the forest, away from those who had been fain for her -to stay. For she loved the hunt, but not the hunters; but, because she -was a mortal and born of a mortal race, she did not flee from their -eyes, as the wood-nymphs fled, but hunted with them for joy of the -hunt, and left them when it pleased her. So now she joined in the -chase as the stag broke loose from cover, and her white feet flashed -in the sunlight as she followed the hounds across the open moorland. -King Schoenus, when he saw her, was glad. - -"It is Atalanta, the maiden huntress," he cried. "See that she be -treated with due courtesy, for she is the only woman on earth who is -fit to look a man in the face." - -And he rode eagerly after her. But the best horse in all that company -was no match for Atalanta. Far ahead of them all she shot, like an -arrow from the bow, and when at last the stag turned at bay in a pool, -she was the first to reach him. When the rest had come up, and the -huntsman had slain the stag, the king turned to her. - -"Atalanta," he said, "the trophy of this chase is thine, and my -huntsman shall bear the head of the stag whithersoever thou shalt bid -him. In token of our esteem, I beg thee to accept this ring. When thou -lookest upon it, think kindly of an old man whose heart is lonely, and -who would fain have a daughter like thee." - -As he spoke he drew off a gold ring from his finger and held it -towards her; the tears stood in his eyes and his hand shook as he -looked on her fair young form, and remembered the babe he had cast out -on the mountains to die. If she had lived she would have been of an -age with Atalanta, and perchance as fair and as strong as she; and his -heart was bitter against himself for the folly of his oath. - -When Atalanta heard his words, she had a mind at first to refuse his -gift. Many a man before had offered her gifts, and she had refused -them every one; for she had no wish to be beholden to any man. But -when she saw the eyes of the old king dim with tears, and how his hand -shook as he held out the ring, her heart was softened, and yearned -with a strange yearning towards him. Coming forward, she knelt at his -feet and took the ring, and held his hand and kissed it. - -"May the gods grant the prayer of thy heart, sire," she said, "and -give thee a daughter like unto me, but fairer and more wise than I!" - -As he looked down on the hand that held his own the old king trembled -more violently than before, for above the wrist was a birthmark like -the birthmark above the wrist of the babe he had cast forth to die. -And he knew that he made no mistake, for that mark had lived in his -mind as though it had been branded with red-hot steel. - -"Atalanta," he said, "the gods have heard thy prayer. This is not the -first time thy fingers have closed about mine." - -"What meanest thou, sire?" she asked. - -"As many years ago as the span of thy young life," he said, "I held in -my arms a new-born babe, the child that the gods had given me, and its -little hand with a birthmark above the wrist closed about my finger -trustfully. But because of my foolish pride I hardened my heart. I -cast away the gift of the gods and sent the child to die upon the -mountains. But the birthmark on its wrist was branded on my brain so -that I could not forget it. Never till this day have I seen that mark -again, and now I see it on thy wrist, my child." - -He bowed his head as he spoke, and the tears from his eyes fell upon -her hand, which lay in his as she knelt before him. - -"Oh, my father!" she cried, and bent forward and kissed his hand. - -When he found that she did not turn from him, though she knew what he -had done, he was more deeply moved than before. - -"Atalanta," he said, "when I cast thee forth to die, I gave back to -the gods the life they had given me, and now I have no right to claim -it again. Yet would thy presence be as sunshine in my halls if thou -wert to come back to me, my child." - -Thus did the call come to Atalanta to return to her own folk, and the -choice lay before her. On the one side was her free life in the -forest, with Artemis and her nymphs, the hunt, the fresh air, and all -the things that she loved; on the other was life within the walls of a -city, and the need to bow her head to the customs and the ways of men. -Her heart misgave her when she thought of it. - -"My lord," she said, "will a young lion step into the cage of his own -free will, think you?" - -The old king bowed his head at her words. - -"Alas! what other answer could I look for?" he said. "I thank the gods -that they have shown me thy fair face this day. Perchance, when we -hunt again in these parts, thou wilt join us for love of the chase. -Till then, my child, farewell." - -[Illustration: "Oh, my father!" she cried] - -With trembling hands he raised her from her knees, and kissed her on -the forehead. Then he signed to his men to lead forward his horse, and -mounted and rode sadly home through the forest with his company. And -Atalanta shaded her eyes and stood watching them till they disappeared -from sight. When they had gone, she sighed, and turned and went upon -her way. But her eyes were blind and her ears were deaf to the sights -and sounds she loved so well, and that night she tossed restlessly -upon her couch of moss. For before her eyes was the figure of an old -man bowed with sorrow, and in her ear his voice pleaded, trembling -with longing and love. - -"Thy presence would be as sunshine in my halls if thou wert to come -back to me, my child." - -In the early dawn she rose up from her couch, and bathed in a stream -close by, and gathered up her shining hair in a coil about her head. -Then she put on her sandals and a fresh white tunic, slung her quiver -about her shoulders, and bow in hand went forth through the forest. -Looking neither to the right nor to the left, she went on her way till -she came to the white road that led to the city. Then she turned and -looked back at the forest. - -"Dear trees and woods," she said, "farewell, and ye nymphs that dwell -in the streams and dance on the green sward of the mountains. When I -have trodden the white road and gone up to the city, I can live with -you no more. As for thee, great Artemis, who saved me in the -beginning, I will be thy servant for ever, and dwell a maiden all my -days, and a lover of the hunt." - -She leant her head against a tree close by, and the tears stood in her -eyes. It seemed that the breeze bore her words on its wings, for she -heard a sigh from the forest, and the waters cried out to her, -"Atalanta, come back, come back!" - -But she closed her ears, and stepped out bravely on the white highway, -and went up into the city. The people as they saw her pass marvelled -greatly at her beauty, and whispered one to the other, "Surely it is -Atalanta, the king's daughter. What doth she here?" - -For the tale of how King Schoenus had found his child, and of how -she had refused to come home with him, had spread like wildfire -through the city; so that when they saw her, they knew full well who -she must be. She took no heed of them at all, but went straight -forward on her way till she came to the gate of the palace. The gate -stood open, and without knocking or calling she passed in, and went -across the echoing court and beneath the portico into the great hall, -as one who comes by right. When she had entered the hall, she stopped -and looked about her. At first all seemed silent and deserted, for the -folk had gone their several ways for the work of the day; but at -length she spied an old man sitting on a carved chair in one of the -alcoves between the pillars. It was the king, her father. He sat with -his head upon his hand and his eyes downcast upon the floor, and his -face was sad and full of longing, as of one who dreams sweet dreams -which he knows will not come true. Gently she drew near to him, and -thanked the gods who had timed her coming so that she should find him -alone. And she went and knelt at his feet. The old man gazed for a -moment in her face, as though he did not see her; then he started from -his chair and laid his hand upon her shoulder. - -"Atalanta!" he cried. - -"My father," she said, "I have come back to thee." - -Then he gathered her up in his arms. - -"Oh, my child, my child!" he said. "The gods are kind beyond my -desert." - -"Thy voice cried out to me in the night-time," she said, "and I could -not shut my heart to thy pleading. The call of the free earth was -strong, but the call of my blood was stronger." - -Thus did Atalanta come back to her own folk, and bring joy to the -heart of her father and the mother who had never held her in her arms. -A great feast was held in the palace in her honour, and through all -the city the people rejoiced because of her. For she was a fair -princess of whom any land might be proud, and her fame had spread -through the length and breadth of Hellas. Indeed, as soon as it was -known who she was, and how she had left the mountains to come and live -with her own kin, suitors flocked from far and wide to seek her hand -in marriage. But she treated them one and all with scorn, and vowed -that she would never wed. At first her father smiled upon her, and -looked on her refusal to wed as the sign of a noble nature, that was -not to be won for the asking of the first chance-comers. So he -gathered about him the noblest princes in the land in the hope that -among them all there would be one who could win her heart. But the -months passed by, and still she vowed that she would never wed. All -her delight was in running and hunting, and to ride by her father's -side. As for the young princes, she liked them full well for -companions in sport, but as soon as they spoke of love and marriage -she would turn her back upon them. At length the king grew anxious. - -"Surely, my child," he said, "among all these princes there is one -whom thou couldst love?" - -"I shall never love any man but thee, my father," she replied. - -"Yet all the hope of our race lies upon thee, Atalanta," he said. "If -thou wilt not wed, our race will die." - -"Our race died on the day on which thou didst cast me forth on the -mountains," she answered. "If I have lived, it is no thanks to thee or -to any of my people, but my life is hers who saved me on that day." - -"What meanest thou?" said the king. - -"When I left the forest and came back to thee I vowed a vow to -Artemis, who saved me in the beginning. I said, 'I will be thy servant -for ever, and dwell a maiden all my days and a lover of the hunt.' My -life belongs to her, and not to my race, not to any son of man." - -"We vow rash vows in ignorance, Atalanta," said the king, as he -remembered the oath he had sworn on his wedding-day, "and Fate makes a -mock of us, and turns our nay to yea." - -But Atalanta laughed at his words. - -"When Fate mocks at me," she said, "it will be time enough for me to -wed and turn my nay to yea." - -Nothing that he could say would persuade her to go back from her -resolve. But still he reasoned with her night and day, till at length -she grew so wearied of the matter that she bethought of a plan that -would rid her of all her suitors. - -"My father," she said, "I will wed any man who shall ask for my hand, -if he will fulfil one condition." - -"My child," cried her father, "I knew that in the end thou wouldst -listen to reason. Tell me thy condition, that I may spread it abroad -among those who are suing for thy hand." - -"Tell them," she said, "that I will wed the first man among them who -will run a race with me. If he win, I will be his bride, but if he -lose, he must die." - -The king's face fell when he heard her words. - -"Surely thou speakest in mockery, Atalanta," he said. "No man in all -the world can run as swiftly as thou canst, and they know it. Thou -wilt drive thy suitors from thee; or if any be foolhardy enough to run -with thee, they will run to a certain death." - -"No man will run to a certain death, my father," she answered. "When -they know that to sigh for me is to sigh for death, they will go back -to their own folk, and I shall be troubled with suitors no more." - -Herein she spoke in ignorance, and knew not the fatal power of her -beauty upon the hearts of men. And her father sighed at her words. Yet -he thought within himself, - -"Perchance there is more in her words than meets the ear. The deep -sea is easier to fathom than the mind of a woman. Either there is one -among her suitors whom she favours above the rest, and she will see to -it that he is the first to run with her, and will bridle her speed and -let him win; or else, Heaven knows, some god has put this whim in her -heart, and will send a champion we know not, who can run faster than -the fastest, and he will outspeed her and make her his bride. She will -never let men die because of her." - -But herein he too thought in ignorance, and knew not how his own pride -and stubbornness lived again in Atalanta, so that she would abide by -her word, though it brought grief to herself and death to others. So -he published abroad among the suitors the condition she had made. When -they heard it there was great consternation among them, and they -consulted together as to what they should do, and some sent a -deputation to her to find out the meaning of her words. - -"Lady," they asked, "when thou speakest of death thou speakest -perchance in parables. Those who run in the race with thee and are -outstripped must give up all hope of thee, and look upon thy face no -more. And this would be death indeed to them that love thee." - -But she laughed in their faces. - -"If you would hear parables," she said, "go to the oracle at Delphi. I -am no raving priestess to utter words that walk two ways at once. He -who courts death may race with me at daybreak, and at sunset he shall -drink the poison-cup without fail, and look neither on my face again -nor the face of any living thing. Have I spoken plainly now?" - -The next day there was great confusion in the halls of King -Schoenus. There was shouting and bustling, and attendants ran this -way and that. Chariots clattered through the gateway and drew up in -the court, and baggage was piled high behind the horses. And Atalanta -laughed aloud at the success of her scheme; for suitor after suitor -came and kissed her hand and bade her farewell. They loved her much, -but they loved life better, and