APHRODITE [_to_ EROS].
Shall we recollect this little episode when we walk up the golden street presently to our houses?
EROS.
I cannot think so, mother. That refinement of memory of which Phoebus was speaking will seem the most ridiculous of illusions there.
PHOEBUS.
Yes; to cultivate illusion, to live in the past, to resuscitate experience, may be the amus.e.m.e.nts of mortality, but they mean nothing now to us. When Selene re-enters her orb, she will not disquiet herself about the disorders of its interregnum.
PALLAS [_hastily reascending_].
I have left Pandora"s jewel behind me. I must fetch it.
HERMES [_the last to descend_].
Let me confess that I took it from you. One of the barbarians was weeping, and I wished, I cannot tell why, to see her smile. I gave your jewel to her.
PALLAS.
It is of no moment. It would be an inconspicuous ornament in that blaze of the heart"s beauty to which the white ships are about to carry us.
HERMES.
Come, then, Pallas, and let us linger here no more.
[_They descend and disappear._]
THE END.