“There was a young shepherd named Glaucon—­a very handsome young shepherd—­who lived in a little village called Thebes.  It became a very great and famous city afterwards, but at this time it was only a little village, very quiet and simple.  Too quiet for Glaucon’s liking.  He grew tired of it, and he thought he would like to go away from home and see something of the world.  So he took his knapsack and his shepherd’s crook, and wandered away until he came to Thessaly.  That is the land of the gods’ hill, you know.  The name of the hill was Olympus.  But it has nothing to do with this story.  This happened on another mountain—­Mount Pelion.

“Glaucon hired himself to a wealthy man who had a great many sheep.  And every day Glaucon had to lead the sheep up to pasture on Mount Pelion, and watch them while they ate.  There was nothing else to do, and he would have found the time very long, if he had not been able to play on a flute.  So he played very often and very beautifully, as he sat under the trees and watched the wonderful blue sea afar off, and thought about Aglaia.

“Aglaia was his master’s daughter.  She was so sweet and beautiful that Glaucon fell in love with her the very moment he first saw her; and when he was not playing his flute on the mountain he was thinking about Aglaia, and dreaming that some day he might have flocks of his own, and a dear little cottage down in the valley where he and Aglaia might live.

“Aglaia had fallen in love with Glaucon just as he had with her.  But she never let him suspect it for ever so long.  He did not know how often she would steal up the mountain and hide behind the rocks near where the sheep pastured, to listen to Glaucon’s beautiful music.  It was very lovely music, because he was always thinking of Aglaia while he played, though he little dreamed how near him she often was.

“But after awhile Glaucon found out that Aglaia loved him, and everything was well.  Nowadays I suppose a wealthy man like Aglaia’s father wouldn’t be willing to let his daughter marry a hired man; but this was in the Golden Age, you know, when nothing like that mattered at all.

“After that, almost every day Aglaia would go up the mountain and sit beside Glaucon, as he watched the flocks and played on his flute.  But he did not play as much as he used to, because he liked better to talk with Aglaia.  And in the evening they would lead the sheep home together.

“One day Aglaia went up the mountain by a new way, and she came to a little brook.  Something was sparkling very brightly among its pebbles.  Aglaia picked it up, and it was the most beautiful little stone that she had ever seen.  It was only as large as a pea, but it glittered and flashed in the sunlight with every colour of the rainbow.  Aglaia was so delighted with it that she resolved to take it as a present to Glaucon.

“But all at once she heard a stamping of hoofs behind her, and when she turned she almost died from fright.  For there was the great god, Pan, and he was a very terrible object, looking quite as much like a goat as a man.  The gods were not all beautiful, you know.  And, beautiful or not, nobody ever wanted to meet them face to face.