were content to go home and find mates -who, though less fair, were less ferocious, and were like to look upon -their lords with eyes more lowly and obedient than Atalanta. - -That night the gathering about the board was scantier than it had been -for many a long day. Yet a few of the suitors remained, and seemed in -no haste to be gone. Day after day passed by, and each night Atalanta -said within herself, - -"To-morrow they will surely go. They dwell in distant towns, and they -are waiting for a favourable day for their journey." - -But favourable days came and went, and still they stayed in the halls -of King Schoenus. At last Atalanta could hide the dread in her heart -no longer. - -"How long will it be, my father," she asked, "ere we are troubled no -more with strangers in our halls?" - -"If thou wilt wed one of them, we shall be troubled with the rest no -more," he replied. - -"They know full well I can wed no man of them, because of the -condition I have made," she said. - -"They are waiting for thee to fulfil thy condition," said the king. - -Then Atalanta herself went and pleaded with them, - -"My friends," she said, "I pray you to be guided by me. The gods have -not fashioned me after the manner of womenkind, and I cannot give -myself nor my love to any man. Look upon me as one of yourselves, I -pray you, and think not to win me in marriage." - -But they replied, "Lady, thou hast given the condition of thy -marrying, and we are waiting to fulfil it." - -"But my condition means certain death," she cried. - -"Nothing in this life is certain," they said, "save death in the end. -If it come soon or late, what matter? For thy sake we are willing to -face it now." - -Thus was she forced to keep her word, and the lists were made ready -for the race, and the lots were cast among the suitors as to which of -them should be the first to run against her. In the early morning, -before the sun was strong, the race was run, and all the city crowded -to the course to watch it. The man ran well and bravely, but his speed -was as child's play to Atalanta. She put forth her strength like a -greyhound that is content to run for a while before the horses, but -when he scents a hare, can leave them far behind. Even so did Atalanta -run, and came in cool and fresh at the goal, whilst her rival ran in -hot and panting behind her. - -Thus did it come to pass that the first man drank the poison-cup -because of his love for Atalanta. With a smiling face did he drink it, -as a man drinks at a feast. - -"Farewell, lady," he said; "grieve not for me. With open eyes I chose -my fate. I ran for the sake of love and beauty, and I have won death. -Such is ever the lot of the nameless many. They fight for the glory -of the man whose name shall live. Good luck to my rival!" - -And now a time of darkness and mourning fell upon the land, and many a -day in the year the city was hung with black for the sake of some -noble suitor who had chosen death rather than life without Atalanta. -And Atalanta's heart was sore within her, because of the rash -condition she had made in her ignorance. When she would fain have -recalled her words it was too late, for the suitors bound her to her -promise. - -"Either give thyself of thine own free will to one of us, or else let -us take our chance of winning thee or death," they said. - -And so she was forced to run with them. For in her heart she knew that -even death was happier for a man than to win her without her love. - -Thus were the words of Artemis fulfilled when she said, "In time she -shall return to her own folk, and bring joy and sorrow to their -hearts." - -One day it chanced that a stranger came to the city on a morning that -a race was to be run. The night before he had slept in a village near -by, and the people had told him the tale of Atalanta, and how on the -morrow another suitor was to run to his death. But he scoffed at their -words. - -"No man would run to certain death," he said, "were the maid as fair -as Aphrodite." - -"Go and see for thyself," they replied. "Soon we shall hear that thou -too wilt run in the race." - -"Never," he said; "no woman can cheat my life from me." - -But they shook their heads unconvinced. - -"Many before thee have spoken likewise," said they, "and yet they have -run." - -"If I run, I will run to win," he answered. - -"Can a snail outstrip a deer?" they asked. - -"It might so chance," said he. - -"Thou art mad," they cried. - -"Better to be mad on earth than sane in Hades," he replied. - -But they shook their heads the more, and tapped wisely with their -fingers on their foreheads, to show that he was mad and spoke at -random. - -"Well, well," he said, with a laugh, "we shall see what we shall see." - -The next morning he set forth early for the city, and, mingling with -the crowd, he made his way to the racecourse, and found for himself a -place where he could watch the whole sight with ease. The race was -run, and ended as it always ended; and once again the city was hung -with black. But in the mind of the stranger an image remained which -had not been there before--the image of a maid whose white feet -flashed in the sunlight and her tunic swung to and fro as a flag -swings in the breeze. - -"Great Heracles!" he thought within himself, "to run shoulder to -shoulder with her for a moment, even in a race for death, might be -worth the while after all. I will make myself known at the palace, and -see what the gods will give me." - -For some days he lay hid in the city, till he thought the time was -ripe for him to go up to the palace of the king. Then he went for a -walk along the highway, and when he was covered with dust and grime, -he returned to the city and made his way at once to the palace. At the -door of the gateway he knocked, and the old porter came out to ask his -will. - -"I am come from a distant land," he said, "and to-morrow I would -journey yet further on my way. I pray thee to crave hospitality for -one night for me from the steward of this house, whoe'er he be. I am a -king's son, and worthy to sit at any man's table." - -The porter cast a doubtful eye on the travel-worn clothes of the -stranger. It seemed unlikely that a king's son would go on a distant -journey with no body-servant and no horse or baggage. Then he looked -in his clear blue eyes, which gazed back at him as innocent as a -child's, and he saw that for all his sorry raiment he was by no means -ill-favoured, but held himself well and proudly. So he opened the door -and led him across the court. - -"Well, well," he muttered in his beard, "great folk have strange whims -in these days. Our king must needs slay his daughter, because she is a -maid, and she must needs slay her suitors, because they are men. After -that this fellow may well be, as he says, a king's son, who, because -he has a palace and plenty, must needs tramp over the face of the -earth and beg his bread. Praise be to the gods who put lowly blood in -my veins and sense in my head, else had it been better for the gate to -keep itself than to have me for a guardian." - -Then he cast another look over his shoulder at the young man behind. - -"At any rate, for one night he can do no harm," he muttered. - -"What didst thou say, father?" asked the stranger. - -"I said that for one night thou couldst do no harm," replied the old -man. - -"On the contrary," said the stranger with a laugh, "in one night I -hope to do more good to this house than thou hast done in all thy -life." - -"The young have ever a good conceit of themselves," said the porter. -"Thou art not like to keep this gate, winter and summer, day and -night, for close on three-score years, as I have done, young man." - -"On the other hand," said the stranger, "thou art not like to marry -the king's daughter within the year, and have the city hung with red -instead of black in thine honour, as I am like to do." - -"Sir," said the old man, "I know my place too well----" - -"--and love thy life too much to aspire to the hand of the princess. -Is that not so?" - -"Mayhap," said the old man, and shut his mouth with a snap. To all -further remarks which the stranger made he answered with a grunt. He -took him into the palace and delivered him into the hands of the -steward. As he turned to go back to his post, the young man clapped -his hand upon his shoulder. - -"Good luck to thee and thy gate," he said. "When I come through with -the hand of the princess in mine, perchance thou wilt look upon me -with greater favour than now." - -"Be warned in time, young man," said the porter, "and tarry not over -long in this palace, but go forth on thy journey in the morning, as -thou hadst a mind to do in the beginning. Those who tarry too long are -apt to go through the gate with nought but a cake in their hand." - -This he said, meaning the cake which was put in the hands of the dead -for them to give to Cerberus, the watch-dog of Hades. - -"Fear not for that," said the stranger: "I had as lief go -empty-handed." - -Thereupon he turned to the steward, who welcomed him sadly to the -halls of King Schoenus. All strangers were looked upon askance in -those days, lest they came as suitors for the hand of Atalanta, and -wished to add to those who had run in the fatal race. When he heard -that the young man would depart on the morrow on his journey he was -glad, and gave him water to wash with and a change of raiment, and -showed him his place at the board, without so much as asking his name. -When Atalanta saw a stranger at the board her heart sank within her, -and she kept her eyes turned away, as though she had not seen him, for -she made sure that he too had come to run in the race with her. It -chanced that night that the company was scanty, and no man talked in -private to his neighbour, but the conversation leapt from one end of -the board to the other, as each one took his share in it and said his -say. The stranger, too, took his part with the rest of them, in nowise -abashed; and so shrewd were his words, and so full of wit, that soon -he had a smile upon the face of each one at the table. For many a long -day the talk had not been so merry nor the laughter so loud at the -table of King Schoenus. Atalanta, too, forgot her constraint, and -talked and laughed freely with the stranger; and he answered her back, -as though it had been man to man, and showed no more deference to her -than to the others of the company. - -When the meal was over, the king approached the stranger, and Atalanta -stood beside him. - -"Sir," said the king, "thy name and country are still hid from us, but -we are grateful for thy coming, and would be fain for thee to stay as -long as it shall please thee." - -"I thank thee, sire," said the stranger, "but I am bound by a strange -vow. I may not reveal my name, nor accept hospitality for more than -one night from any man, till I come to a house where none other than -the king's daughter shall promise me her hand in marriage. From the -tales I have heard in the neighbouring country, I have learnt that I -may not hope to end my vow beneath this roof--though indeed," he said, -turning to Atalanta, "I would fain press my suit if there were any -chance of success." - -But Atalanta threw back her head at his words. - -"Thou hast doubtless heard the condition," she said, "by the -fulfilment of which alone a man may win my hand." - -"Alas, sir!" said the king, "I would press no man to try his luck in -that venture." - -"Since that is so," said the stranger, "I will go forth once more upon -my journey at break of day, and see what luck the gods will give me. I -thank thee for thy kindly hospitality this night, and beg thee to -excuse me. I have travelled far, and would fain rest now, as I must go -a long distance ere I can rest again." - -Thereupon he took his leave of King Schoenus and his daughter. But -she, for all her pride, could not forget the man who seemed to bid her -farewell with so light a heart. He was well favoured, but it was not -because he was well favoured, or because he had a ready tongue, that -she thought on him. Indeed, when she asked herself why she should -remember one who by now had doubtless lost all memory of her, she -could find no answer. As she tossed on her couch with a troubled mind, -she determined that before he left the palace on the morrow she would -have some speech with him. - -"He thinks no more of me than of a stone upon the wayside," she said -within herself, "wherefore I can do him no wrong by letting him speak -with me again before he goes." - -It was her custom to rise early in the morning, before the rest of the -household was stirring, and to go forth alone into the woods; and it -was the lot of one of the slaves to rouse himself betimes to give her -food ere she went, so that when she appeared, as was her wont, he -thought nothing of it. The stranger had risen even earlier than she, -and the slave was waiting upon him. When Atalanta saw him, her heart -gave a sudden thrill, for she had not looked to see him so soon. - -"Good-morrow, sir," she said. "It is not often I have a companion when -I break my fast." - -Then she turned to the slave. - -"Thou mayest get thee back to thy bed," she said, "and sleep out thy -sleep in peace. I will see to the wants of our guest and speed him on -his way." - -The slave, nothing loth, departed. He was well used to strange -commands from his mistress; and, moreover, there was no need to invite -him twice to return to his couch. - -Thereupon Atalanta sat down at the board beside the stranger, and they -fell to with all the appetite of youth and health; and as they ate -they laughed and joked, and talked of strange lands they both had seen -and adventures that had befallen them. In the space of one half-hour -they were as good friends as though they had known each other all -their lives, and suitors who had sat at her father's board day after -day were much more strangers to Atalanta than this man, who had craved -but one night's hospitality. - -When they had finished their meal the stranger rose. - -"I must bid thee farewell, lady," he said. - -"Nay, not yet," she replied; "I will set thee on thy way, and show -thee a road through the forest that will bring thee to the city thou -seekest. I know every track and path as well as the wild deer know -them." - -He tried to dissuade her, but she would not listen, and led him out -from the palace by a side-gate, which