at on his stone to
listen. Never yet had such sweet strains been heard in the world of
gloom. Then, for the first time, tears moistened the cheeks of the
Furies, and even the king and queen of the dead were moved to pity.
They summoned Eurydice, and she came, yet halting from her recent
wound.

"Take her," says Pluto, "and lead her back to the light. But she must
follow you at a distance, nor must you once turn round to look upon
her till you have passed beyond these realms. Else the boon we grant
you will be but vain."

A steep path led upward from the realm of darkness, and the way was
hard to find through the gloom. In silence Orpheus led on, till the
goal was close at hand and the welcoming light of the upper air began
to penetrate the darkness. Then a sudden fear struck his heart. Had
Eurydice really followed his steps, or had she turned back, and was
all his toil in vain? Tom with anxiety and longing, he turned to gaze
on his beloved. Dimly he saw her, but for the last time, for a power
she could not resist drew her back. Orpheus stretched out his arms and
tried to seize her, but he only clasped the empty air. "Farewell, a
last farewell," she murmured, and vanished from his sight.

In vain Orpheus tried to follow her, in vain he besought Charon to
carry him a second time across the waters of Acheron. Seven days he
sat on the further bank without food or drink, nourished by his tears
and grief. Then at last he knew that the gods below were pitiless; and
full of sorrow he returned to the upper earth.

For three years he wandered among the mountains of Thrace, finding his
only consolation in the music of his lyre, for he shunned all men and
women and would have no bride after Eurydice.

One day he sat down to rest on a grassy hill in the sunshine, and
played and sang to beguile his sorrow. As he played, the coolness of
shady branches seemed all about him, and looking up he found himself
in the midst of a wood. Oak, poplar, lime, beech, laurel, ash, pine,
plane and maple and many another tree had gathered together here,
drawn from their distant forest homes by the sounds of Orpheus's lyre.
Yes, and the beasts and the birds of the field came too, and Orpheus
sat in their midst and sang and played the tunes of sorrow.

Suddenly a great noise was heard of laughter and shouting and
merry-making. For this was one of the feasts of Bacchus, and the women
were celebrating his rites, wandering over the mountains with da