Suddenly a voice cries, “Wait.  Do they know any verses from Euripides?” “More than that, they answer, Balaustion can recite a whole play—­that strangest, saddest, sweetest song—­the ‘Alkestis.’  It does honour to Herakles, their god.  Let them place her on the steps of their temple of Herakles, and she will recite it there.”  The Rhodians are brought in, amidst joyous loving laughter, among shouts of “Herakles” and “Euripides.”  The recital takes place;[33] it is repeated a second day and a third; and Balaustion and her kinsmen are dismissed with good words and wishes, for, as she declares: 

                    “...  Greeks are Greeks, and hearts are hearts,
       And poetry is power,....” (vol. xi. p. 14.)

The story of Alkestis scarcely needs repeating.  Apollo had incurred the anger of Jupiter by avenging the death of his son AEsculapius on the Cyclops whose thunder-bolt had slain him; and been condemned to play the part of a common mortal, and serve Admetus, King of Thessaly, as herdsman.  The kind treatment of Admetus had made him his friend:  and Apollo had deceived the Fate sisters into promising that whenever the king’s life should become their due, they would renounce it on condition of some other person dying in his stead.  When the play opens, the fatal moment has come.  Alkestis, wife of Admetus, has offered herself to save him; and Admetus, though he does so with a heavy heart, has been weak enough to accept the sacrifice.  Death enters the palace, from which even Apollo can no longer turn him away.

But just as Alkestis has breathed her last, Herakles appears; and his great cheery voice is heard on the threshold of the house of mourning, inquiring if the master be within.  Admetus suppresses all signs of emotion, that he may receive him as hospitality demands; and Herakles, hearing what has happened from a servant of the house, is moved to gratitude and pity.  He wrestles with Death; conquers him; and brings back Alkestis into her husband’s presence, veiled, and in the guise of a second companion.  Admetus will at first neither touch nor look at her.  He has promised his dying wife to give her no successor; and her memory is even dearer to him than she herself has been.  The god however reasons, persuades, and insists; and at length, very reluctantly, Admetus gives his hand to the stranger, whom he is then told to unveil.  Herakles has delayed the recognition, that Alkestis might be enabled to probe her husband’s fidelity, and convince herself that sorrow had made him worthier of her.

Balaustion half recites the play, half describes it, “as she has seen it at Kameiros this very year,” occasionally compressing an unimportant scene, but always closely adhering to the original.  She knows that she is open to the reproach of describing more than the masked faces of the actors could allow her to see; but she meets it in these words:—­

       “What’s poetry except a power that makes? 
       And, speaking to one sense, inspires the rest,
       Pressing them all into its service:”  (vol. xi. pp. 17, 18.)