"Alas, alas! for the happy days on earth," she cried, "and happiest of all the years that I have lived here as the wife of Admetus! Farewell, my couch--farewell for ever!" She tried to tear herself away, but again and again when she had reached the door she turned back and fell once more weeping upon her couch. At last she felt the weakness of death creeping over her, and she knew if she did not leave her chamber then, she would leave it nevermore alive. All her tears were spent, and she had no strength left to weep any more. Outside in the great hall Admetus sat with his head upon his hands, weeping for his wife, and cursing the bitterness of his fate. And she went and stood beside him. "Take me out into the sunlight, Admetus," she said; "the darkness within oppresses me. I can breathe more freely in the air." When he looked at her he was afraid, for she was as pale as death. Gently he raised her in his arms, and placed her on a couch in the portico before the palace. And when she saw the blue sky and the sunshine she smiled. "O sun and light of day," she said, "and ye dancing, eddying clouds, farewell!" "O ye gods, have mercy!" cried Admetus. "My dearest, look up, and leave me not all desolate." But with a cry of fear she started up, and pointed in front. "Look, look! The boat of the dead, and the ferryman of souls with his hand upon the pole--Charon! He calls, 'Alcestis, why dost thou tarry? Hasten and come with me.'" "Ah, Fate, Fate--cruel Fate!" cried Admetus. "He is snatching me away--oh, save me!--down, down to the dark halls of death. Away, let me go! He frowns with his dark gleaming brows. Ah, the dread journey before me!" "Leave me not, leave me not!" cried Admetus. "Lay me down again," said Alcestis, and her voice was scarce more than a whisper. "The strength is gone out of my limbs, and darkness creeps over my eyes. My children, where are you? Come here, my little ones, and nestle close beside me." And the children crept silently to her. Then she held out her hand to Admetus. "My lord," she said, "farewell. Already my feet are planted in the paths of death, and thou canst not hold me back. I have been a loving wife to thee, Admetus; my beauty, my youth, my joy of life--all these I give to thee. Ah, when I am dead, forget me not, for the children's sake, for these poor little ones--promise me. Promise me thou wilt not wed again, for a stepmother's heart would be hard against my children, and they would suffer. Promise me that thou wilt be a father and mother to them in one." [Illustration: And the children crept silently to her.] "I promise," said Admetus.