The amethystine twilight of Olympus died away. The stars blazed with tints of every hue. Ixion and Juno returned to the palace. She leant upon his arm; her eyes were fixed upon the ground; they were in sight of the gorgeous pile, and yet she had not spoken. Ixion, too, was silent, and gazed with abstraction upon the glowing sky.
Suddenly, when within a hundred yards of the portal, Juno stopped, and looking up into the face of Ixion with an irresistible smile, she said, ‘I am sure you cannot now refuse to tell me what the Queen of Mesopotamia’s peacock’s tail was made of!’
‘It is impossible now,’ said Ixion. ‘Know, then, beautiful Goddess, that the tail of the Queen of Mesopotamia’s peacock was made of some plumage she had stolen from the wings of Cupid.’
‘And what was the reason that prevented you from telling me before?’
‘Because, beautiful Juno, I am the most discreet of men, and respect the secret of a lady, however trifling.’
‘I am glad to hear that,’ replied Juno, and they re-entered the palace.
Mercury met Juno and Ixion in the gallery leading to the grand banqueting hall.
‘I was looking for you,’ said the God, shaking his head. ‘Jove is in a sublime rage. Dinner has been ready this hour.’
The King of Thessaly and the Queen of Heaven exchanged a glance and entered the saloon. Jove looked up with a brow of thunder, but did not condescend to send forth a single flash of anger. Jove looked up and Jove looked down. All Olympus trembled as the Father of Gods and men resumed his soup. The rest of the guests seemed nervous and reserved, except Cupid, who said immediately to Juno, ‘Your Majesty has been detained?’
‘I fell asleep in a bower reading Apollo’s last poem,’ replied Juno. ‘I am lucky, however, in finding a companion in my negligence. Ixion, where have you been?’