she unbarred with her own hands. -Down through the sleeping streets they went, where the shadows of the -houses lay long upon the ground, and out across the open downs into -the shade of the forest. The dew gleamed like jewels on the leaves, as -here and there the slanting rays of the sun shone through the trees, -and above their heads the lark sang gaily in the bright summer sky. -Yet they walked silently side by side, as though, in spite of the -brightness of the day, sorrow and not joy were sitting in their -hearts; and all their gay talk and laughter of the early morning was -dead. At length they came to a broad track that crossed the path they -were in, and Atalanta stopped short and pointed to the right. - -"From here," she said, "thou canst not miss thy way. Follow the track -till it lead thee to the high-road, and when thou strikest the -high-road, turn to the left, and thou wilt come to the city thou -seekest." - -Then she held out her hand to him. - -"I must bid thee farewell," she said, "and good luck to the ending of -thy vow." - -"Lady," he said, and took her hand in his, "if thou wilt, thou canst -release me now from my vow." - -But she drew her hand away sharply and tossed back her head. - -"Many kings have daughters besides King Schoenus," she said, "and -any one of them could release thee from thy vow as well as I." - -"Atalanta," he said, "no king's daughter save thee shall ever release -me from my vow. That which all our laughter and our converse last -night and this morning strove to hide, our silence, as we walked side -by side, has revealed far better than I can tell thee. Thou knowest -that I love thee. From the first moment that I saw thee I have loved -thee." - -His words made her heart thrill with a strange joy. But she showed no -sign of it, and answered him coldly. She was proud and wished to test -him. - -"Doubtless the flood-gates of love are easily thrown open where a man -would be released from a vow. Thou knowest how thou mayest win me. Art -thou willing to run in the race?" - -At this all his mirth returned to him, and his eyes shone with -merriment as he answered: - -"Much good would my love do me if I had to drink the poison cup -perforce. Nay, nay," he said; "I love thee too well to put my death at -thy door. When I have some chance of winning the race, I will come -back and claim thee. In the meantime, lady, farewell." - -And, bowing to her, he turned and went his way, without so much as -looking back at her, as she stood trembling with astonishment and -anger. It was not thus her other lovers had spoken. When he had gone -from sight, she turned suddenly and went back by the path they had -come. Her hands were clenched, and the tears sprang unbidden to her -eyes, as she strode forward with long, angry strides that took no heed -of where they went. - -"He has made a mock of me!" she cried to herself--"he has made a mock -of me! He is a base adventurer who seeks release from his vow. He has -no heart and no honour. Fool that I was to treat him as a friend!" - -Thus did she stride along in her wrath, till it had cooled somewhat, -and she was able to think more calmly of the stranger. Then his form -came back to her mind, as he had looked when they stood face to face -at the parting of the ways, when the sun had glinted down upon them -through the trees, and he had looked her straight in the face with his -clear blue eyes, and said: "Thou knowest that I love thee. From the -first moment I saw thee I have loved thee." - -A great sob rose in her throat as she remembered. - -"Ah, he spoke the truth!" she said; "I know that he spoke the truth." - -Moreover, her heart told her that long before he had spoken the words -she had known that he loved her. Yet strange is the bond of love. Its -strands are certainty and doubt interwoven. Wherefore Atalanta, though -she had heard the words which were but the echo of the silent speech -of their hearts, had put him yet further to the test, and had driven -him from her side by asking of him a sacrifice she had no wish for him -to make. - -"If he would come back and run with me," she sighed, "my feet would be -as heavy as lead against him." - -But she sighed in vain. Day after day passed by, and he came not. - -"He is a man of his word," she thought at last. "Till he has some -chance of winning he will not come back. And he is no fool. He knows -he can never run as I can run. He will never come back." - -Yet for all this she watched for him night and day. When she went -forth into the road, or into the forest, she looked for his form at -every turn of the way. When she entered the great hall of the palace, -she looked to see his face at the board. But always she looked in -vain, and sometimes her heart grew bitter against him. - -"If he were to come now," she would say to herself, "I would show him -no mercy. He who takes so much thought before he will risk his life -for my sake is not worthy to win me." - -Then again she would grow tender, and stand looking down the path by -which he had gone, and sigh for him. - -"Oh, my love, come back, come back! My pride is melted away like the -snow, and without any race I will give myself to thee." - -Thus would she long for him, and grow near to hating him, because she -knew that she loved him. The weeks and months passed by, and still he -returned not; winter came and went, and once again the dewdrops shone -in the summer sunlight as Atalanta walked in the forest at break of -day. She walked with her eyes upon the ground, thinking of the summer -morning a long year ago when he had walked by her side in silence -along that very path. When by chance she raised her eyes, there, at -the parting of the ways, he stood, as though in answer to her -thoughts. With a cry she stopped short and gazed at him, and he came -forward and bowed to her. - -"I have come back, lady," he said. - -"Oh!" she cried from her heart, "I am glad thou hast come back." - -Then he bent and kissed her hand. So once more they walked in silence -side by side along the path they had walked before; and once again the -bond of love was knit strong between them, with its strands of -certainty and doubt. As they drew near to the edge of the forest, -Atalanta was the first to speak. - -"And thy vow," she asked--"hast thou found release from it?" - -"Not yet," he answered. "I am come back to run the race, that I may -win release." - -Once again the spirit of perversity came upon her. - -"Where hast thou learnt to run like the wind?" she asked. - -"I have not learnt to run like the wind," he replied. "I have learnt -something better than that." - -"Few things are better in a race than swiftness," she said. - -"True," he answered; "yet I have found the one thing better." - -"What is this strange thing?" she asked. - -"When we have run the race, thou wilt know," he said. - -"I have grown no sluggard," she said, with a toss of her head, as -though to warn him that her speed was not a thing to be despised. - -"That I can see," he said, as he cast a glance at her straight white -limbs and the easy grace of her bearing as she walked beside him. Then -they talked of indifferent matters, and each one knew that what they -had nearest their hearts they were hiding from each other. - -So they came to the palace, and from the lowest to the highest the -inmates greeted the stranger with joy. For he had won the hearts of -them all by his wit and his genial smile. But they sighed when they -heard that he too had come to run in the fatal race. - -"Alas!" said the old king, shaking his head, "I had rather not have -looked upon thy face again than see thee back on such an errand." - -The young man laughed. "He who runs with a fair hope of winning runs -swiftly," he said. "The others were dragged down by the shackels of -their own despair." - -"Thou dost not know my daughter," said the king. - -"Mayhap I know her better than thou thinkest, and better than thou -knowest her thyself," said the stranger. - -No arguments or entreaties would turn him from his purpose. - -"I must win release from my vow," he said. "I cannot live all my life -a nameless wanderer. Yet will I not wed any woman I love not, for the -sake of my release. Atalanta alone can save me, for I love none -other." - -So the lists once again were prepared, and the course made smooth for -the race. With trembling fingers Atalanta tied her girdle about her, -and bound her sandals to her feet. Though her heart was crying out for -the stranger to win, and praying that her feet might fail her at the -last, yet her pride, too, lifted up its head. - -"He makes so sure of winning," she thought, "he despises my swiftness. -He shall see that nothing he has learnt can teach him to run as I can -run. And yet--oh, cursed be the condition I thought so cunning in mine -ignorance! Oh, would that he could win me without first outspeeding -me!" - -Thus did her pride and her desire pull two ways at once. - -And now the folk were gathered together round the course, and Atalanta -and the stranger stood ready and waiting for the word to be given. She -had made it a condition of the race that her rivals should have a good -start of her, and she stood with her eyes upon the stranger's back, as -he waited many paces before her. All too soon the word was given, and -he sprang forward from his place, like a dog which has been straining -at his leash springs forward when the hook is unloosed. And Atlanta, -too, sprang forward; but whereas the man ran like a hunted thing that -strains every muscle to save its life, she ran with the swinging -grace of the wild deer that, far away from the hunters and hounds, -crosses the springing turf of the lonely moor, fearless and proud, as -he throws back his antlers in the breeze. Thus did Atalanta run, as -though she had no thought of the race, or of the man who ran for his -life. Yet, though she seemed to make no effort, she gained upon her -rival at every step, and now she was running close behind him, and now -she was almost shoulder to shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye -he could see the gleam of her tunic. Then for a moment he slackened -his pace, and it seemed that she would pass him, and on every side the -people shouted out to him, "Run, run! Faster, faster! She will pass -thee." - -[Illustration: Out of the corner of his eye he could see the gleam of -her tunic.] - -But he put his hand into the opening of his tunic, and drew forth -something from his breast. Then his hand swung up above his head, and -from it there flashed a dazzling fiery apple. Up and down through the -air it flashed like a meteor, and rolled along the grass, till it -stopped far away in the centre of the course, and lay shining like a -jewel in the rays of the sun. Every eye was turned from the race to -watch its gleaming flight, and Atalanta stopped short and watched it -too. When she saw it stop still in the middle of the course, flashing -and sparkling in the grass, a great desire sprang up in her heart to -have it--a mad, unreasoning desire that she could not resist. And she -darted aside out of the path of the race, and went and picked up the -shining golden apple and put it in the bosom of her tunic. Meanwhile -the stranger had lost no time, and when Atalanta came back to the spot -she had left, he was far ahead upon the course, and she had to run -with a will if she wished to overtake him. But once again she gained -upon him, and the space between them grew less and less, till they -were running wellnigh shoulder to shoulder. And once again he saw the -gleam of her tunic beside him; and again he slackened his speed for a -moment, and sent a second gleaming apple into the air. Once more the -mad, unreasoning desire sprang up in Atalanta's heart, and, leaving -the course, she picked up the second apple and put it in the bosom of -her tunic beside the first. By the time she had returned to the path -the stranger had rounded the turning-point, and was well on his way -towards the goal, and she put forth all her strength to overtake him. -But the ease of her running was gone. She ran as one who runs bearing -a burden, yet she would not cast away the golden apples in her bosom; -for though they hampered her, she gained upon her rival, and for the -third time they were running almost shoulder to shoulder. And again, -the third time, the same thing happened, and Atalanta left the course -to pick up the shining fruit. This time when she returned to her place -the stranger was close upon the goal, and all around the people were -shouting and waving their hands. Blindly she pulled herself together, -and with all the strength that was left in her she made a great spurt -to overtake him. If she would cast away the golden apples, she might -yet win the race; but the same mad desire which had spurred her to -pick them up forbad her now to let them go. As she ran they seemed to -grow heavier and heavier in her bosom; yet she struggled and panted -on, and step by step did she gain upon him, though her eyes were -darkened to all but his form and the goal ahead. On every side the -people shouted louder than before, for they knew not now which of them -would win. As they drew near to the goal they were again almost -shoulder to shoulder, and the stranger saw once more the flash of -Atalanta's tunic beside him, while there were yet some paces to run. -Then he gave a great spurt forward, and leapt away from her side. She -tried to do likewise, but her strength was gone. She had made her last -effort before. Thus did it come to pass that the stranger ran in first -to the goal, and, running close upon his heels, Atalanta fell -breathless into his arms as he turned to catch her. She had run twice -as far as he, but what matter if he had not outsped her? He had won -the race, and held the woman he loved in his arms. The tears shone in -her eyes, but he knew they were not tears of grief; and in the face of -all the people he kissed her. - -Thus was Atalanta, the swiftest of all mortals, beaten in the race by -the stranger, and learnt from his lips what it was that he had found -on his travels that had made speed of no avail in the race. - -For after they had come back to the city, surrounded by the joyous -folk, and had passed hand in hand beneath the gateway, and the -stranger had nodded with a smile at the old porter, who stood bowing -before them; after he had revealed to them all that he was