So Argathona lay asleep in the greenwood, and for a wonder Argathona dreamed a dream. She knew in her sleep that she was in the spot where she lay, in that hollow place in the heart of the old forest where always, since her babyhood, she had loved best to linger. Here in the summer days it was sweet to lie awake and see the sunbeams dapple the grass with shadows, or to be lulled to slumber by the droning of the bees. Here in the summer nights it was sweet to lie awake and peep through the branches at the stars, or to be guided by the silence into the region of sleep. But now, in this unwonted dream of hers, she thought that all the winds of all the world were blowing softly through the lanes and alleys and avenues of the wood, and she believed that she, sleeping, stirred in her sleep to hear, and as she hearkened, it was as if the wailings of the winds grew stronger, till they took the tone of many differing sounds, as the beating of the wings of monstrous birds, and the galloping of huge horses, and the straining of great sails at sea. And as she, in her vision, lay and listened to the cunning of the wind, she was made aware that the place where she rested shone with a marvel of faces that she had not seen since she was a dryad child, and she felt that her wood was peopled once again with the presences of the gods of Greece. She saw them all about her, between the trees and upon the grass, moving upon her like a circle of flakes of white fire, and at first the phantasms seemed to flicker as flame does, inclining this way and that, waxing and waning, but ever coming closer. Suddenly they stood very still, and it was as if she saw clearer and the flamy shapes took substance, and she knew that she was surrounded by the company of the Olympians, and that they showed as she had seen them long ago in her babyhood ere they rode to the hollow land.