The dismal Hecate did not much like the
idea of going abroad into the sunny world. But
then she reflected that the sorrow of the discon-
solate Ceres would be like a gloomy twilight
round about them both, let the sun shine ever so
brightly, and that therefore she might enjoy her
bad spirits quite as well as she if she were to
stay in the cave. So she finally consented to
go, and they set out together, both carrying
torches, although it was broad daylight and clear
sunshine. The torchlight seemed to make a
gloom; so that the people whom they met, along
the road, could not very distinctly see their
figures; and, indeed, if they once caught a
glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of snakes
round her forehead, they generally thought it
prudent to run away, without waiting for a
second glance.

As the pair travelled along in this woe-begone
manner, a thought struck Ceres.

"There is one person," she exclaimed, "who
must have seen my poor child, and can doubtless
tell what has become of her. Why did not I
think of him before? It is Phoebus."

"What," said Hecate, "the young man that

[[243]]

p242 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p243w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p244

v?