“O Hecate,” she said, “if ever you lose a daughter you will know what sorrow is.  Tell me, for pity’s sake, have you seen my poor child Proserpina pass by the mouth of your cave?”

“No, Mother Ceres,” answered Hecate.  “I have seen nothing of your daughter.  But my ears, you know, are made so that all cries of distress or fright all over the world are heard by them.  And nine days ago, as I sat in my cave, I heard the voice of a young girl sobbing as if in great distress.  As well as I could judge, some dragon was carrying her away.”

“You kill me by saying so,” cried Mother Ceres, almost ready to faint; “where was the sound, and which way did it seem to go?”

“It passed along very quickly,” said Hecate, “and there was a rumbling of wheels to the eastward.  I cannot tell you any more.  I advise you just to come and live here with me, and we will be the two most unhappy women in all the world.”

“Not yet, dark Hecate,” replied Ceres.  “Will you first come with your torch and help me to seek for my child.  When there is no more hope of finding her, then I will come back with you to your dark cave.  But till I know that Proserpina is dead, I will not allow myself time to sorrow.”

Hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the sunshine, but at last she agreed to go, and they set out together, each carrying a torch, although it was broad daylight and the sun was shining.  Any people they met ran away without waiting to be spoken to, as soon as they caught sight of Hecate’s wreath of snakes.

As the sad pair wandered on, a thought struck Ceres.  “There is one person,” she exclaimed, “who must have seen my child and can tell me what has become of her.  Why did I not think of him sooner?  It is Phoebus.”

“What!” said Hecate, “the youth that always sits in the sunshine!  Oh! pray do not think of going near him:  he is a gay young fellow that will only smile in your face.  And, besides, there is such a glare of sunshine about him that he will quite blind my poor eyes, which are weak with so much weeping.”

“You have promised to be my companion,” answered Ceres.  “Come, let us make haste, or the sunshine will be gone and Phoebus along with it.”

So they set off in search of Phoebus, both sighing a great deal, and after a long journey they came to the sunniest spot in the whole world.  There they saw a young man with curly golden hair which seemed to be made of sunbeams.

His clothes were like light summer clouds, and the smile on his face was so bright that Hecate held her hands before her eyes and muttered that she wished he would wear a veil!  Phoebus had a lyre in his hands and was playing very sweet music, at the same time singing a merry song.

As Ceres and her dismal companion came near, Phoebus smiled on them so cheerfully that Hecate’s wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss and Hecate wished she was back in her dark cave.