I am wretched enough now," thought poor Ceres, "to talk with this melancholy Hecate, were she ten times sadder than ever she was yet.
O Hecate," said she, "if ever you lose a daughter, you will know what sorrow is.
No," answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and sighing betwixt every word or two; "no, Mother Ceres, I have seen nothing of your daughter.
It passed very swiftly along," said Hecate, "and, at the same time, there was a heavy rumbling of wheels towards the eastward.
The dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the sunny world.
What," said Hecate, "the young man that always sits in the sunshine?
There they beheld a beautiful young man, with long, curling ringlets, which seemed to be made of golden sunbeams; his garments were like light summer clouds; and the expression of his face was so exceedingly vivid, that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, muttering that he ought to wear a black veil.
As Ceres and her dismal companion approached him, Phoebus smiled on them so cheerfully that Hecate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss, and Hecate heartily wished herself back in her cave.
But Ceres shook her head, and hastened away, along with Hecate.
Ceres answered, that Hecate was welcome to go back thither herself, but that, for her part, she would wander about the earth in quest of the entrance to King Pluto's dominions.