Only that very year had it reached "Our Isle o' the Rose"; she had seen it, at Kameiros, played just as it was played at Athens, and had learnt by heart "the perfect piece." Now, quick and subtle for all her enthusiasm, she remembers to tell the Sicilians how, besides "its beauty and the way it makes you weep," it does much honour to their own loved deity: "Herakles, whom you house i' the city here Nobly, the Temple wide Greece talks about; I come a suppliant to your Herakles! Take me and put me on his temple-steps To tell you his achievement as I may." "Then," she continues, in a passage which rings out again in the _Apology_: "Then, because Greeks are Greeks, and hearts are hearts, And poetry is power--they all outbroke In a great joyous laughter with much love: 'Thank Herakles for the good holiday! Make for the harbour! Row, and let voice ring: _In we row bringing in Euripides!_'" So did the Rhodians land at Syracuse. And the whole city, hearing the cry "In we row," which was taken up by the crowd around the harbour-quays, came rushing out to meet them, and Balaustion, standing on the topmost step of the Temple of Herakles, told the play: "Told it, and, two days more, repeated it, Until they sent us on our way again With good words and great wishes." That was her Adventure. Three things happened in it "for herself": a rich Syracusan brought her a whole talent as a gift, and she left it on the tripod as thank-offering to Herakles; a band of the captives--"whom their lords grew kinder to, Because they called the poet countryman"--sent her a crown of wild-pomegranate-flower; and the third thing . . . Petale, Phullis, Charope, Chrusion, hear of this also--of the youth who, all the three days that she spoke the play, was found in the gazing, listening audience; and who, when they sailed away, was found in the ship too, "having a hunger to see Athens"; and when they reached Piraeus, once again was found, as Balaustion landed, beside her. February's moon is just a-bud when she tells her comrades of this youth; and when that moon rounds full: "We are to marry. O Euripides!" * * * * *