e twilight. She
looked up at the great dungeon tower which overshadowed the garden,
and thought of the two young princes who were prisoners there. Duke
Theseus had brought them from Thebes. He was very proud of them, and
would not give them up, although the people of their land offered to
give him gold and jewels for their ransom. The princes were cousins,
and were the last of the royal line of Thebes. In the stillness Emelia
murmured their names to herself, "Palamon and Arcite, Palamon and
Arcite. How miserable they must be in their narrow cell!" she thought.
Then she sighed that life should be so sad for them while it was so
bright for her!

As she roamed up and down and gathered roses white and red to make a
garland for her hair, the sun broke through the mist and shone into
the garden. Once more she raised her eyes to the tower. This time she
did not look at it, but at the sunlit clouds beyond. The light from
the east fell on her. Her hair shone like gold, and her face was
radiant with happiness.

Palamon at that moment came to the narrow iron-barred window through
which alone he and his cousin could see the sky and the fields and the
city. He saw the morning light fall on the fair buildings of Athens,
and on the plains and hills beyond. Then a glad song which burst from
Emelia's happy heart floated up to him. He looked down. Before him
stood the maiden bathed in sunlight.

She seemed to him the very Spirit of Beauty. He thought of all the joy
and life and freedom that he could never have. He started back from
the window and cried aloud.

His cousin Arcite sprang from his couch and said, "My cousin, what
aileth thee? I pray thee that thou bear our imprisonment in patience.
Sad it is in truth, but we must abide it. We can do nought else."

But Palamon said: "Thou art mistaken. Prison walls drew not that cry
from me. An arrow hath entered my heart through mine eye, and I am
wounded. What life can give is bound up for me in the fairness of a
maiden who roams in yonder garden. Be she Spirit or woman I know not!
But this I know, was never woman nor Spirit half so fair before."

"Spirit of Beauty," he cried, "if thou choosest to take the form of a
radiant woman here before me in this garden, pity my wretchedness!
Save us from this prison, and if that may not be, have pity on our
country and help our fallen friends."

Arcite pressed forward and leant over Palamon's shoulder. The window
was only a narrow slit, and