Gyges was no golden-winged, heaven-descended god, like the mythical protector of the goddess Psyche, but a rich young charioteer, twenty-two years old. He was a Greek, and a perfect specimen of manly strength and symmetry. He had an oval face, with a pair of sharp, quick black eyes, a bold nose and forehead, and a small mouth, with lips that were thick and gracefully curved,--especially the short upper one, which was shaped like the bow of Eros. His rich, black curly hair was cut short. His body was graceful, lithe, and muscular. He was a living counterpart of the Hermes of Praxiteles at Olympia. At the races he always wore the green color; and as that color was the favorite, the betting odds changed whenever he drove. His intrepid and daring appearance, as he stood in the chariot, with the reins strapped around his body, his right foot resting on the chariot shield in front of him, his body bent back, his eyes flashing with fire, his clear voice shouting to his horses, inspired the spectators with wild enthusiasm. The excitement and rush of the chariots, as they rounded the last turn, with the finish line dead ahead of them,--on, on, in breathless anxiety, on to victory,--so thrilled the multitudes that they rose to their feet and rent the air with cheers. The parents of Gyges, like those of Psyche, had been aristocratic Greeks; but having lost their property, they had moved to Rome to retrieve their fortune. Both were now dead. The mother died when Gyges was but a child; the father but recently. An old freed slave named Nana took care of the home of Gyges. She had been a second mother to him. By her tender care, and through the excellent education and training given him by his father, he had developed into worthy and successful manhood. At the age of sixteen he had mastered the art of wrestling; but liking horses, and preferring the excitement of a charioteer’s life, he had taken racing as a profession. So successful had he become that he had accumulated a neat fortune of a million sesterces. On this day Gyges had left his horses and had come to the rehearsal to watch Psyche in her fascinating movements. So delighted was he by her grace and charm that he frequently broke out with applause. When the rehearsal was over, and Psyche had received congratulations from the instructor and the other dancing-girls, Gyges said to her, “Truly, O Psyche, never have I seen thee dance so well.” “’Tis the character I love best to portray,” answered Psyche. “Dost thou feel too tired to walk along the Via Sacra?” “All weariness flees at the sight of thee, O Gyges,” replied Psyche. “I could walk until evening.”