e her eyes sparkle
so that Apollo gladly thought, "Soon she will be mine."

[Illustration: MARPESSA SAT ALONE BY THE FOUNTAIN]

And all this while Idas schemed and plotted and planned a way in which
he could save his dear one from her obdurate father, and from the
passion of a god. He went to Neptune, told his tale, and begged him to
lend him a winged chariot in which he could fly away with Marpessa.
Neptune good-naturedly consented, and when Idas flew up from the
seashore one day, like a great bird that the tempests have blown
inland, Marpessa joyously sprang up beside her lover, and swiftly they
took flight for a land where in peace they might live and love
together. No sooner did Evenos realise that his daughter was gone,
than, in furious anger against her and her lover, he gave chase. One
has watched a hawk in pursuit of a pigeon or a bird of the moors and
seen it, a little dark speck at first, gradually growing larger and
more large until at length it dominated and conquered its prey,
swooping down from above, like an arrow from a bow, to bring with it
sudden death.

So at first it seemed that Evenos must conquer Idas and Marpessa in
the winged chariot of Neptune's lending. But onwards Idas drove the
chariot, ever faster and faster, until before the eyes of Marpessa the
trees of the forest grew into blurs of blue and brown, and the streams
and rivers as they flew past them were streaks of silver. Not until he
had reached the river Lycormas did the angry father own that his
pursuit had been in vain. Over the swift-flowing stream flew the
chariot driven by Idas, but Evenos knew that his horses, flecked with
white foam, pumping each breath from hearts that were strained to
breaking-point, no longer could go on with the chase. The passage of
that deep stream would destroy them. The fierce water would sweep the
wearied beasts down in its impelling current, and he with them. A
shamed man would he be forever. Not for a moment did he hesitate, but
drew his sharp sword from his belt and plunged it into the breast of
one steed and then of the other who had been so willing and who yet
had failed him in the end. And then, as they, still in their traces,
neighed shrilly aloud, and then fell over and died where they lay,
Evenos, with a great cry, leaped into the river. Over his head closed
the eddies of the peat-brown water. Once only did he throw up his arms
to ask the gods for mercy; then did his body drift down with the
s