ength or beauty,
yet was he to have no profit of all his labor till he should come to
the land of the undying gods. But it grieved Zeus that the craft of
Here, the Queen, had brought grievous wrong on his child, and he cast
forth Ate from the halls of Olympos, that she might no more dwell
among the gods. Then he spake the word that Herakles should dwell with
the gods in Olympos, as soon as the days of his toil on earth should
be ended.

Thus the child grew in the house of Amphitryon, full of beauty and
might, so that men marveled at his great strength; for as he lay one
day sleeping, there came two serpents into the chamber, and twisted
their long coils round the cradle, and peered upon him with their
cold glassy eyes, till the sound of their hissing woke him from his
slumber. But Herakles trembled not for fear, but he stretched forth
his arms and placed his hands on the serpents' necks, and tightened
his grasp more and more till they fell dead on the ground. Then all
knew by this sign that Herakles must do great things and suffer many
sorrows, but that in the end he should win the victory. So the child
waxed great and strong, and none could be matched with him for
strength of arm and swiftness of foot and in taming of horses and in
wrestling. The best men in Argos were his teachers, and the wise
centaur Cheiron was his friend, and taught him ever to help the weak
and take their part against any who oppressed them. So, for all his
great strength, none were more gentle than Herakles, none more full of
pity for those who were bowed down by pain and labor.

But it was a sore grief to Herakles that all his life long he must
toil for Eurystheus, while others were full of joy and pleasure and
feasted at tables laden with good things. And so it came to pass that
one day, as he thought of these things, he sat down by the wayside,
where two paths met, in a lonely valley far away from the dwellings of
men. Suddenly, as he lifted up his eyes, he saw two women coming
towards him, each from a different road. They were both fair to look
upon; but the one had a soft and gentle face, and she was clad in a
seemly robe of pure white. The other looked boldly at Herakles, and
her face was more ruddy, and her eyes shone with a hot and restless
glare. From her shoulders streamed the long folds of her soft
embroidered robe, which scantily hid the beauty of her form beneath.
With a quick and eager step she hastened to Herakles, that she migh