Meilanion, -the son of Amphidamas, and the old king had fallen on his neck and -given him his blessing, because he proved to be the son of his own -boyhood's friend, and the man of all others he would have chosen for -his son-in-law--after all this, when the speeches and the merrymaking -were over, they two walked alone in the moonlit court of the palace. -At last Atalanta had decked herself in the long saffron robes of a -bride, and in her hands she bore the three shining apples. Meilanion's -arm was about her, as they walked for a while in silence, but at -length she spoke and held out the fruit in her hands. - -"Tell me their secret," she said. - -"Their secret lies in thy heart, Atalanta," he answered. - -"What meanest thou?" she asked. - -"I mean that if thou hadst not loved me, they would never have filled -thy soul with longing to have them, and thou wouldst never have turned -aside from the race." - -"And, knowing this, thou didst stake thy life on my love?" she said. - -"Knowing that, I staked my life on thy love," he answered. - -"Then that was the one thing better than speed in the race?" - -"Yes," he answered, "I learnt to trust in thy love." - -There was silence for a moment between them, and then again Atalanta -spoke. - -"And whence came the apples?" she asked him. - -"When I left thee at the parting of the ways," he said, "I travelled -many a weary league by land, and on the road I passed many a shrine of -Aphrodite. But I never passed them by without lifting up my hands in -prayer to the goddess, for I knew that she could help me if she would, -and I knew that to them that love truly she is ever kind in the end. -But I wandered till I was footsore and weary, and yet I had no sign. -At length I came to the seashore, and took ship for the pleasant isle -of Cyprus, which is her own dear home. There at last she came to me, -walking on the waves of the sea, As I lay on the shore in the -night-time, I saw her as a great light afar, and she drew near to me -with the foam playing white about her feet. In her hand she bore three -shining golden apples. And she came and stood beside me, and I hid my -eyes at the sight of her beauty. But she spoke to me in a voice that -was soft and kind, and the melody of it touched my heart like the -melody of music. - -"'Fear not, Meilanion,' she said; 'I have heard the cry of thy heart. -Here are three apples from mine own apple-tree. If she whom thou -lovest loves thee in return, she cannot resist the spell of their -golden brightness. When thou runnest against her, cast them one by one -into the middle of the course. If she love thee she will turn aside to -pick them up. For her they will be heavy as the gold they seem made -of. For thee they will be light as the fruit whose form they wear. -Farewell, and good luck to thy race.' - -"Thereupon darkness came over my eyes, and I could find no words to -thank her. When I awoke I thought it had been a dream, but lo! by my -side upon the sand lay the apples, shining in the sunlight." - -"And thy vow?" asked Atalanta. "How camest thou to make such a vow?" - -He laughed at her words. - -"When a hare is hunted," he said, "thou knowest how he will double and -turn, and take a line he has no mind to pursue to the end. So was it -with me. Long ago in my father's house I heard of thee and of thy -beauty, and how thou couldst cast such a spell upon the hearts of men -that for thy sake they would fling away their lives. And a great -desire came upon me to see this thing for myself, for I could scarce -believe it. So I set forth alone to find thee, and hid my name from -all men as I journeyed, for thus could I be more free to act as seemed -best in mine own eyes. And I saw thee run in a race, and that glimpse -was enough to tell me that I too one day must run with thee. Yet was I -more wary than my rivals. I knew that to come as a suitor was the way -to turn thy heart to stone. Wherefore I pretended to be bound by a -vow, which would bring me as a passing stranger before thee. Canst -thou forgive the lie?" - -She smiled into his face. - -"It was a daring venture," she said. - -"I knew I was as one who treads unknown paths on a moonless night," he -answered. "Yet deep in my heart I felt that when a man desires one -thing on earth above every other--when he loves that thing better than -life itself, he is like to win it in the end, if he walk patiently -step by step in faith. He will win that thing, or death in his -struggle for it; and he is content that so it should be." - -Such was the winning of Atalanta. As for the golden apples, she placed -them in a precious casket, and guarded them jealously all her days, -for a memorial of the race that she had failed to win. - - - - -Paris and OEnone - - -When Peleus the mortal married silver-footed Thetis, the fair nymph of -the sea, great was the rejoicing among gods and men; for Peleus was a -brave warrior and a mighty man, and well deserved to have for wife a -child of the Immortals. To his marriage-feast he bade all the gods and -goddesses, and they left their seats on calm Olympus, and came down to -Pelion where he dwelt, a band of shining ones, to do honour to the -mortal whom they loved. One alone of them all he had not asked--Eris, -the black-browed Goddess of Strife, for at his wedding-feast he wished -to have happiness and joy, and no dark looks to mar the gladness of -his board. But he looked to find shame in the heart of one who knew -not shame. As it was, she came unasked, and great was the sorrow that -her coming brought, both to him and to his wife and all the fair land -of Hellas. For she sowed the seed of discord which blossomed to the -blood-red flower of war, in which the mightiest and the best of two -great nations fell through ten long years of strife, and among them -was Achilles, the swiftest and bravest of mortal men, the son whom -Thetis bore to Peleus to be a comfort to him in his old age, and to -succeed him when he died. But as it was, Achilles died in battle far -from his native land, in the prime and flower of his manhood. - -Now the manner in which Eris wreaked her vengeance was in this wise. - -When the marriage-feast was drawing to its close, and the gladdening -wine had unlocked the lips and opened the hearts of the revellers, -above all the din and clatter there rang through the hall a harsh, -discordant laugh like the rattle of thunder before a storm. A dead -silence fell upon them all, and every eye was turned towards the place -from whence that fearful laugh had come. In the shade of the doorway -stood a tall gaunt figure wrapped all about in black. Above her head -she held a blood-red torch that flickered madly in the breeze, and -cast upon her face the shadow of her wild elf-locks. Her cheeks were -pale as ashes and her lips were thin and blue, but her eyes shone -bright as red-hot coals. When she saw the hall silent and trembling -before her, she laughed aloud once more and waved the torch above her. - -"Ha! ha!" she cried. "You give me a cold welcome, my masters. But I am -kinder than you. I give, and take nothing in return. See here, I bring -a seasoning to your feast, and much joy may you have of it." - -Thereupon she drew from her bosom an apple all of gold, and hurled it -in their faces on the board. It rolled along the table like a ball of -light, and stopped in the centre before Peleus, the king of the feast. -The eyes of all the guests followed it full of amazement and delight, -for it was wondrous fair to look upon. - -"I see you like my gift," cried Eris. "Let her keep it who deserves it -best. Farewell. I stay not where I came unbidden." - -Then she turned upon her heel, and strode away into the blackness of -the night. - -When she had gone, Peleus put forth his hand and took the apple. It -was all of pure gold, the outermost parts of white gold pale as straw, -and the cheeks of red gold bright as poppies, and across it was -written in shining letters, "For the Fairest." - -As Peleus read the words aloud he looked slowly round the board. - -"O lady goddesses," he asked, "to which of you shall I give it?" - -Thereupon arose a strife of tongues, and all the harmony and -good-fellowship of the feast was gone, for one said one thing and one -another, and each one in her heart wished to have it for her own. But -the claim of three stood out above that of all the rest. - -"I am the Queen of Heaven," said Hera, "and the mother of gods and -man. The apple is mine by right." - -"I am the giver of knowledge and wisdom," said Pallas Athene, "and -through me all things are perfected, and the wrong is put to right. -The apple should be mine." - -"I am the Goddess of Love," said Aphrodite, "I am life itself. My -claim is the best of all." - -As Peleus looked on them he knew not to which of them he should give -it, for each in turn seemed fairest. And he was wily withal, and knew -he could not give it to one without angering the other two against -him. So he said, - -"O lady goddesses, who am I that I should judge between you? Choose -you your own judge from among the sons of men, and he shall give the -apple to her he deems the fairest." - -Then they consulted together, and chose Paris, the son of Priam, King -of Troy; for he was the fairest of all mortal men, and would know how -to judge between them. And they left the halls of Peleus with a smile -upon their lips, but in their hearts was envy and hatred where there -had once been sympathy and love; for the apple of discord had -fulfilled the purpose of her who gave it. - -Now Paris was the second son of Priam and Hecuba, and brother of -Hector, the pride of Troy. The night before he was born his mother -dreamed a dreadful dream--that she had given birth to a firebrand -which set all Troy aflame. In terror she sent for her child Cassandra, -the priestess of Apollo, whose word came always true. And she told her -dream, and asked what it could mean. Then Apollo raised from -Cassandra's eyes the veil that hides the future, and she told her -mother the meaning of that dream. - -"In mine ears," she cried, "there sounds the din of battle and the -clash of arms. I see round Troy the foe-men's tents, and their ships -drawn up upon the shore. I see Scamander's stream run red with blood. -Through the desolate streets slinks one whose manhood has departed, -and who shuns the eyes of his fellow-men, for he prized a woman's arms -above his country's honour. That man is the son that thou shalt bear, -and he shall be the curse of Troy." - -When Priam the king heard these words his heart was filled with anger. - -"No son of mine," he cried, "shall bring shame and destruction on my -city. When the child is born he shall be cast out upon the mountains -to die ere his eyes can see the light." - -So, notwithstanding his mother's entreaties, as soon as the child was -born he was given to Agelaus the herdsman to cast out upon the hills. -And he took him up to Gargarus, the topmost peak of Ida, and there he -left him to die of cold and hunger, or to be torn in pieces by the -beasts of prey. - -But when the Fates have spoken, their word shall surely come to pass, -whatever man may do. And so it fell out now. A she-bear, whose cubs -the hunters had killed, found the child, and for five days and five -nights she suckled him, and kept him safe and warm. On the sixth day -Agelaus passed that way once more, looking to find the child dead, if -any trace of him remained. But lo! nestled in the moss and fallen -leaves, the babe lay sweetly sleeping. Then he marvelled greatly in -his heart. - -"Surely," he thought, "this can be no common babe, and it is the will -of Heaven that he should live." - -So he picked him up in his arms, and carried him home to his wife, for -long had they prayed the gods in vain for children. And they brought -him up as their own son, and called his name Paris. As soon as he -could walk, he would go out with his foster-father on the mountains, -and keep watch over the flocks and herds, and he grew to be a tall and -comely lad. For he breathed the pure sweet air of heaven, and bathed -in Ida's rippling streams. Nor did he lack courage and strength -withal. If ever a mountain lion, made bold by hunger, came down upon -the flocks and carried off a sheep or a goat, whilst the herdsmen fled -in terror for their lives, he would up and fight him single-handed -with his knife and his shepherd's staff, and it was not the lion that -came off best in that fight. So famous did he become for his strength -and prowess that all about the countryside men called him Alexander, -defender of men. - -Now it came to pass one summer's day that he had walked for many a -long mile across the treeless downs, and at length he turned, hot and -thirsty, into the shade of the forest. Soon he came upon a mountain -stream that danced foaming over the stones, and he drank of its waters -gladly, and bathed in a clear brown pool; then, tired out, he cast -himself upon the bank and fell asleep. - -When he awoke, the trunks of the pine-trees stood out purple against -the sunset, and the evening light cast over all things a glamour of -mystery. