“Strange man,” returned the maiden, “who knowest Homer’s speech and not Homer’s self, who renouncest Zeus and resemblest him, hear my tale ere I require thine.  Yesterday I should have called myself the last priestess of Apollo in this fallen land, to-day I have neither shrine nor altar.  Moved by I know not what madness, my countrymen have long ago forsaken the worship of the Gods.  The temples crumbled into ruin, prayer was no longer offered or sacrifice made as of old, the priestly revenues were plundered; the sacred vessels carried away; the voice of oracles became dumb; the divine tongue of Greece was forgotten, its scrolls of wisdom mouldered unread, and the deluded people turned to human mechanics and fishermen.  One faithful servant of Apollo remained, my father; but ’tis seven days since he closed his eyes for ever.  It was time, for yesternoon the heralds proclaimed by order of the King that Zeus and the Olympians should be named no more in Caucasia.”

“Ha!” interrupted the stranger, “I see it all.  Said I not so?” he shouted, gazing into the sky as if his eye could pierce and his voice reach beyond the drifting clouds.  “But to thy own tale,” he added, turning with a gesture of command to the astonished Elenko.

“It is soon told,” she said.  “I knew that it was death to serve the Gods any more, yet none the less in my little temple did fire burn upon Apollo’s altar this morning.  Scarcely was it kindled ere I became aware of a ruffianly mob thronging to sack and spoil.  I was ready for death, but not at their hands.  I caught up this basket, and escaped up the mountain.  On its inaccessible summit, it is reported, hangs Prometheus, whom Zeus (let me bow in awe before his inscrutable counsels) doomed for his benevolence to mankind.  To him, as Aeschylus sings, Io of old found her way, and from him received monition and knowledge of what should come to pass.  I will try if courage and some favouring God will guide me to him; if not, I will die as near Heaven as I may attain.  Tell me on thy part what thou wilt, and let me depart.  If thou art indeed Zeus’s enemy, thou wilt find enough on thy side down yonder.”

“I have been Zeus’s enemy,” returned the stranger, mildly and gravely, “I am so no longer.  Immortal hate befits not the mortal I feel myself to have become.  Nor needest thou ascend the peak further.  Maiden, I am Prometheus!”

II

It is a prerogative of the Gods that, when they do speak sooth, mortals must needs believe them.  Elenko hence felt no incredulity at the revelation of Prometheus, or sought other confirmation than the bonds and broken links of chain at his wrists and ankles.