All the year round the maidens enjoyed these pleasures, for never yet had the change of seasons appeared upon the earth; never had the cold, sunless days come to make the earth barren.

                        “There was then
 Summer nor winter, springtide nor the time
 Of harvest, but the soft unfailing sun
 Shone always, and the sowing time was one
 With reaping; fruit and flower together sprung
 Upon the trees; and the blade and ripened ear
 Together clothed the plains.”

One day while they played and laughed and sang, vying with each other as to which could make the most beautiful garlands, they were startled by a strange rumbling sound.  Nearer it came, louder it grew; and suddenly to the frightened eyes of the maidens there appeared a great chariot, drawn by four wild-looking, foam-flecked black steeds.  Not long did the girls gaze at the horses or the chariot—­all eyes were drawn in fascination to the driver of the car.  He was handsome as only a god could be, and yet so gloomy that all knew instantly he could be none other than Pluto, king of the underworld.

Suddenly, while his horses were almost at full speed, he jerked them to a standstill.  Then he sprang to the ground, seized Proserpina in his arms, mounted his chariot, and was off before the frightened nymphs could catch their breath to cry out.  Poor Prosperina screamed and wept, but no one was near to help her or even to hear her.  On they flew, Pluto doing his best to console the weeping girl, but refusing, with a stern shake of the head and a black frown, her plea that she might be allowed to return to her own home, or at least to bid farewell to her mother.

[Illustration:  Pluto seized proserpina]

“Never!” he exclaimed.  “I have as much right as the other gods to a beautiful wife; and since I knew that you, whom I had seen and loved, would not go with me willingly, I took this way to compel you.”

When they came at last to the bank of a raging river, and were obliged to halt, Proserpina redoubled her cries, but still no one heard.  Pluto, fuming and fretting and calling down curses on the River Cyane, which thus opposed his passage, seized his great two-pronged fork and struck the earth a terrific blow.  To Proserpina’s horror a great cavern opened before them, into which they were rapidly whirled.  Then, with a crash, the chasm closed behind them, and they moved on in utter darkness.  The horses seemed to find their way as easily as in the light, however, and Pluto heaved a sigh of relief as the last of the daylight disappeared.

“Do not tremble so, my fair Proserpina,” he said, in a voice far from unkind.  “When your eyes become accustomed to the gloom, you will find it much more restful than the glare we have left behind us.”