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must still be dreaming; for -out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a maiden -clad all in misty white. Her hair was like fallen beech-leaves when -the sun shines on them through the trees, and her eyes were like the -changing river that reflects the light of heaven. She stood before him -motionless, and gazed down upon him where he lay. - -"O most wonderful," he whispered, "who art thou?" - -"I am OEnone," she answered, and her voice was like the music of the -brook--"OEnone, the daughter of Cebren, the river god, whose stream -runs dancing at your feet from the side of wooded Ida. O fairest of -mortals, I am lonely in these mountain glades; let me watch thy flocks -with thee." - -Then she came towards him with both her hands outstretched. And -Paris took her cool white hands in his. Fair as the crescent moon, she -bent over him and raised him from his knees, and they looked deep into -each other's eyes and loved, as the young and pure alone can love. -From that day forth they watched his flocks together on the wooded -slopes, and wandered hand in hand through the forests and across the -smooth green lawns of Ida. - -[Illustration: Out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form -of a maiden clad all in misty white.] - -Meanwhile, since the day when Priam had given his child to be exposed -upon the mountains, many a circling year had passed, and the day drew -near on which, if his son had lived, he would have held great games -and feasted in honour of his reaching years of manhood. And Priam's -heart within him smote him when he thought of the innocent babe, and -he cast about in his mind how he yet might do him honour. - -"Perchance I acted hastily," he thought, "and by care and good example -my son might after all have been a blessing to his city and to me. But -the dead are dead, and I cannot call him back to life. Yet will I -honour him as best I may, that in the world below they may know he is -a king's son and not utterly forgotten." - -So he ordered great funeral games to be held in honour of his son, who -had died without a name upon the mountains. Far and wide throughout -the land the tidings went, and the lists were made ready, and rich -prizes brought together for the victors. Among them was to be a bull, -the strongest and finest from all the herds of Priam. The herdsmen -drove down their finest cattle to the city for the king himself to -chose, and he choose out a mighty beast which Agelaus had bred and -reared. Now it chanced that this bull was the favourite of Paris out -of all the cattle under his charge, and he loved him as some men love -a dog. When he heard that Agelaus had given him to be a prize in the -games, he waxed exceeding wrath. - -"If he is to be any man's prize," he cried, "I shall be that man." - -But Agelaus laughed at him. - -"Who art thou," he said, "a foundling and a shepherd's foster-son, to -enter in the lists against the sons of kings?" - -"Sons of kings or sons of crows, I care not," he answered. "My arms -are as strong and my feet are as swift as theirs any day. I shall -enter for the lists." - -The old man chuckled at his words, for he loved the lad, and was proud -of his strength and beauty. - -"The gods be praised!" he muttered. "The mountain air has not dulled -his spirit, nor dried up the royal blood in his veins." - -But OEnone was sad when she heard of his resolve. - -"Ah, Paris," she begged, "as thou lovest me, leave me not to enter for -these games." - -"But I will come back to thee, beloved. What difference can it make?" -he asked. - -"In my heart pale fear is sitting," she replied. "I know that if thou -goest, it will be the beginning of woes for thee, and for me, and for -all thy native land." - -"Nay, thou art over fearful. Thou shalt see, I will come back with my -bull, and thou and I will be happy together, as we have always been." - -"Paris," she said, "that I know will never be, if once thou joinest in -the games. I can see but dimly into the future, but this much at least -I know: that if thou goest, war shall beat about the walls of Troy -like a wave of the sea, and from the midst of the battle I see thee -earned forth wounded unto death. Ah, Paris, leave the bull for a -weaker man, and go not down!" - -"Nay, I cannot hearken to such foolishness. What war can come if I go -to Troy for the sake of a bull?" - -"The cause of the war I know not, but come it surely will. O Paris, in -that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy hurt! I know the -use of herbs, for many a strange charm has my father taught me, and if -any life is left in thee, I will call it back. But best of all, stay -with me now, and go not down to the games." - -And, weeping, she threw her arms about his neck; but nothing she could -say would stop him. - -So when the day came he went down into the city, and entered for the -lists with the flower of the land, and all the folk marvelled who he -might be. For he was tall and exceeding fair, and they had never seen -his face before. When the turn came for his match, he set his teeth -and wrestled like a young lion, for the bull that was the pride of his -flock; and the strength of his adversaries was turned to weakness. -With joy in his heart, he came forward to take his prize; and a loud -cheer rose to heaven, for the people were glad that he had won. And -the king's heart went out to him as he gave the prize, for he was the -age his son would have been had he lived. - -"Young man," he said, "who art thou, and who is thy father?" - -"I am Paris, the foster-son of Agelaus the herdsman," he answered. - -"Is thine own sire dead, then?" asked Priam. - -"O king, thou askest me riddles I cannot answer," said Paris, "seeing -I know not even who mine own sire may be." - -"This is a strange matter," said the king, and in spite of himself his -heart beat fast within him. - -Now Cassandra the prophetess, his daughter, was standing by his side, -and the time had come for her to speak. - -"O king," she said, "thou hast not far to seek for the father of this -lad." - -"What meanest thou?" said Priam. - -"Put thy hands upon the lad's shoulders, and look into his eyes, and -thou shalt see the image of his father," she answered. - -Trembling between hope and fear, the old king bent forward from his -seat and put his hands upon the young man's shoulders. - -"Can it be--can it really be my son?" he asked. - -"Thy son he is," replied Cassandra, "and no other man's. The Fates -decreed that he should live, and he has lived." - -"My son, my son!" cried the king, and fell upon his neck. "How I have -longed for thee, and my soul has been weighed down with the burden of -thy death! Now in mine old age the gods have given thee back to me, -and my heart is glad. For thou art brave and fair, my son, and any -father would be proud of thee, nor fear that ever thou shouldst bring -dishonour on the land." - -Once again the old man fell upon his neck and kissed him; and Hecuba, -his mother, held him in her arms, and wept tears of joy over the -child she had given up for dead. His brothers and his sisters crowded -round, and all the people; and some raised him on their shoulders, and -with songs and shouts of joy they took him to the palace of Priam. -There they clothed him in rich raiment, as befitted a king's son, and -held a great feast in his honour; for every man was glad that one so -fair and noble had been spared to bring honour to the land of Troy. -Cassandra alone sat silent amidst the revelry, for her heart was cut -in two. When she looked upon her brother's fair young face, she was -glad that he had lived; yet ever before her eyes there floated the -vision she had seen the night before he was born--a vision of war, -unmanliness and death--and she knew that vision would come true. When -she thought of it she shuddered and almost wished him dead, and in her -heart she cursed that fatal gift of prophecy which brought her nought -but grief. Verily in her case knowledge was not a thing of joy. - -When the guests had departed, the old king took his son aside. - -"I have set a place apart for thee, my son," he said, "and from this -day forth thou must live with thy kinsfolk in the palace." - -"I will live with thee right gladly, my father," he answered, "but my -days I will spend upon the mountains as of yore, and keep watch over -thy flocks and herds. For I love the beasts and the mountain air, and -methinks in a city I should pine for want of my old free life." - -The form of OEnone rose up before his eyes; but that he hid from his -father. - -"Thou mayest live as best pleases thee, my son," said Priam, "and I -will give thee many goodly flocks and herds of cattle for thine own." - -So it came to pass that, though Paris was a prince and son of the King -of Troy, there was small change in his manner of life, save that now -he lived in his father's palace instead of the herdsman's hut. For in -those days it was thought no shame even for a prince to be a shepherd, -and keep watch over his own flocks and herds. - -It was soon after this that the strife arose among the goddesses about -the apple that Eris had cast in their midst at the marriage-feast of -Peleus. And Zeus sent down Iris, the swift-footed messenger of Heaven, -to tell Paris of the charge that was laid on him, and to bear him the -golden apple. Down the path of the rainbow she sped, the road whereby -she always went to and fro betwixt gods and men. Her shining robes -flew out behind her, and the wings upon her feet and shoulders glanced -like lightning in the sky. At early dawn, while the dew lay bright -upon the ground, she came and stood in the path as Paris was driving -his flocks to pasture. In one hand she held the staff that Zeus had -given her, to show she was the messenger of Heaven, and in the other -she held the golden apple. - -"O fairest of mortals," she said, "I have been sent to thee by Zeus, -who rules on high. In heaven there is war between the three great -goddesses as to which of them shall have the prize for beauty, this -apple thou seest in mine hand. And they have appointed thee to be the -judge between them. Hold thyself ready, then, for this day at noon -they will come to thee here on the lonely heights of Ida." - -She spoke, and threw the apple to him, and he caught it deftly, as a -player catches a ball. And wind-footed Iris sped back by the rainbow -path as swift as she had come. - -"This is passing strange," thought Paris, as he gazed at the apple in -his hand, and read the words inscribed upon it--"For the Fairest." -There it lay, smooth and shining, a sure token that he had not been -dreaming. So he took it and showed it to OEnone, and told her what -Iris, the messenger of the gods, had said to him. When OEnone heard -it she was filled with fear. - -"Cast it at their feet, Paris, when they come to thee," she begged, -"and say thou canst not set thyself up to be a judge of the -Immortals." - -"Nay, that would anger them against me," he said; for in his heart he -was proud to have been chosen out of all the sons of men. - -"I tell thee it will bring thee trouble if thou doest it, and to me -sorrow unspeakable," said she. - -"Did the winning of the bull bring sorrow either to thee or to me?" he -asked scornfully. - -OEnone was silent under his rebuke, though she knew her foreboding -would come true. When the sun was almost high in the heavens, she came -to him softly where he lay on the grass and kissed his hand. - -"Zeus grant thee wisdom in thy judgment, Paris," she said, and glided -away swiftly through the trees, that he might not see the tears in her -eyes. - -Then his heart smote him for his scornful words, and he rose up -hastily from the ground and called to her, - -"OEnone, OEnone!" - -But she answered him not, and when he looked for her among the trees, -he could find no trace of her. Now it was close upon noon, and he -hastened back to the glade, where Iris had bidden him stay, and waited -for the coming of the goddesses. In the clear bright light of noontide -they came and stood before him in the shade of the forest trees; and -he fell on his knees before them, filled with wonder and awe, and cast -his eyes upon the ground, for he was afraid to look upon such majesty -and beauty. Thereupon they drew near to him and bade him not be -afraid, but rise and give his judgment. So he rose from his knees and -looked upon them; and minute after minute passed, while still he -gazed, for he could not make up his mind, so passing fair was each. - -"Ah, lady goddesses," he said at last, "take the apple and divide it -into three, for I cannot say who is the fairest among you." - -"Nay, that may not be," they said; "thou must give it to one, and one -alone." - -As he still hesitated, Hera spoke. - -"Look well upon me, Paris," she said. "I am the Queen of Heaven, and -wife of Zeus almighty, and all power and might is in my hands. I can -give thee kingship and sovereignty, and dominion over many peoples. -See to it that my might is for thee, and not against." - -As she spoke his heart turned cold with fear, and from terror he would -have given her the apple. But as he was about to stretch forth his -hand, Pallas Athene spoke. - -"O Paris, what is power without wisdom? Purple and gold, and to sit -where others kneel--all these things make not a king. But to walk by -the light of knowledge where others grope in darkness--this can make -a slave a ruler of kings. This can I give thee." - -Then the voice of reason within him prompted him to give the apple to -her; but once again he was withheld, as Aphrodite spoke. - -"Power and wisdom, Paris? What are these but empty words at which men -vainly grasp? I can give thee that which all men covet--the fairest of -women for thine own." - -The music of her voice made the blood rush like fire through his -veins, and his heart was melted within him. - -"O Aphrodite," he cried, and fell at her feet, "thou art fairest. -Beside love, what is power, what is wisdom? I give thee the apple, O -thou fairest among the fair!" - -As she stretched forth her hand towards him to take the apple, a mist -fell over his eyes, and he knew no more. When he awoke the apple and -the goddesses had vanished away, and OEnone was bending over him -weeping. - -"Alas," she said, "my father, whose stream runs at thy feet, has told -me thy choice, Paris, and I am come to bid thee farewell." - -"Farewell, OEnone? Why farewell?" he cried, and stretched out his -arms to her. The flame of Aphrodite still burned in his heart, and to -his eyes OEnone had never looked more fair than now. - -"Because of Aphrodite's promise," she answered. - -"Ah, OEnone!" he cried, and took her in his arms, "now I know what -that promise meant. Thou art the fairest of women, and thou art mine, -beloved, and Aphrodite's promise was fulfilled ere she made it." - -"Nay, nay, that is not what she meant. I may be fair, Paris, yet I am -no woman, but a child of the mountain waters. One day thou wilt forget -me, and thy heart will turn to thine own kind. In that day Aphrodite -has promised that the fairest of women shall be thine, and she will -surely keep her word." - -"Thou art woman enough for me," he said, "and I shall never want any -other than thee." He kissed her, and comforted her as best he could. -The hours fled by like minutes, the moon rose high in heaven, and one -by one the stars came out, yet still they sat and talked of love, and -of how they would be faithful to each other always. In like manner day -after day passed by, and no two lovers in all the land were happier -than Paris and OEnone. - -Now it chanced that about this time Menelaus, King of Sparta, came to -Troy, at the command