But she might just as well have talked to the wind that whistled past them; for Pluto urged on his horses, and went faster than ever.  Proserpina continued to cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly, that her poor little voice was almost screamed away; and when it was nothing but a whisper, she happened to cast her eyes over a great, broad field of waving grain—­and whom do you think she saw?  Who, but Mother Ceres, making the corn grow, and too busy to notice the golden chariot as it went rattling along.  The child mustered all her strength, and gave one more scream, but was out of sight before Ceres had time to turn her head.

King Pluto had taken a road which now began to grow excessively gloomy.  It was bordered on each side with rocks and precipices, between which the rumbling of the chariot-wheels was reverberated with a noise like rolling thunder.  The trees and bushes that grew in the crevices of the rocks had very dismal foliage; and by and by, although it was hardly noon, the air became obscured with a gray twilight.  The black horses had rushed along so swiftly, that they were already beyond the limits of the sunshine.  But the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto’s visage assume an air of satisfaction.  After all, he was not an ill-looking person, especially when he left off twisting his features into a smile that did not belong to them.  Proserpina peeped at his face through the gathering dusk, and hoped that he might not be so very wicked as she at first thought him.

“Ah, this twilight is truly refreshing,” said King Pluto, “after being so tormented with that ugly and impertinent glare of the sun.  How much more agreeable is lamplight or torchlight, more particularly when reflected from diamonds!  It will be a magnificent sight when we get to my palace.”

“Is it much farther?” asked Proserpina.  “And will you carry me back when I have seen it?”

“We will talk of that by and by,” answered Pluto.  “We are just entering my dominions.  Do you see that tall gateway before us?  When we pass those gates, we are at home.  And there lies my faithful mastiff at the threshold.  Cerberus!  Cerberus!  Come hither, my good dog!”

So saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped the chariot right between the tall, massive pillars of the gateway.  The mastiff of which he had spoken got up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder legs, so as to put his forepaws on the chariot-wheel.  But, my stars, what a strange dog it was!  Why, he was a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three separate heads, and each of them fiercer than the two others; but, fierce as they were, King Pluto patted them all.  He seemed as fond of his three-headed dog as if it had been a sweet little spaniel, with silken ears and curly hair.  Cerberus, on the other hand, was evidently rejoiced to see his master, and expressed his attachment, as other dogs do, by wagging his tail at a great rate.  Proserpina’s eyes being drawn to it by its brisk motion, she saw that this tail was neither more nor less than a live dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs that had a very poisonous aspect.  And while the three-headed Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King Pluto, there was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and looking as cross and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its own separate account.