Raising his eyes, Admetus found himself face to face with his strange herdsman.
"My head burns from feasting in the crowded hall," he said, "and I am come out to get the cool night air."
The herdsman answered him never a word, but gazed at him with his strange piercing eyes. And Admetus glanced this way and that, but could not meet that steadfast look.
"Why do the gods torment me?" he cried hotly. "What have I done that I should be tortured on my bridal night?"
"Nay, think rather what thou hast left undone."
"Left undone?" cried Admetus, and pointed to the altar in the centre of the court. "Seest thou not the fire still red from the burning of the sacrifice? Not here only, but throughout the whole city, do they steam with the savoury smoke."
"Altars may steam while hearts are cold, Admetus. One fervent prayer before the solitary shrine availeth more than hecatombs of oxen slain without a thought. Did I not stand before thee in the path this day and lift my hands in prayer to Hecate? But with unseeing eyes didst thou pass me by, and the goddess is wroth at thy neglect, and her anger standeth between thee and thy bride."
And Admetus stood with eyes downcast before him, and had never a word to say.
"Yet because I love thee I will help thee once again," the herdsman said. "Go back upon thy road and offer now thy prayers. I too will intercede for thee, and methinks that the voice of my pleadings she will not disdain."