of the oracle at Delphi. For a year past his land -had been laid waste by a grievous famine, and when he inquired the -cause of it, the oracle bade him go to Troy and offer sacrifices at -the tomb of Lycus and Chimæreus, the sons of Prometheus, for until -their spirits were appeased the land of Sparta would be barren, and -her sons would die of hunger in her streets. So Menelaus set sail for -Troy, and Priam and all his house received him with joy. They held -great feasts in his honour, and treated him hospitably, as befitted -the king of a mighty people. When he had performed his task, and the -time had come for him to return, he said to Priam, - -"My friend, thou hast treated me right royally, and I in my turn would -fain do thee some service. Say, wilt thou not sail with me to Sparta, -and see my palace, which shineth as the sun for splendour, and Helen, -my wife, who is the fairest in a land where the women are fairer than -all other women?" - -But Priam shook his head. - -"I am an old man, Menelaus, and my travelling days are done. But if -thou wouldst truly do me a service, thou wilt take with thee my son -Paris as thy guest. He is of an age now to travel and see strange -lands, and I could not entrust him to better hands than thine. Say, -wilt thou take him or no?" - -"I will take him right gladly," answered Menelaus, "seeing that since -I cannot have thyself, no other man would please me so well as thy -son. Bid the young man be ready, and he shall sail with me and my -folk." - -When Paris heard the news, he was glad; for never in his life had he -set foot outside the land of Troy, and he longed to see the riches of -Menelaus and all the wonders of his palace in Sparta. Ere the sun had -risen he was in the woods of Ida telling OEnone of the voyage he -must take. - -"Nay, grieve not, beloved," he said, as she turned her face sadly -away; "for a few short months I must leave thee, but I will come back -to thee with many a long tale of the wonders I have seen. There is -nought like travel to make a man hold up his head among his fellows, -and the seeing of strange things that others have not seen." - -"There is nought like travel," she said, "to make a man forget his -home, and love the new things better than the old." - -"Dost thou think me so faithless, OEnone?" - -"Many men are faithful till they meet temptation," she replied. - -"Had I listened to thee, I should still have been a shepherd on the -mountains, knowing neither kith nor kin." - -"It would have been happier so," said she. - -"OEnone, I must not heed thy fears. Remember, I am a king's son, and -I must live my life as befits a man, and not be ever held back by a -woman's arms." - -"The gods grant thou mayest always think so, Paris. Fare thee well, -then; I will stay thee no longer, but I will watch for thy coming as -never woman watched before. If evil fortune befall thee, Paris, come -back to me, and I will save thee." - -So, with many a promise not to forget her, but to come back to her as -soon as might be, he left her and set sail with Menelaus. - -And they crossed the blue Ægæan and came to glorious Sparta, lying low -among the circling hills. And Menelaus made his guest welcome, and -showed him all the splendours of his palace, with its inlaid columns -and its frieze of gold and blue. His stable and horses did he show -him, and the stadium where the races were run and his treasure-house -beneath the ground. Last of all he took him to Helen, his wife. - -Now Helen, fairer than the sun in heaven, was sitting among her -maidens, and when her lord and Paris entered, she rose from her chair -and came forward with a smile to greet them. In the curve of her neck, -in the gleam of her hair, there was magic, and a witchery about her -face and form that no man could withstand; for she was the fairest of -all women under the sun, that ever had been or ever should be in time -to come. Many a man in his day loved Helen of Sparta, and many a man -did she love in return; for so the gods had made her, exceeding fair -and exceeding fickle, a joy and a curse among men. - -As Paris looked upon her, her beauty reached his heart like the fumes -of wine, and he forgot himself and his native land and OEnone; he -forgot all pride and manliness, and the ties of honour that bound him -to his host--all but his passion for Helen. Day and night he thought -of her and of her alone, and of how he might make her his own; and day -and night he plotted and planned, and at last he gained his end. For -Aphrodite, true to her word, helped him, as she alone could do, and -kindled in the heart of Helen an answering flame, making her for the -time being love Paris more than Menelaus, her lord, or any other man. -And she cast dust in the eyes of Menelaus, so that he saw not how the -two lived only for each other, nor suspected his guest of any -treachery. So one dark night they fled away together to Gythium, and -from thence they sailed to Cranaë, and were wedded, and had joy of -their love, forgetful of all else. - -OEnone, meanwhile, wandered lonely about the woods and groves of -Ida. With a heavy heart she had watched the ships of Menelaus sail -away, and now, day by day, she would go down to the shore and look out -across the sea towards Hellas. High up upon a rock she would sit and -sigh for him. - -"Ah, Paris, between thee and me lies many a weary league of barren -waters and many a misty mountain chain. But my heart is with thee in -that strange new land. Oh, Paris, forget me not, but come back to me -soon, beloved." - -Thus would she sigh day by day; but he came not. Month after month -passed by, and still he came not, nor any news of him, and his father -and all the city were troubled to know what might have befallen him. -So they manned a ship, and sent it out to Sparta to get news, and in -time it returned home to tell how Paris and Helen had fled from -Menelaus, and how Menelaus had set out in pursuit, and had followed -them to the land of Egypt. After that no man knew where they had gone, -or whether, perchance, Paris and Menelaus had met in deadly battle and -fallen each by the other's hand, or what might have chanced. All the -land was plunged in woe to think that Paris had so far forgotten his -honour as to steal away the wife of his host. But still they kept -watch by day and by night, in case he should come back and be -persuaded to give her up and make what amends he could. - -Paris, meanwhile, with Helen, had fled before Menelaus from Egypt, and -had taken refuge in Phoenicia; and when he traced them there, they -fled once more and took ship to return to Troy; for they could not -live for ever as wanderers on the face of the earth. With the silence -of shame the folk received them at the harbour, and amid silence, that -spoke more than words, they made their way through the city and came -and stood before Priam in his halls, with eyes downcast upon the -ground. Now Priam had heard of their coming, and had prepared in his -mind a wrathful speech wherewith to greet his son and the woman who -had led him astray. But when he looked upon Helen his wrath melted -away like frost before the sun; for she stood like a fair lily that -some careless hand has half plucked from its stem, so that its head -hangs drooping towards the dust. Even so did she stand, with the -tear-drops falling from her eyes. And all the wrathful words faded -from his mind, so that he spoke quite otherwise than he had planned. - -"My children," he said gently, "come hither to me." - -They came and knelt before him, and he laid his hands upon their young -shoulders, as they bowed their heads and wept upon his knees. - -"Ye have grievously sinned, my children," he said, "and ye are -learning, all too late, how bitter is the fruit of sin. There is but -one course before you. Paris, give back the woman thou hast stolen, -and make what honourable amends thou canst. And thou, Helen, go home -with thy lord when he comes for thee, and be a faithful wife to him -always, and make him forget that ever thou didst play him false." - -"O King," she said, "thou knowest not what thou askest. If thou givest -me up to Menelaus he will slay me, or else my life will be a dog's -life in his halls; for his heart is no softer than a flint, though his -tongue be smooth. O my father, cast me not out from thy halls. If I -have sinned in leaving Menelaus, shall I not sin again in leaving -Paris? Or shall my sin be less if I flee from the man I love, to go -with him I love not? Who maketh two hearts to cleave together? Who but -Aphrodite all-powerful? Must we set at nought the will of Heaven for -the sake of laws that man has made? O Priam, my father, forsake me -not, but keep me in thy halls." - -And she clasped her hands about his knees and looked up into his face. -Beneath her gaze all his resolve gave way, and he took her face -between his hands and kissed her. - -"My daughter," he said, "thou shalt stay with me as long as it shall -please thee." - -Thus did it come to pass that she made her home in Troy, and Priam, -the king, became an accomplice in her sin; for the gods had so made -her that the hearts of men were as wax between the fingers of Helen of -Sparta. - -In time came Menelaus, and stood in the halls of Priam, and demanded -back his wife. And they offered him a ransom--gold and precious -stones--but he flung it back in their faces. - -"Think you that gold can pay for a living soul?" he cried. "Only a -life can pay for a life, and many a life shall you pay for the sake of -Helen. Look to your battlements and towers, O Priam; they must be -strong indeed to stand against the host that I shall bring behind me -from Hellas. Farewell, till we meet again in battle." - -And he strode from the hall in anger, and sailed away to Sparta, to -rouse up all the heroes of Hellas to take part in his quarrel with -Troy. - -Meanwhile in Troyland the forge fires burnt night and day, and the -hammer rang loud upon the anvil. The red-hot iron was drawn from the -furnace and bound hissing about the chariot-wheel; shields were -stretched and swords were fashioned, and the ash-tree was felled upon -the mountain for the handle of the tapering spear. Among the men many -a heart beat high with hope; for what is there like war, if a man is -brave and strong, to bring him renown, and make his name live among -his fellows? But in the women's hall many a silent tear was shed; for -what is there like war to bring sorrow to a woman's heart, when she -sees her dear ones going forth to battle and knows not whether she -shall ever look on their faces again, or, perchance, see them carried -home with a gaping spear-wound in the side? And when the battle is -raging she can do nought but pray. So they cursed Helen and her beauty -in their hearts, and wished that even now King Priam would send her -back and stave off the war from Troy. - -But Paris and Helen cared for none of these things; while others -worked and wept, they dallied in each other's arms and forgot all -else, or hoped that when Menelaus reached home his anger would cool, -and that he would find the kings of Hellas none too willing to leave -their lands for the sake of another's wife. But in this they hoped in -vain, and reckoned not how dear a man may hold his country's honour. -For one dark night the hosts of Hellas pulled in to shore, and drew up -their boats upon the beach and pitched their camp, and when the -morning dawned their men were thick as flies about the walls of Troy. - -So did it come to pass that Cassandra's words came true, and for many -a weary year the tide of war surged about the city like a wave of the -sea, and Paris slunk through the streets like a beaten cur, not daring -to look his fellows in the face. For they hated him because he had -brought war upon his country, and yet, though the quarrel was of his -own making, he was ever the last to take the field and ever the first -to retreat. So low had his manhood sunk that he thought far more of -reaching Helen with an unbroken skin than of winning fame upon the -field of battle. - -But one day matters reached a pass when Menelaus met him face to face -upon the field, and challenged him to single combat beneath the walls -of Troy. He who should kill his man should have Helen for wife, and -the war should end, and no more lives be spent in vain for the sake of -a quarrel that concerned but two. But Paris thought of Helen waiting -in her chamber, and looked upon Menelaus, standing sword in hand -before him, strong as a lion in his wrath. Then his heart gave way -within him, and he turned and fled from the face of his foe back into -the ranks of the Trojans. He would have fled from the fight -altogether, but that in the path of his retreat stood Hector; the -nodding plumes waved terrible upon his helmet, and he leant on his -two-handed sword and frowned upon his brother, for he had seen how he -fled from Menelaus. When Paris saw him he fell back ashamed, but -Hector stood aside to let him pass. - -"Thou chicken-hearted mannikin," he cried, "get thee gone, and let -others fight thy battle, that the courage of the Trojans be not a -by-word among the nations." - -And Paris slunk past him with his eyes upon the ground, and went home -to Helen in her chamber. - -But when the fight was over Hector came and dragged him from his -hiding-place as a dog drags out a rat into the light. - -"Thou smooth-faced deceiver," he said, "is this the way a man should -fight when he has sailed across the high seas, and stolen away the -fairest of women from a man mighty in battle? Are we to make the name -of Troy a laughing-stock among our foes, and hang our heads in shame -when men shall say, 'In strength and might they are like the immortal -gods, these Trojans, but their courage is the courage of the deer, -that flees swiftly through the forest when he hears the bark of the -hounds? Thou coward, would thou hadst never been born, or hadst died -upon the mountains ere there was time to bring dishonour on thy -country." - -And Paris trembled before his brother's wrath, but some of his old -manhood returned to him. - -"Thou speakest as all men speak who know not Aphrodite's power," he -said. "Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, send forth a herald to -Menelaus, and tell him I accept his challenge, and will fight him for -the sake of Helen, his wife. And let the hosts of the Achæans and the -hosts of Troy