‘What is all this?’ inquired Juno, advancing, pale and agitated.
‘Come along; you shall see,’ answered Jupiter. ‘Follow me, follow me.’
They all followed the leader, all the Gods, all the genii; in the midst, the brawny husband of Hebe bearing Ixion aloft, bound to the fatal wheel. They reached the terrace; they descended the sparkling steps of lapis-lazuli. Hercules held his burthen on high, ready, at a nod, to plunge the hapless but presumptuous mortal through space into Hades. The heavenly group surrounded him, and peeped over the starry abyss. It was a fine moral, and demonstrated the usual infelicity that attends unequal connection.
‘Celestial despot!’ said Ixion.
In a moment all sounds were hushed, as they listened to the last words of the unrivalled victim. Juno, in despair, leant upon the respective arms of Venus and Minerva.
‘Celestial despot!’ said Ixion, ‘I defy the immortal ingenuity of thy cruelty. My memory must be as eternal as thy torture: that will support me.’