What more could mortal woman crave than
the gift of immortality shared with one whose power ruled the vast
universe, and who still had stooped to lay the red roses of his
passionate love at her little, human feet? And yet--and yet--in that
sorrow-free existence that he promised, might there not still be
something awanting to one who had once known tears?

"Yet I, being human, human sorrow miss."

Then were he indeed to give her the gift of immortal life, what value
were life to one whose beauty had withered as the leaves in autumn,
whose heart was tired and dead? What uglier fate than this, to endure
an endless existence in which no life was, yoked to one whose youth
was immortal, whose beauty was everlasting?

Then did she turn to Idas, who stood as one who awaits the judgment of
the judge in whose hands lies the power of meting out life or death.
Thus she spoke:

"But if I live with Idas, then we two
On the low earth shall prosper hand in hand
In odours of the open field, and live
In peaceful noises of the farm, and watch
The pastoral fields burned by the setting sun.
And he shall give me passionate children, not
Some radiant god that will despise me quite,
But clambering limbs and little hearts that err.
... So shall we live,
And though the first sweet sting of love be past,
The sweet that almost venom is; though youth,
With tender and extravagant delight,
The first and secret kiss by twilight hedge,
The insane farewell repeated o'er and o'er,
Pass off; there shall succeed a faithful peace;
Beautiful friendship tried by sun and wind,
Durable from the daily dust of life."

The sun-god frowned as her words fell from her lips. Even now, as she
looked at him, he held out his arms. Surely she only played with this
poor mortal youth. To him she must come, this rose who could own no
lesser god than the sun-god himself.

But Marpessa spoke on:

"And thou beautiful god, in that far time,
When in thy setting sweet thou gazest down
On his grey head, wilt thou remember then
That once I pleased thee, that I once was young?"

So did her voice cease, and on the earth fell sudden darkness. For to
Apollo had come the shame of love rejected, and there were those who
said that to the earth that night there came no sunset, only the
sullen darkness that told of the flight of an angry god. Yet, later,
the silver moonbeams of Diana seem