the maidens of Athens,
walking in rhythmic beauty, and with them their attendants, daughters of
resident foreigners. Following upon these was the long line of bleating
victims, black bulls with gilded horns and ribbon-decked rams without
blemish. And next--but here the people leaned from parapet, house-roof,
portico, and shouted louder than ever:

"The car and the robe of Athena! Hail, _Io, paean!_ hail!"

Up the street on a car shaped like a galley moved the peplus, the great
robe of the sovran goddess. From afar one could see the wide folds spread
on a shipyard and rippling in the breeze. But what a sail! One year long
had the noblest women of Attica wrought on it, and all the love and art
that might breathe through a needle did not fail. It was a sheen of
glowing colour. The strife of Athena with the brutish giants, her contest
with Arachne, the deeds of the heroes of Athens--Erechtheus, Theseus,
Codrus: these were some of the pictures. The car moved noiselessly on
wheels turned by concealed mechanism. Under the shadow of the sail walked
the fairest of its makers, eight women, maids and young matrons, clothed
in white mantles and wreaths, going with stately tread, unmoved by the
shouting as though themselves divine. Seven walked together. But one,
their leader, went before,--Hermione, child of Hermippus.

Many an onlooker remembered this sight of her, the deep spiritual eyes,
the symmetry of form and fold, the perfect carriage. Fair wishes flew out
to her like doves.

"May she be blessed forever! May King Helios forever bring her joy!"

Some cried thus. More thought thus. All seemed more glad for beholding
her.

Behind the peplus in less careful array went thousands of citizens of
every age and station, all in festival dress, all crowned with flowers.
They followed the car up the Dromos Street, across the cheering Agora, and
around the southern side of the Acropolis, making a full circuit of the
citadel. Those who watched saw Glaucon with Democrates and Cimon give
their horses to slaves, and mount the bare knoll of Areopagus, looking
down upon the western face of the Acropolis. As the procession swung about
to mount the steep, Hermione lifted her glance to Areopagus, saw her
husband gazing down on her, raised her hands in delighted gesture, and he
answered her. It was done in the sight of thousands, and the thousands
smiled with the twain.

"Justice! The beautiful salutes the beautiful." And who thought the l