PROSERPINA AND KING PLUTO
Little Proserpina and Mother Ceres lived in the beautiful valley of Enna where the warm sun shone all the year round. Mother Ceres had plenty of work to do. Each day she made a journey to the meadows, orchards, and fields all over the earth. Indeed it was through her watchful care that the grass grew, and flowers bloomed, that the fruit ripened, and the precious crops of barley, wheat, and rye brought forth a bountiful harvest.
One day at dawn a shining car and a pair of restless winged dragons stood waiting to take Mother Ceres on her daily journey. The dragons were impatient to start, for they knew how much work had to be done each day. Very soon Ceres glided forth and mounted her splendid car. She was clothed in flowing robes of the softest grey and on her head she wore a crown of scarlet poppies and golden wheat.
“Farewell, little daughter,” she called. “I shall come back before the dew falls. Do not venture out of the valley to-day. Farewell!” Off sped the winged dragons with Mother Ceres. Little Proserpina did not mind being left in the valley for she found a good deal of amusement there. Her friends the naiads—beautiful water nymphs—sported about in the cool fountains. Proserpina loved to spend a quiet hour with these gentle maidens. She often played a merry game with Echo, a nymph who lived on a far-off wooded hillside; sometimes she danced in the sunshine with her little playmates.
Mother Ceres’ shining car soon disappeared and little Proserpina ran to some of her companions and said, “Come, come! I hear Pan, the shepherd boy, playing the sweetest music on his reed-pipes! Let us dance in the sunshine! Come!”
In her gayest mood she led the dance to the very edge of a deep wood which bordered the valley. Then the train of little maidens stopped suddenly and listened. Peals of boisterous laughter broke the silence. In the depths of the forest the queerest youths were rollicking about. They had snub noses, hairy ears, and tiny sprouting horns; their hips were covered with shaggy hair and their feet were exactly like a goat’s.
“Hush,” whispered Proserpina, “the madcap satyrs are dancing too. Let us hasten away.”
“We will gather flowers and make garlands,” said one of the maidens.
They slipped quietly away from the noisy wood and ran about in all directions to search for fragrant blossoms,—lilies and violets, hyacinth bells and pinks. The little maidens soon filled their arms with flowers and sat down on a mossy bank to weave garlands.
In her eagerness to find the loveliest blossoms Proserpina had sauntered off a long way from her companions. She could hear the faint echo of their merry voices in the distance.