we have no great need of jewels here. This shining beech-leaf is the treasure you should wear, Pallas. See, a little bough of it, bent just above the white enamel of your forehead. It will be as green as a beryl to-day, and red like copper to-morrow, and perhaps you will need no third adornment.
Pallas.
There is something in the carven box which the shrieking oracle commended to me. "Take this," it said, "take this, and it will turn the blackness of exile into living light."
Eros.
Poor oracle, it became mad before it became dumb.
Pallas.
I was the only one of us all, Eros, who anticipated this change. High up above the glaciers of Olympus, where the warm crystal shone like ice, and the faint cumuli rained jasmine on us, and the blue light was like the cold acid of a fruit, in the midst of our incomparable felicity I pondered on the vicissitude of things.
Eros.
You only, I remember, ever heeded the foolish screaming oracle that moaned for mortals. You always had something of the mortal temperament, Pallas. It jarred upon my mother that you seem to shudder even at the voluptuous turmoil of the senses. She said you always looked old. You look younger now than she does, Pallas.
Pallas.
I am neither old nor young. I know not what I am. But this grey colour and those blowing woods are not unpleasing to me. I can be myself, even here, on a beech-wood peak in the cold sea.
[Enter up the steps Zeus, leaning heavily on Ganymede, and attended by many other Gods.]
Eros, Poseidon, and Pallas.
Hail! father and king!
Zeus.
I can push on no farther. Why have I brought you here? [Gazing round.] Nay, it is you who have brought me here. [He moves up the scene.] I have a demon in my legs, that swells them, breaks them, crushes me down. [To Ganymede.] You are careless; stiffen your shoulder, it slopes like a woman's. I have lost my thunderbolt, I have lost everything. Shall I be bound upon this muddy, slippery rock? What is that horror in the sky?
Poseidon.
It is some dark bird of the north; it seeks a prey in the woodlands.
Zeus.
I think it is a vulture. My eagle fled from me when the rebel whistled to it. It perched beside him, and smoothed its crest against his elbow. All have left me, even my eagle.
Pallas.
Father, we have not left you. We are about you here. One by one the alleys of the beech-wood will open, and one after one we shall all gather here, all your children, all the Olympians.
Zeus.
But where is Olympus? I hardly know you. [Gazing blankly about him.] Are you my children? You [to Pallas] gaze at me with eyes like those I hated most.
Eros.
Whose eyes, father and king?
Zeus.
I will not say. Are you sure [to Poseidon] that is not a vulture? I am torn, see, here under my beard, by a thorn. I can feel pain at last, I, who could only inflict it.
Eros.
Pallas has something in a box —
Zeus [vehemently].
There is nothing in any box, there is nothing in any island, there is nothing in all the empty caskets of this world which can give me any happiness. Is it in this shanty that we must live? Lead me on, Ganymede, lead me on into it, that I may sink down and sleep. Walk slowly and walk steadily, wretched boy.
[He passes into the house, followed by all the others.]
II
[The terrace as before. Early morning, with warm sunshine. Enter Circe, very carefully helping Kronos down the steps of the house. Rhea follows, leaning on a staff. Circe places Kronos in one throne, and sees Rhea comfortably settled in another. Then she sits on the ground between them, at Rhea's knees.]
Circe.
There! We are all comfortable now. How did Kronos sleep, Rhea?
Rhea.
He has not complained this morning. [Raising her voice.] Did you sleep, Kronos?
Kronos [vaguely].
Yes, oh yes! I always sleep. Why should I not sleep?
Circe.
These new arrangements – I was afraid they might disturb you.
Rhea [to Circe].
He notices very little. I do not think he recollects that there has been any change. Already he forgets Olympus. [After a pause.] It is very thoughtful of you, Circe, to take so much trouble about us.
Circe.
I have been anxious about you both. All the rest of us ought to be able to console ourselves, but I am afraid that you will find it very difficult to live in the new way.
Rhea.
Kronos will soon have forgotten that there was an old way; and as for me, Circe, I have seen so much and wandered in so many places, that one is as another to me.
Kronos.
Is it Zeus who has driven us forth?
Circe.
Oh no! Zeus has led us hither. It was he who was attacked, it was against him that the rage of the enemy was directed.
Kronos [to himself].
He let me stay where I was. We were not driven forth before, Rhea, were we? When I saw that it was hopeless, I did not struggle; I rose and took you by the hand…
Rhea.
Yes; and we went half-way down the steps of the throne together…
Kronos [very excitedly].
And we bowed to Zeus…
Rhea.
And he walked forward as if he did not see us…
Kronos.
And then we came down, and I [all his excitement falls from him] I cannot quite remember. Did he strike us, Rhea?
Rhea.
Oh! no, no! He swept straight on, and did not so much as seem to see us, and in a moment he was up in the throne, and all the gods, the new and the old, were bowing to him with acclamation.
Circe [looking up at Rhea, with eager sympathy].
What