lay down their arms, and we two will stand up alone -between them, and whichsoever of us shall fall in death, his side -shall give up Helen to the victor; and the war shall cease, and peace -be made between the nations." - -So Hector sent forth a herald to Menelaus, and the two hosts drew -close together on the plain till there was but a narrow space between -them, and they laid aside their arms, and some lay upon the ground or -sat, and others stood behind to watch the fight in the midst. And -Paris put on his shining armour and his helmet with the nodding -plumes, and went and stood face to face with Menelaus. In the sight of -all the people Hector prayed, - -"O Zeus, who rulest from on high, grant that he who is the offender -may fall in the fight, and his spirit flee away to Hades, that the -land may have peace and the people rest from war." - -And every man in his heart prayed likewise, for all were sickened at -the long years of fruitless strife. - -Then Hector shook the lots in his helmet, to see who should be the -first to hurl his brazen spear, and the lot of Paris fell forth upon -the ground. And he brandished his spear above his head, and hurled it -with all his might, and it crashed against the shield of Menelaus; but -the stout shield turned it aside, and it fell powerless upon the -ground. Thereupon Menelaus in his turn hurled his spear, and it -pierced through the shield of his foe, and would have brought black -death to his heart had he not swerved aside, so that the point but -grazed his corselet. But Menelaus, seeing his advantage, drew forth -his sword and rushed upon him, and felled him a mighty blow upon his -helmet, hoping to cleave it in two. But the sword shivered to pieces -in his hand as he struck. Then, with an oath, he cast aside the hilt -and leapt upon Paris, and seized him by the horsehair plume upon his -helmet, and dragged him down. And the leathern thong that held the -helmet was drawn tight about his throat, so that the breath was -wellnigh squeezed out of him, and Menelaus was bearing him in triumph -towards the Achæan host. But Aphrodite was mindful of her favourite, -and, ere it was too late, she made the stout ox-hide give way beneath -the weight of his body, and the helmet slipped off his head. Then she -wrapped a mist about his body, so that no man should see him, and bore -him away through the midst of the Trojan host, and laid him upon his -bed. In the likeness of an aged dame she went and stood beside Helen -on the battlements, where she leant with the other Trojan women -looking down upon the plain, and she told her how she had borne forth -Paris from the fight and saved him, and that now he lay upon his bed -and longed for her. So straightway Helen left the others, and went and -sat down by Paris. When she saw him lying there, without so much as -a scratch upon his body, she was ashamed for him, and began to upbraid -him. - -[Illustration: Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achaean -host.] - -"So thou hast come back from the battle, Paris, and couldst not endure -to stand up to god-like Menelaus. Would that he had taken thee, for he -is a better man than thou art! Go forth now, thou craven, and -challenge him once more to battle, and stay thy ground like a man. Lo! -thou art vanished away like smoke from the field, and both the hosts -are making mock of thee." - -Then her heart smote her for fear he should take her at her word and -go back, and she fell upon her knees beside him, and took his hand in -hers and wept. - -"Ah, Paris," she cried, "go not forth, I pray thee, but stay with me. -I, even I, do bid thee stay, lest thou fall by the hand of Menelaus, -and I be left all desolate without thee." - -"Ah, Helen," he said, "upbraid me not, for I love thee above all else. -Some other day I will return and fight with Menelaus, but now I will -stay with thee, and we will have joy of each other and forget all -else," - -So whilst Menelaus searched raging through all the host, like a lion -seeking for his prey, Paris and Helen dallied in each other's arms, -hidden from the eyes of men. An ill reckoning would it have been for -Paris had the men of Troy known where to find him, for they hated him -like black death, and would have given him up to the hands of -Menelaus, to do by him as he would. - -From that day forth Paris scarce dared to show his face among his -fellows; but when Hector urged him, and he could stand out against his -taunts no longer, he would go forth into the battle, but disguised as -a common soldier, with no mark upon him of his rank and birth. So did -he hope to escape death and flee home as swift as might be to the arms -of Helen. In this he succeeded full well for a time, but a day came -when no disguise could save him and he could not flee away. For in the -ranks against him stood mighty Philoctetes, with his bow and his -poisoned arrows. And he drew his bow and prayed to Zeus in his heart, - -"O Zeus almighty, that drivest the black thundercloud before thee, do -thou guide mine arrow aright, that it may work havoc among our foes -and bring glory to the host of the Achæans. In thy hands I leave it." - -Then he drew back the string, so that the mighty bow was wellnigh bent -in two, and the arrow sped with a whirr far over the foremost ranks of -the Trojans to the rear part of the host. And it fell upon Paris, and -pierced between the joints of his armour right through into his side. -With a groan he fell, and black night came over his eyes, and he lay -as one dead upon the field. When the fight was over, and either side -was gathering up the dead and wounded from the plain, they came upon -Paris among the rest; but till they had drawn off his helmet they knew -him not, for he was dressed as a common soldier. When they saw who it -was, they put him reverently on a bier apart, for he was a king's son, -and had been a brave man once, and death can wipe out many an old -score of bitterness and hatred. So they bore him upon their shoulders -silently to the palace of Priam his father, and laid him upon his -couch. And they brought him wine and cordials, for his heart beat -faintly still within his breast. For a moment he revived, and spoke in -broken whispers. - -"My friends, I am dying," he said, "and I would die in the pure free -air of heaven, away from cities and from men and from my shame. O my -father, bid them carry me forth upon Ida, and there let them leave me, -and return no more till they know the last breath must have gone from -my body. Then let them burn me there, where once I was brave and free; -and as the fire of my burning shall die out, so let my name die out -from among you--my name and my dishonour." - -So did he speak, and fell back exhausted, with the vision before his -eyes of the groves of Ida and of OEnone, and of how she rose from -the waters and loved him in the days of his innocent youth. And he -remembered her words: - -"O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy -hurt." - -And he wondered whether she would keep her word and forgive him and -heal him, so that they could go back to their old life upon the -mountains. But even if she would not, he felt that he would rather die -there than in the airless city. - -So they wrapped him about in warm coverings--for it was winter-time, -and the snow lay white upon the ground--and carried him forth upon -Ida. And they placed a blazing torch above his head and left him on -the lonely heights, and the whispering pine-trees kept watch above him -as they tossed their arms in the cold north wind. - -From the shadow of a boulder OEnone watched the procession wind back -down the mountain-track, and when they had passed out of sight she -came forth from her hiding-place. The tale of Paris and Helen she -knew full well, and the reason of the war, for she had listened to the -talk of the shepherds on the mountains. But still in her heart she -loved Paris; and when she saw him carried forth to die, she remembered -how she had promised to heal him of his hurt, for she knew many a -magic charm, and she could heal him if she would. So now she drew near -to him out of the forest, and bent over his couch, and her red-gold -hair fell soft about his face. But the fire of fever burnt hot within -him, and he knew her not; but the face that came before his wandering -mind was the face of Helen. - -"Helen!" he whispered, "Helen!" - -At the sound of that hated name a great bitterness came into the heart -of OEnone. - -"Must I heal thee for the sake of Helen?" she cried, and turned and -fled through the darkened pines, on, on, she knew not where, and threw -herself at last upon the grass and wept. - -And so the torch burned low above his head and cast a dim red glow -upon the snow, and he died alone of his fever upon the mountains, and -she healed him not of his hurt. - -The next morning came the young men from the city, and the sons of -Priam, and the old king himself, to the place where Paris lay; for -they knew full well that he could not have lived out that night upon -the mountains. And they gathered together the pine-trunks which the -woodmen had left felled upon the ground, and heaped up a great pyre, -high up upon the hills, so that the burning of Paris might shine like -a beacon fire in the sight of Troy and of the Achæan host. When the -pyre was built they placed the body on it, and poured out wine and oil -upon the wood, and the old king stood and lifted up his hands above -his son. - -[Illustration: Cast herself upon the body of Paris, and put her arms -about his neck.] - -"O father Zeus," he prayed, "who rulest upon Ida, before thee do I -burn the body of my son, and before my friends and before my foes, -that they both may see it. May the wine which I pour forth upon his -body be a libation of peace, that by his death he may join together in -friendship those hands which by his sin he made to draw the sword upon -each other. O Zeus almighty, grant my prayer!" - -The people bowed their heads as they heard, and the old man poured -forth the last libation. The salt tears ran from his eyes and fell -upon the body of his son, and washed away from his mind all memory of -his sin and cowardice, and only the image of him remained as he had -been when he came in his youth and beauty for the winning of the bull. -So can the hand of death wipe out all ugliness and wrong. - -When the last libation had been poured, they set the pyre alight, and -in time it burned up bravely, for the oil and the wine, and the breath -of the north wind blowing bleak across the mountain, made the flame -burn bright and clear; and the pyre of Paris shone like a flaming star -against the dull grey sky and over the hills and plain lying silent -beneath their pall of snow. Far away across the valley OEnone saw -the light, and knew that the body of him she loved, and might have -saved, lay perishing within the flames. All too late, the bitterness -in her heart died out, and only the love remained, and she would have -given all she knew to have healed Paris of his hurt. With a wild cry -she rushed, on the wings of the storm-wind, down the valley and up the -hillside, and her white robes flew out behind her and the long locks -of her red-gold hair. Through the ranks of the mourners she rushed and -over the melting snow, through the flames of the pyre, and cast -herself upon the body of Paris and put her arms about his neck. There, -on his last resting-place, she lay with him, and the stifling smoke -closed about her, and her spirit fled away there, where his had gone -before. The people heard her cry, and saw her as she flew through -their midst; but they thought it was the shriek of the north wind -rushing over the hills, and to their eyes her white robes and her -flowing hair seemed but the snowdrift, and last year's dead leaves -whirled madly on the wings of the storm. And so they knew nought of -the love of Paris and OEnone, or of how she watched his flocks with -him when he was brave and free, or of how she forgave him, all too -late, and died with him in the pyre which burned for a beacon of peace -upon the snow-clad hills. - - - THE END - - * * * * * - -_Wells Gardner, Darton, & Co., Ltd._ - -Selected List of their - -_Fine Art Series_ - -Specially adapted for Presents, Prizes, &c. - -Illustrated by Margaret Clayton - -A WONDER-BOOK _of_ BEASTS - -[Illustration] - -Edited by F. J. HARVEY DARTON - -[Illustration] - -Besides numerous Black and White Illustrations, the Title-page and -Frontispiece are daintily coloured. - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - -Illustrated by F. D. Bedford - -CENTENARY EDITION. - -THE 'ORIGINAL POEMS' AND OTHERS - -By JANE and ANN TAYLOR And ADELAIDE O'KEEFE - -Edited - -By E. V. LUCAS - - _'The quality of the poetry of the Misses Taylor has been - praised by such great judges that any praise from ourselves - would be superfluous. No other writers of children's poetry - have written of childish incident with all the child's - simplicity._--SPECTATOR. - - _'Mr. Bedford's illustrations are not only very well drawn, but - inspired by just the right feeling. It may be added that the - Taylors were really the founders of a school. They gave a form - and character to nursery verse which have become classic, and - have been followed more or less by a long line of later - writers.'_--STANDARD. - - _'Thanks are due to that delicate lover of literature and of - children, Mr. E. V. Lucas, for reprinting this veritable - classic.'_ TIMES OF INDIA. - -[Illustration: 'Why should you fear to tell the truth?'--_p. 71_.] - -Large Crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards. - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - -Illustrated by F. D. Bedford - -RUNAWAYS & CASTAWAYS - -Edited with Introduction by E. V. LUCAS - -[Illustration: "Hands his lady out, and gives the guard something for -himself;"] - -Besides profuse black and white illustrations, the frontispiece and -title-page are daintily coloured. - - _'Mr. E. V. Lucas has deliberately set himself to capture - hearts while young and tender.... In twenty years he will have - become such a power in the land as to be a national danger, and - his new work, "Runaways and Castaways," is only another step - towards this enviable destiny.'_--TIMES. - - _'A collection of the most exciting and delightful runaway - stories in the world.'