plunged the horses. A moment more and Pluto was in his own kingdom, Persephone by his side.
When the king seized the maiden in the meadow, and bore her to his chariot, she had cried aloud to Zeus, her father, to save her. But Zeus had made no sign, nor had any heard save Hecate, a mysterious goddess, whose face was half hidden by a veil.
None other heard, yet her piteous cry echoed through the hills and woods, until at length the faint echo reached the ear of Demeter.
A great pain plucked at the heart of the mother as she heard, and throwing the blue hood from off her shoulders, and loosening her long yellow hair, Demeter set forth, swift as a bird, to seek for Persephone until she found her.
To her own home first she hastened, for there, she thought, she might find some trace of the child she loved so well. But the rooms were desolate as 'an empty bird's nest or an empty fold.'
The mother's eyes searched eagerly in every corner, but nothing met her gaze save the embroidery Persephone had been working, 'a gift against the return of her mother, with labour all to be in vain.' It lay as she had flung it down in careless mood, and over it crept a spider, spinning his delicate web across the maiden's unfinished work.
For nine days Demeter wandered up and down the earth, carrying blazing torches in her hands. Her sorrow was so great that she would neither eat nor drink, no, not even ambrosia, or a cup of sweet nectar, which are the meat and drink of the gods. Nor would she wash her face. On the tenth day Hecate came towards her, but she had only heard the voice of the maiden, and could not tell Demeter who had carried her away.
Onward sped the unhappy mother, sick at heart for hope unfulfilled, onward until she reached the sun. Here she learned that it was Pluto who had stolen her daughter, and carried her away to his gloomy kingdom.
