The vehicle soon drew up in front of the whitewashed inn, surrounded on three sides by a trellised arbor, overgrown with figs and vine.  The young couples sprang to the ground; and, while the host and his slave dragged up a huge wine-jar with two ears, full of the red juice of the grape, fresh torches were lighted and stuck on poles or fastened to the branches of the sycamore, the youths took their places eager for the dance, and suddenly the festal song went up from their clear throats unbidden, and as though inspired by some mysterious power: 

        Iakchos, come! oh, come, Iakchos! 
        Hither come, to the scene of our revel,
          The gladsome band of the faithful. 
        Shake the fragrant, berried garland,
        Myrtle-twined, that crowns thy love-locks,
          Shedding its odors! 
        Tread the measure, with fearless stamp,
        Of this our reckless, rapturous dance,
          In holy rejoicing! 
        Hand in hand, thrice beatified,
        Lo we thread the rhythmic, fanciful,
          Mystical mazes!

And the dance begins.  Youths and maidens advance to meet each other with graceful movements.  Every step must be a thing of beauty, every bend and rising, while the double flutes play faster and faster, and the measured rhythm becomes a wild whirl.  They all know the dance, and the music is a guide to the feeling to be expressed; the dancing must be suited to it.  Every gesture is a stroke of color which may beautify or mar the picture.  Body and spirit are in perfect harmony, combining to represent the feelings that stir the soul.  It is a work of art, the art of the arms and feet.  Even when passion is at the highest the guiding law is observed.  Nay, when the dancers fly wildly apart, they, not merely come together again with unerring certainty, but form in new combination another delightful and perfectly harmonious picture.

“Seek and find” this dance might be called, for the first idea is to represent the wandering of Demeter in search of her daughter Persephone, whom Pluto has carried off to the nether world, till she finds her and clasps her in her motherly arms once more.  Thus does the earth bewail the reaped fruit of the field, which is buried in the ground in the winter sowing, to rise again in the spring; thus does a faithful heart pine during absence till it is reunited to the beloved one; thus do we mourn our dead till our soul is assured of their resurrection:  and this belief is the end and clew to the mystery.

All this grief and search, this longing and crying for the absent, this final restoration and the bliss of new possession, is set forth by the youths and damsels-now in slow and now in vehement action, but always with infinite grace.