"My child, why wouldst thou go when thou knowest that the world can only bring thee sorrow? Stay here with me in peace." "Nay, there is no peace here for me. Aphrodite is angry, and she will slay me by a slow and cruel death if I do not keep her feast this year. Should I, her priestess, stay away, when even the meanest of the folk gather together in her honour? All these years I have not gone, and now she will stay her hand no more. As for the world and its cruelty, fear not for that. Thou thyself shalt go with me, and stay by my side till I join the procession of priestesses and maidens. Then I will go up with them to the temple, and in their midst I shall be as far from the world as in this tower. I long to stand within the great white temple and hear the chanting of the priests. I long to see the gleaming image of the goddess, and the statue of the risen Adonis, and the altars sweet with incense and flowers. Ah, nurse, let me go, and all the rest of the year, till the glad season comes round once more, I will stay with thee in this tower and pine no more." So piteously did she beg that the old nurse had not the heart to refuse, though she feared what might come of it. But she tried to comfort herself with the thought that perchance, after all, the maiden was right, and that Aphrodite was killing her by a slow and cruel death, because she had never kept her solemn feast-day. The next day broke bright and fair, and Hero, as she looked out from the window, was filled with joy. In the grey dawn she had risen, and sat looking anxiously across the narrow sea towards Abydos and the low line of hills on the further shore. "O Helios," she prayed, "bright and beautiful, shine down upon the earth this day, and fill the hearts of all with gladness; for it is Aphrodite's solemn feast, and the greatest day of all my life." And her prayer was not unanswered. Slowly the grey dawn turned to saffron, and the golden disc of the sun rose over the silent hills and scattered the rosy clouds north and south before him. With a cry of joy Hero turned away from the window and ran to rouse the old dame in the other room. "Nurse, nurse!" she cried, "the sun is shining, and the world has awaked from sleep. It is time to pick the roses and the lilies fresh with dew and weave them into garlands for the goddess. Come up, up, and out with me to the garden." Without waiting for an answer, she tripped down the turret-stair and out into the garden, and the old nurse sighed and followed slowly behind. In the golden morning they gathered the roses and lilies, and wove them into garlands and posies, and heaped up the loose flowers in baskets. When all was ready they set out for the town. Though it was yet early, the streets were thronged with pilgrims and folk hurrying this way and that to the houses of their friends and kinsmen. Yet, despite the bustle and confusion, there were few who had not leisure to turn and watch the maiden and the old woman hastening along.