he sat in his
lonely hall, marveling at the strange things which must have happened
to waken the sounds of joy and triumph; for, since the day when Danae
was cast forth with her babe on the raging waters, the glory of war
had departed from Argos, and it seemed as though all the chieftains
had lost their ancient strength and courage. But the wonder of
Akrisios was changed to a great fear when they told him that his
child, Danae, was coming home, and that the hero, Perseus, had rescued
her from Polydektes, the King of Seriphos. The memory of all the wrong
which he had done to his daughter tormented him, and still in his mind
dwelt the words of warning which came from Phoebus Apollo that he
should one day be slain by the hands of her son; so that, as he looked
forth on the sky, it seemed to him as though he should see the sun
again no more.

In haste and terror Akrisios fled from his home. He tarried not to
hear the voice of Danae, he stayed not to look on the face of Perseus,
nor to see that the hero who had slain the Gorgon bore him no malice
for the wrongs of the former days. Quickly he sped over hill and dale,
across river and forest, till he came to the house of Teutamidas, the
great chieftain who ruled in Larissa.

The feast was spread in the banquet-hall, and the Thessalian minstrels
sang of the brave deeds of Perseus, for even thither had his fame
reached already. They told how from the land of toiling men he had
passed to the country of the Graiai and the Gorgons, how he had slain
the mortal Medusa and stiffened the giant Atlas into stone, and then
they sang how, with the sword of Hermes, he smote the mighty beast
which ravaged the Libyan land, and won Andromeda to be his bride. Then
Teutamidas spake, and said, "My friend, I envy thee for thy happy lot,
for not often in the world of men may fathers reap such glory from
their children as thou hast won from Perseus. In the ages to come men
shall love to tell of his great and good deeds, and from him shall
spring mighty chieftains, who shall be stirred up to a purer courage
when they remember how Perseus toiled and triumphed before them. And
now tell me, friend, wherefore thou hast come hither. Thy cheek is
pale, and thy hand trembles, but I think not that it can be from the
weight of years, for thy old age is yet but green, and thou mayest
hope still to see the children of Perseus clustering around thy
knees."

But Akrisios could scarcely answer for shame and fe