ONE sunny day in April long ago, a maiden sat in a lonely tower looking out across the Hellespont. At her feet the blue ripples lapped lazily on the beach and played a soothing lullaby upon the stones, and the white-sailed ships floated slowly down the stream from Sestos, carrying their rich freights of corn and merchandise. To the north she could see the port of Sestos, with the great walls running down from the city to the harbour, and the masts of the ships as they lay at anchor by the quay. Across the water, facing the tower, stood Abydos, with its palaces and houses nestling white at the foot of the low green hills. So narrow is the sea that runs between Sestos and Abydos, and so swiftly does the current flow, that the ancients used to think it was a great river running down from Propontis and the stormy Euxine, and emptying their overflowing waters into the wide Ægean main. So they called it the broad Hellespont, for the rivers of Greece were but narrow streams beside it.
As she looked across the sunlit waters the maiden sighed, and turned wearily to an old dame who sat spinning in a corner of the room.
"Good mother," she said, "how many years didst thou say we two have lived in this wave-washed tower?"
"'Tis close on twenty years, my dear, since I brought thee here, a tiny babe in my arms."
"Twenty years!" sighed the maiden. "Twenty centuries had passed by more swiftly in the bright busy world out yonder. How long is a woman's life, good nurse?"
"With the blessing of Heaven she may live for four score years, my child."
"Four score years—four times as long as I have lived already! I can well dispense with the blessing of Heaven."
"Nay; hush, hush!" cried the old woman, and stopped her spinning hastily. "What ails thee, Hero? Thou wast never wont to speak such dreadful words."