"It is Hebe come down from the courts of heaven," they said--"she who giveth to the deathless gods eternal youth and joy. None can look on her face and be sad." And, indeed, all the sunshine of the morning seemed reflected in Hero's face, so glad at heart was she. It was small wonder that men turned and looked at her; for she walked as one of the Immortals, full of dignity and grace. No evil thing had ever touched her or left its mark upon her soul. But in a fair garden she had grown to womanhood, where the breeze made music in the plane-trees and the waves beat time upon the shore, and on the hill behind, the tall dark cypress-trees kept silent watch above her. No angry word had ever reached her ears, but as long as she had lived the love of one faithful heart had shielded her. And now, though she knew it not, the call of life had come to her, as it comes to every living thing, and with eager, open arms she was answering it. In the midst of that bustling city crowd, she was like a fair flower that brings into some restless sick-room the scent of sunlit meadows and the murmur of dancing streams. As she went she laughed and talked merrily to the old nurse beside her, and ever and anon a flower would fall to the ground from the laden basket she was carrying; and one of the crowd would quickly pick it up and place it in his bosom, and carry away in his heart something of the music of her laughter and the sunshine of her eyes. The old nurse when she saw it was filled with fear, and hastened faster along; but Hero saw none of these things, nor knew that she was different from other folk. At length they reached the temple on the hill and went into the chamber where Aphrodite's priestesses and maidens were to meet; and they clad her in long white robes, and put a garland on her head. When all were ready, they went and stood before the priest of the temple, and he told them in what order they should walk. First came little children, who scattered rose-leaves in the path, and behind them followed maidens, playing upon pipes, and singing the hymn to Adonis and Aphrodite. Next came the priest himself, and on either side of him two maidens walked, and held above his head great fans of peacock's plumes. After him followed the long procession of priestesses and maidens, incense-bearers, and the keepers of the sacred doves. Last of all came Hero, bearing in her hands a garland of roses and lilies to lay at the feet of the great white statue of the goddess. Each year the fairest of the maidens was chosen for this task, and in all that throng of youth and beauty there was none more fair than she. With her eyes upon the gleaming statue that shone from the dark recess above the heads of the worshipping people, she walked as one in a dream. About her the smoke of the incense rose, and to her ears the voices of the singers sounded low and far away as they sang,