Now while Argathona gazed in awe at the celestials, it appeared to her in her vision that behind these mightiest there congregated a throng of forms filling all the spaces of the wood as far as she could see, and she knew these to be the fellowship of the ancient faith. There clustered the lesser gods, the domestic gods, and the sylvan gods, the divinities of winds and clouds and waters, the beautiful sisters of the dooms and the seasons, and the charities and the arts, and the grim deities of the underworld, and the uncouth creatures that dwelled beyond the realm of night, and the demi-gods, that were men and were uplifted. Argathona beheld them all in a single glance, for all their number, each one individual and familiar, as if no other godlike thing waited there and watched in the moonlight, and yet they blended together even as the moonbeams blended. And now she thought as she lay there, sleeping yet waking, that the eyes of all the Olympians, and the eyes of the myriads beyond, were fixed upon her with a look of entreaty and a look of grief. And the ears of her sleep were quickened, and she heard the eternals speak to her one after one. The first to speak was Zeus, the all-father, launcher of the levin. His hair was wreathed with a chaplet of oak-leaves, and his right hand grasped a staff upon whose head an eagle perched that fluttered its wings as if about to fly and stared around with fierce, unblinking eyes. And Zeus, the commander of the clouds and the tyrant of the thunder, spoke to Argathona, and said: "Deathless daughter of a divine mother, do not desert your mother's people and your birthright, the gift of your kin. For though we no longer abide in Greece, you remain, and we may yet return. Wherefore be faithful to the old faith of the fruitful earth and await the coming of your kindred." So Zeus, the all-father, spoke, and his face was compassionate and sad, and the eagle craned its head towards the sleeping girl and clapped its angry wings. The next to speak was Hera, consort of the monarch of the gods. She wore a queenly crown, and on the ball of her sceptre a cuckoo sat and preened its yellow plumes. And Hera spoke to Argathona, and said: "Daughter of the consecrated forest, do not abandon its sanctuary at the call of a mortal for a mortal's god. That which has gone may come again, and if the time of our triumph arrive we should weep, indeed, were Argathona not here to welcome us." And so she made silence, and the restless cuckoo cried its cry while the wife of the high-minded drew her veil about her face. And the next to speak was Poseidon, the sovereign of the sea, and Poseidon leaned upon his trident, and his voice was as the lapping of waves in a sunny bay.