“What is the use of it all?” he complained. “No doubt the gods are just, and ought to be obeyed; but they are not kind. Why did they send me into the world, and give me strength, only to go about after wild beasts at the bidding of a coward? Why did they give me passions, only to have the trouble of keeping them down? If I had been like other men—as weak and as cold-blooded as they are—I should have been happy, and perhaps done some real good, and at any rate lived my own life in my own way. It isn’t as if I cared for glory, but I do want a little peace and pleasure. Come, Pholus, let me have some wine: I want it, and let it be in plenty!”
“I am very sorry,” said Pholus. “I have no wine.”
“Why, what is that, then?” asked Hercules, pointing to a big barrel in the corner.
“That is wine,” said Pholus; “but I can’t give you any of it, because it is not my own. It belongs to all the Centaurs; and, as it is public property, nobody may take any of it without the leave of the whole tribe.”
“Nonsense!” said Hercules. “Wine I want, and wine I’ll have.”
So saying, he stove in the head of the cask with a single blow of his fist, and, dipping and filling a goblet, began to drink eagerly.
The wine soon began to warm his blood and raise his heart. After the first cup or two, the cloud which had been falling over him rolled away, and life again seemed worth living for its own sake, and not only for duty’s. But he did not stop at two cups, nor at three; nor even when it began to mount into his brain, and to bring back those wild instincts which he thought he had left behind him in the Temple of Apollo.
Meanwhile the news had spread among the Centaurs that Hercules was among them, and making free with the public wine. The odor of the broken cask brought a crowd of them at full gallop, and disturbed Hercules in the midst of his carouse.
“Do you call this hospitality, you savages?” he shouted, stumbling out of the house, and laying about him with his club freely among the crowd, while Pholus vainly tried to prevent mischief. Down went Centaur after Centaur, till those who were uninjured galloped away panic-stricken, Pholus himself being among the slain.
“To Chiron!” cried the Centaurs; “he will know how to deal with this madman.”