_ NATION. - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - -Illustrated by F. D. Bedford - -ANOTHER BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN - -Selected and Edited by E. V. LUCAS - -[Illustration: We know not who in olden time It was who first invented -rhyme] - -But few have done as much as he To brighten things for you and me.] - -Profusely Illustrated in Black and White, with Frontispiece and -Title-page beautifully printed in Colour. - - '_A delightful compilation, and noticeably excellent in the - method of its arrangement._' - - ATHENÆUM. - - '_We may briefly and emphatically describe it as the most - charming anthology for children that we have seen, original in - choice and arrangement, beautifully bound, and owing no little - to Mr. F. D. Bedford's delightful and sympathetic - illustrations._' - - GUARDIAN. - - '_Most happily selected, Moreover, the light and humorous - verse--verse harmless without any obvious moral--is too much - neglected, for children like to be amused, and this need is - sometimes forgotten._' - - SPECTATOR. - - '_The volume is in itself a real gift-book, being admirably - bound, printed, and illustrated._' - - THE WORLD. - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -FAIRY TALES FROM GRIMM - - '_Of new editions of old favourites the palm must be given, we - think, to this collection of Fairy Tales from Grimm.... We do - not think a better edition has appeared._' - - REVIEW OF REVIEWS. - - '_No more acceptable edition of some of Grimm's Stories has been - published._'--STANDARD. - - '_Altogether delightful. The illustrations are full of charm and - sympathy._'--SATURDAY REVIEW. - -[Illustration] - - '_A fairy book beyond reproach._'--GRAPHIC. - - '_We have nothing but praise for this collection._'--SKETCH. - - '_Grimm is always delightful, but in his present new dress he is - more delightful than ever. Mr. Gordon Browne charms us always - with his dainty pictures._'--GUARDIAN. - - '_All the illustrations are simply inimitable._' - - QUEEN. - -[Illustration: 'The Prince who was afraid of Nothing.'--_p. 216._] - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, &. CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by A. G. Walker - -A BOOK OF BALLAD STORIES - -Selected and Edited by - -MARY MACLEOD - -With Introduction by - -EDWARD DOWDEN - -[Illustration: - - 'Beyond it rose a castle fair - Y-built of marble stone; - The battlements were gilt with gold, - And glittered in the sun.'--_p. 129._ -] - - '_Miss Mary Macleod has succeeded admirably in keeping much of - the spirit of the originals in her prose versions of the best of - the old ballads._' - - TRUTH. - - '_Should take a high place. In this work the famous ballads have - been done into prose so skilfully, and have been so artistically - illustrated, that it forms a volume to be highly - prized_.'--STANDARD. - -[Illustration: 'She stoutly steered the stots about.'--_p._ 110.] - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - -Illustrated by F. D. Bedford - -[Illustration: 'Sat him astride of the saddle of mutton.' _p. 126._] - -OLD-FASHIONED TALES OF LONG AGO - -Edited with Introduction by - -E. V. LUCAS - -Besides numerous black and white Illustrations, the Frontispiece and -Title-page are beautifully printed in Colours. - - '_A charming book. The one ambition of Mr. Lucas' authors is to - be interesting, and they succeed very well._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH. - - '_Beautifully printed, illustrated, and bound._'--SCHOOLMASTER. - -Tales are given from the following Popular Authors:--Thomas Day, Maria -Edgeworth, Mrs. Sherwood, Anne Letitia Barbauld, Charles and Mary -Lamb, Jacob Abbott, Alicia Catherine Mant, Caroline Barnard, Peter -Parley, Catherine Sinclair, Dr. Aiken. The authors of some of the best -tales in the volume are unknown. - -[Illustration: 'A large hole burst open in the wall.' _p. 381._] - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -[Illustration: 'And your experience makes you sad?'--_p._ 152.] - -THE SHAKESPEARE STORY BOOK - -By MARY MACLEOD - -With Introduction - -By SIDNEY LEE - - - '_Mr. Sidney Lee, a quite unimpeachable authority, strongly - recommends this new volume, for which indeed Miss Macleod's - literary reputation will commend a favourable hearing. This new - rendering has been very well done. Mr. Gordon Browne's - illustrations add another charm to a very attractive - book._'--SPECTATOR. - - '_Miss Macleod has followed the plot more closely than Mary and - Charles Lamb, and a charming book of stories is the - result._'--TRUTH - -=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - -[Illustration: 'Some have greatness thrust upon them.'--_p._ xiv.] - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - -Illustrated by Hugh Thomson - -TALES OF THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS - -RETOLD FROM CHAUCER AND OTHER WRITERS - -By - -F. J. HARVEY DARTON - -With Introduction - -By Dr. F. J. FURNIVALL - -[Illustration: 'The cow ran, the calf ran, and even the very hogs -trotted.'--_p._ 122.] - -=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards,= - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -FAIRY TALES FROM HANS ANDERSEN - -Introduction By EDWARD CLODD - -=Large Crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, fancy cloth boards.= - -[Illustration: Reduced facsimile of cover.] - - '_The illustrations leave nothing to be desired._'--STANDARD. - - '_This is really a seasonable for all Christmases._'--PUNCH. - - '_A delightful gift for children._'--TIMES OF INDIA. - -[Illustration: From 'The Ugly Duckling.' _p. 110._] - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -_AN IMPROVING HISTORY FOR OLD BOYS, YOUNG BOYS, GOOD BOYS, BAD BOYS, -BIG BOYS, LITTLE BOYS, COW BOYS, AND TOM BOYS_ - -[Illustration: 'I create you General of the Commissariat.'--_p. 171._] - -THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF SIR TOADY LION - -WITH THOSE OF General Napoleon Smith - -By S. R. CROCKETT - - '_When we say it is one of the most delightful stories about - children we have ever read, we are still short of the mark._' - - DAILY CHRONICLE. - - '_It is distinctly the best Christmas book of the - season._'--DAILY MAIL. - - '_In this excellent book for children, which the elders will - enjoy, Mr. Crockett comes right away from kailyard into a - kingdom of obstreperous fancy, and is purely, delightfully - funny, and not too Scotch.... Mr. Gordon Browne's illustrations - are as good a treat as the story; they realise every thought and - intention of the writer, and are full of a sly and - characteristic drollery all the artist's own._'--WORLD. - -[Illustration: 'How quaint.'--_p. 375._] - -=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by A. G. Walker - -[Illustration: Reduced Cover Design.] - - '_A very beautiful gift-book. Deeply interesting to any - intelligent child, and the beauty of the old romances will - appeal strongly to any imaginative mind, young or old._--THE - WORLD. - - '_Very well re-told ... an excellent introduction to the - treasures of the old literature._'--DAILY MAIL. - -A WONDER BOOK OF OLD ROMANCE - -By F. J. HARVEY DARTON - -CONTENTS - - WILLIAM AND THE WEREWOLF. - KING ROBERT OF SICILY. - SIR CLEGES AND THE CHERRIES. - SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT. - THE FAIR UNKNOWN. - KING HORN. - THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. - SIR DEGORÉ AND THE BROKEN SWORD. - GUY OF WARWICK. - THE ASH AND THE HAZEL. - FLORIS AND BLANCHEFLEUR. - AMYS AND AMYLION. - HAVELOR THE DANE. - -[Illustration: 'Alack, dear lion, who has done this wrong?'--_Guy of -Warwick, p. 302._] - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -[Illustration: 'Old King Cole was a merry old soul.'--_p. 1._] - -NATIONAL RHYMES OF THE NURSERY - -[Illustration: NATIONAL RHYMES OF THE NURSERY - -WITH DRAWINGS BY GORDON BROWNE] - -With Introduction - -By GEORGE SAINTSBURY - - '_The prettiest and most complete collection of this kind that - we have seen._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. - - '_It is impossible to praise the volume too highly._'--BLACK AND - WHITE. - - '_Every conceivable nursery rhyme is herein gathered together, - beautifully illustrated. The collection is certainly the most - perfect that has ever been made._'--SCHOOL GUARDIAN. - - '_Standard authority._'--TIMES. - - '_A very complete collection._' - - PALL MALL GAZETTE. - -=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, bound in art linen -boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -STORIES FROM FROISSART - -By - -HENRY NEWBOLT, - -_Author of 'Admirals All,' &c._ - - '_A really fine book, and effectively illustrated. Mr. Newbolt - has done his work well, and Mr. Gordon Browne has illustrated - the book delightfully._'--OUTLOOK. - -[Illustration: '_There never was a better story-book than Froissart._' - - ATHENÆUM. -] - -[Illustration: 'The four knights view the English host.'--_p. 26._] - -=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -_A Child's Book, for Children, for Women, and for Men._ - -SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS - -By S. R. CROCKETT - -[Illustration: SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS S. R. CROCKETT] - - '_It is the rarest of all rarities, and veritably a child's book - for children, as well as for women and men. It is seldom, - indeed, that the reviewer has the opportunity of bestowing - unstinted praise, with the feeling that the laudation is, - nevertheless, inadequate. "Sweetheart Travellers" is instinct - with drollery; it continually strikes the softest notes of - tenderest pathos, and it must make the most hardened bachelor - feel something of the pleasures he has missed in living mateless - and childless._'--TIMES. - - '_A more delightful book for young, old, and middle aged, it is - scarcely possible to conceive._'--TRUTH. - - '_We confess to having fallen under the spell of these - delightful chronicles. The illustrations are just what was - wanted to make this one of the most attractive books about - children._' - - PALL MALL GAZETTE - -[Illustration: On the road to Conway.--_p. 64._] - -=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -SINTRAM & HIS COMPANIONS - -AND UNDINE - -[Illustration] - -By DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ - -With Introduction - -By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE - - '_The anonymous translation is the good old standard one. Vastly - superior to subsequent versions._'--TIMES. - - '_Certain to engage the sympathies of an entirely new set of - readers._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH. - - '_Nothing could be more attractive than the form in which this - excellent edition is sent forth._'--RECORD. - - '_A better present for a thoughtful lad or lass could hardly - be._'--CHURCH TIMES. - -=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - -[Illustration: Sintram and his companions.--_From p. 139._] - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by F. M. Rudland - -THE HISTORY OF THE - -FAIRCHILD FAMILY - -By Mrs. SHERWOOD - -Edited with Introduction - -By MARY E. PALGRAVE - -[Illustration: _Emily & her brother & sister went to play in the -garden. p. 68_] - - '_A better gift-book is not easy to find than this pleasing - edition of a deservedly popular story._' - - DAILY NEWS. - - '_We have seen few more delightful volumes._'--RECORD. - - '"_The History of the Fairchild Family" has never appeared in a - more attractive form._' - - SCOTSMAN. - -=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Hugh Thomson - -TALES FROM - -MARIA EDGEWORTH - -With Introduction by AUSTIN DOBSON - -[Illustration: Waste Not, Want Not: or, Two Strings to your Bow.--_p. -191._] - - '_One of the best of the new editions that the present Christmas - has called forth. Strangers to the fascinating pen of Maria - Edgeworth could not have a better volume in which to learn what - they have been missing._'--TIMES. - - '_Exceedingly attractive._'--SPECTATOR. - - '_Nothing could be more admirably carried out._'--BOOKMAN. - -=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.= - - -WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON - - -Illustrated by Gordon Browne - -[Illustration: A Chapter Heading.] - -SIR TOADY CRUSOE - -By S. R. CROCKETT - -[Illustration: '_It will thoroughly satisfy the children's most -fastidious taste._' - - Morning - Leader. - - '_The best book for children, if not the best book we have seen - this year._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. - - '_We have seen nothing for a long time to equal the admirable - illustrations._'--DUNDEE COURIER. - -[Illustration: 'Watch 'em, boy!' said Dinkey.--_p. 245._] - - -_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - -Illustrated by F. D. Bedford - -FORGOTTEN TALES OF LONG AGO - -Edited with Introduction by - -E. V. LUCAS - -[Illustration] - -Beside numerous Black and White Illustrations, the Frontispiece and -Title-page are in Colours. - -_The Contents include:_ - -DICKY RANDOM; JEMIMA PLACID; TWO TRIALS; THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE; -THE THREE CAKES; SCOURHILL'S ADVENTURES; ELLEN AND GEORGE; THE -JOURNAL, by Priscilla Wakefield; THE BUNCH OF CHERRIES; THE LIFE AND -ADVENTURES OF LADY ANNE; CAPTAIN MURDERER, by Charles Dickens, and -many other favourite old stories, now forgotten. - - '_Is Mr. E. V. Lucas going to provide its with one of the - prettiest books of each Christmas season? For successive years - we have been delighted with his clever selection from the - child-fiction of our grandparents, and we are left like Oliver - Twist, asking for more._'--BOOKMAN. - -[Illustration: 'She cut her beautiful hair close to her head!'-_p. -162._] - - -_Large crown 8vo, printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._ - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - - -Archaic and inconsistent spelling and punctuation retained. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dawn, by Elsie Finnimore Buckley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF THE DAWN *** - -***** This file should be named 40476-8.txt or 40476-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/4/7/40476/ - -Produced by D Alexander, Matthew Wheaton, Carbon County -Public Library (Rawlins, Wyoming) and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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