ver do they trust. Ever they fight, fearless and
unashamed, and when the sum of their days on earth is accomplished,
wings, of whose existence they have never had knowledge, bear them
upwards, out of the mist and din and strife of life, to the life that
has no ending."

Then she laid her hand on the hand of Perseus. "Perseus," she said,
"art thou of those whose dull souls forever dwell in pleasant ease, or
wouldst thou be as one of the Immortals?"

And in his dream Perseus answered without hesitation:

"Rather let me die, a youth, living my life to the full, fighting
ever, suffering ever," he said, "than live at ease like a beast that
feeds on flowery pastures and knows no fiery gladness, no
heart-bleeding pain."

Then Pallas Athene, laughing for joy, because she loved so well a
hero's soul, showed him a picture that made even his brave heart sick
for dread, and told him a terrible story.

In the dim, cold, far west, she said, there lived three sisters. One
of them, Medusa, had been one of her priestesses, golden-haired and
most beautiful, but when Athene found that she was as wicked as she
was lovely, swiftly had she meted out a punishment. Every lock of her
golden hair had been changed into a venomous snake. Her eyes, that had
once been the cradles of love, were turned into love's stony tombs.
Her rosy cheeks were now of Death's own livid hue. Her smile, which
drew the hearts of lovers from their bosoms, had become a hideous
thing. A grinning mask looked on the world, and to the world her
gaping mouth and protruding tongue meant a horror before which the
world stood terrified, dumb. There are some sadnesses too terrible for
human hearts to bear, so it came to pass that in the dark cavern in
which she dwelt, and in the shadowy woods around it, all living things
that had met the awful gaze of her hopeless eyes were turned into
stone. Then Pallas Athene showed Perseus, mirrored in a brazen shield,
the face of one of the tragic things of the world. And as Perseus
looked, his soul grew chill within him. But when Athene, in low voice,
asked him:

"Perseus, wilt even end the sorrow of this piteous sinful one?" he
answered, "Even that will I do--the gods helping me."

And Pallas Athene, smiling again in glad content, left him to dream,
and Perseus awoke, in sudden fear, and found that in truth he had but
dreamed, yet held his dream as a holy thing in the secret
treasure-house of his heart.

Back to Seriphos he sail