But Medeia the dark witch-woman had been watching him all the while. She saw how Ægeus turned red and pale when the lad said that he came from Troezene. She saw, too, how his heart was opened toward Theseus; and how Theseus bore himself before all the sons of Pallas, like a lion among a pack of curs. And she said to herself, ‘This youth will be master here; perhaps he is nearer to Ægeus already than mere fancy. At least the Pallantilds will have no chance by the side of such as he.’
Then she went back into her chamber modestly, while Theseus ate and drank; and all the servants whispered, ‘This, then, is the man who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge his size! Ah, would that he were our master’s son!’
But presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels, and her rich Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold; and she came up to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet, soft, winning voice—
‘Hail to the hero, the conqueror, the unconquered, the destroyer of all evil things! Drink, hero, of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil, which heals all wounds, and pours new life into the veins. Drink of my cup, for in it sparkles the wine of the East, and Nepenthe, the comfort of the Immortals.’
And as she spoke, she poured the flask into the cup; and the fragrance of the wine spread through the hall, like the scent of thyme and roses.
And Theseus looked up in her fair face and into her deep dark eyes. And as he looked, he shrank and shuddered; for they were dry like the eyes of a snake. And he rose, and said, ‘The wine is rich and fragrant, and the wine-bearer as fair as the Immortals; but let her pledge me first herself in the cup, that the wine may be the sweeter from her lips.’
Then Medeia turned pale, and stammered, ‘Forgive me, fair hero; but I am ill, and dare drink no wine.’
And Theseus looked again into her eyes, and cried, ‘Thou shalt pledge me in that cup, or die.’ And he lifted up his brazen club, while all the guests looked on aghast.
Medeia shrieked a fearful shriek, and dashed the cup to the ground, and fled; and where the wine flowed over the marble pavement, the stone bubbled, and crumbled, and hissed, under the fierce venom of the draught.
But Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more.