Agne’s Advice.
“Could love part thus? was it not well to speak,
To have spoken once? It could not but be well.”
Tennyson.
Alone in the darkness outside the cave of Pluto, the words of Agne kept
ringing in Persephone’s ears:—“Live first! A mother will present the
truths more vividly than one who has never known the joys and pangs of
motherhood.” Was this longing which filled her being, love for the man
who had just left her, or was it merely an indefinable desire to fulfill
the requirements of nature in regard to her sex?
A short distance away the massive temple stood in dim relief against a
starry sky. An occasional group of celebrants passing between it and the
silent figure of the girl, revealed the sacred edifice and its precincts
in the fluctuating lights of their torches. Life to Persephone had not
been unlike that solid masonry, which had stood since it was built,
unaffected by storms without, but now the flickering lights revealed it
in a new aspect; showed it by the wavering illumination to contain
secret nooks and crannies which had before been invisible. So had this
new emotion lighted Persephone’s soul till it brought into evidence
secret chambers of her being of which she had been heretofore
unconscious.
Once before this yearning had taken possession of her being—she blushed
with shame to think of it, but it was when the Persian officer had
kissed her, after they had witnessed together the great battle. Of
course it was wicked, she thought to herself, to think of that brute who
had dared contemptuously to push aside the first civilities of their
acquaintance, and behave in such a rude manner, for Ephialtes who was a
Greek had never dared——
“Anyway,” she said half aloud, “he was probably killed at Platæa and it
serves him right—only—of course—death is a pretty severe penalty just
for kissing a girl, even if one has no right to do it—no, I hope he
isn’t dead. He wasn’t as handsome as Ephialtes, but there was something
more courageous and masterful about him, and his eyes didn’t shrink from
looking right into mine—”
With her hand upon her breast, her eyes wide and bright, she said
aloud:—“Live first! A mother will present the truths more vividly than
one who has never known the joys and pangs of motherhood.”
The sudden consciousness of someone standing near, caused her to start
violently and stammer in confusion, as she realized her last thoughts
had been audible. A young man had appeared out of the shadows.
He came a few steps nearer and said humbly: “I beg your pardon for this
intrusion. I came from the temple to explore the Grotto, then I saw you
standing here, truly a vision to satisfactorily complete this impressive
scene. I stood and watched you. I had no idea you would think aloud!”
Even in the faint light Persephone had recognized her rescuer of the
Acropolis, and though her heart quickened its beat and her cheeks
flushed, she resented his having heard her words, and said somewhat
haughtily: “I thought all the Persians had left Greece by this time.”
“All the Persians have,” he replied. “I am a Greek.”
A contemptuous smile curled her lips. “It must be convenient to be able
to change one’s nationality at will!”
Her words stung him, but he did not swerve from his purpose. He took a
step closer to her and said evenly: “I have been searching for you ever
since the Persians were defeated at Platæa and now I have found you. Who
are you Persephone?”
She did not shrink from him at his approach, but with lips slightly
parted and eyes wide with wonder, gazed steadfastly into his face. As
their eyes met, his features relaxed from their severity, and once again
he felt the same impulse to hold and kiss her as he had after the
miracle of Salamis. All disdain had vanished from her attitude, and the
words he had heard her speak and the vague yearning which they
expressed, might not he—? His arms were stretched forth to take her, his
lips eager to meet hers, when the vision of another face came between;
the face of one to whom he had made a sacred promise of love! Was he
weak, that he could change his nationality and his sweethearts to
accommodate his moods? He backed away, covering his face with an
uplifted arm, and uttered a sob, “It is too late, little girl! Forget
that I sought you after the Mysteries, forget that I love you.”
Persephone’s lips quivered as she asked faintly: “Why is it too late?”
He did not answer, so deep was his emotion. Suddenly a new thought
occurred to him and he asked roughly, “That fellow who played Pluto with
you, does he—love you?”
She lowered her eyes in embarrassment as she answered, “He has said
so—but—”
“That is enough,” Zopyrus interrupted rudely, “had you any—thought of
accepting his attentions? This may seem rude to you,” he added
apologetically, “but believe me, my motives are pure in asking you
this.”
Persephone looked shyly into the eyes of the man whom she now knew she
loved more dearly than any other, and desiring to entice him into an
avowed declaration of his adoration of her, she said demurely:
“Circumstances might favor my acceptance of the young man who played
with me as Pluto.”
Zopyrus ground his teeth in secret dismay. He knew she was innocent of
the fact that her would-be-lover was a traitor, but how could he,
Zopyrus, who was in honor bound to renounce her, reveal her lover’s
identity, and bring disappointment to the maiden’s heart whose longings
he had heard in her own words but a short time ago. He could not, he
felt, be like the dog in the manger of which Aesop had written. If he
could not have her, he could not deny her happiness with another—but a
traitor! Perhaps it was best that she should know before it was too
late. He looked again into her eyes and opened his mouth to speak, then
with a shrug of despair he turned and left her.
He was gone, and so were all the celebrants bearing torches. The temple
was now an indistinct black blot against the sky. No cracks and crannies
were revealed by wavering lights! Someone touched her arm. It was Agne!
“Did you take my advice, dear Persephone?” whispered the woman. “Did you
decide to live? Did you accept him?”
“Did I accept whom?” asked Persephone dazedly. “Oh, yes—no—, I—that is
he is going to take me to celebrate the festivities at Naxos on the
second night of the full moon. Will you, dear Agne, go with us as
chaperone?”
Agne consented and said, “I know he loves you. He seemed loath to leave
you just now. Do not allow his role as Hades to prejudice you against
him.”
Persephone felt relieved, for by Agne’s last remark, she knew that in
the dark Agne had mistaken the stranger for Ephialtes.
“You are right, Agne, I will live while I am young. When Ephialtes asks
me for an answer at Naxos, I will accept him.” Persephone’s voice
faltered, and Agne misunderstood the cause of the quavering tones.
“I wish you, dear girl, all the happiness that might have been mine, had
I chosen differently when I stood at the forks.”