“So it happened that as she sat spinning one day an old woman, leaning on a staff, stopped by her loom.
“‘Child,’ she said in a gentle voice, ‘a great gift is yours.’
“Arachne tossed her head, and answered scornfully:
“‘Well do I know it, yet Athena dares not try her skill with mine.’
“‘Dares not?’ repeated the old dame, in tones that should have made Arachne tremble. ‘Dares not, say you? Foolish maiden, be warned in time.’
“But Arachne was too proud to yield, and she still persisted, even though the old dame had dropped her mantle, and stood revealed as the great goddess herself.
“‘Be it so,’ said Athena, sternly, and both began to weave.
“For hours their shuttles flew in and out. Arachne’s work was wonderful, but for her theme she had chosen the weakness and the failure of the gods. Athena pictured forth their greatness. The sky was her loom, and from the rainbow she chose her colours, and when her work was finished and its splendours spanned the heavens, Arachne realized that she had failed.
“Ashamed and miserable, she sought to hang herself in the meshes of her web.
“‘Nay, rash maid,’ spoke Athena; ‘thou shalt not die, but live to be the mother of a great race, the most wonderful spinners on earth.’