, brought here by Love."

When Orpheus said the name of Love, Persephone, the queen of the dead,
bowed her young head, and bearded Aidoneus, the king, bowed his head
also. Persephone remembered how Demeter, her mother, had sought her all
through the world, and she remembered the touch of her mother's tears
upon her face. And Aidoneus remembered how his love for Persephone had
led him to carry her away from the valley in the upper world where she
had been gathering flowers. He and Persephone bowed their heads and
stood aside, and Orpheus went through the gate and came amongst the
dead.

Still upon his lyre he played. Tantalus--who, for his crimes, had been
condemned to stand up to his neck in water and yet never be able to
assuage his thirst--Tantalus heard, and for a while did not strive to
put his lips toward the water that ever flowed away from him;
Sisyphus--who had been condemned to roll up a hill a stone that ever
rolled back Sisyphus heard the music that Orpheus played, and for a
while he sat still upon his stone. And even those dread ones who bring
to the dead the memories of all their crimes and all their faults, even
the Eumenides had their cheeks wet with tears.

In the throng of the newly come dead Orpheus saw Eurydice. She looked
upon her husband, but she had not the power to come near him. But
slowly she came when Aidoneus called her. Then with joy Orpheus took
her hands.

It would be granted them--no mortal ever gained such privilege before
to leave, both together, the world of the dead, and to abide for
another space in the world of the living. One condition there would
be--that on their way up through the valley of Acherusia neither
Orpheus nor Eurydice should look back.

They went through the gate and came amongst the watchers that are
around the portals. These showed them the path that went up through the
valley of Acherusia. That way they went, Orpheus and Eurydice, he going
before her.

Up and up through the darkened ways they went, Orpheus knowing, that
Eurydice was behind him, but never looking back upon her. But as he
went, his heart was filled with things to tell--how the trees were
blossoming in the garden she had left; how the water was sparkling in
the fountain; how the doors of the house stood open, and how they,
sitting together, would watch the sunlight on the laurel bushes. All
these things were in his heart to tell her, to tell her who came behind
him, silent and unseen.

And no