His soul was rent with anguish. He wandered despairingly with his lute in the Thracian forest, where he found among the rocks a swarm of Mænades, those creatures who foregather at the festivals of Bacchus and, excited with wine and wild debauches, go through the woods inciting everyone to attend the revels which are given in honor of that divinity. They made a loud clamor by clashing their cymbals together and blowing trumpets and horns and swung their wands, wound with vine leaves and ivy, called the thyrsus, crying, “Evoe, Evoe, Bacchus.” These Mænades who found Orpheus lamenting for Eurydice, snatched his lute away and ordered him to entertain them. With horror he turned from them and rejected their importunities. That was too much for a horde of mad women. They stoned him, tore him to pieces, and threw his bleeding limbs into the forest. Chapter VI Atalanta Schœneus married in Arcadia and entreated the gods to send him a son. When his spouse bore him a daughter, he became so enraged that he took the child from her mother, carried her into the wilderness, and left her there. The child was nourished by a bear until she was found by some hunters, who took her away, brought her up, and named her Atalanta. Atalanta grew in beauty and strength and became a vigorous huntress, surpassing all men and youths in daring, swiftness, and skill. Like Artemis, she chose to live unmarried and paid no attention to the youths who solicited her hand. When hard pressed she at last made this condition. He only should have her as wife who surpassed her in running; but those who were defeated should die. Hard as the condition was, the beauty of the maiden attracted a crowd of suitors. Among them was Hippomenes, who came not to take part in the race, but to deride the youths who would risk their lives by such folly. But when the race began and he saw the beautiful huntress, he himself was smitten with love and hoped that none of the youths would win the prize, so that he might take Atalanta home as his wife. The race was finished. The maiden returned with the wreath of victory on her head, but the youths were taken away to suffer death. Then Hippomenes stepped forward and said: “It was not much glory, O Atalanta, to surpass those. Now I wish to race with you. Should fortune favor me, it will be no shame for you to be beaten by one who is great grandson of Poseidon, god of the waters, and whose courage is not inferior to his skill. But should you win, your name will be honored in future days.”