Straightway Hermes put on his shining sandals, which bear him dryshod over sea and land, and departed with his message. The song of birds was loud in the woods of Pelion as the god drew near to the Centaur's cave, and the ground he trod was carpeted with crocus and violets, and the scarlet wind-flower, for it was now the spring-tide. Peleus sat with Chiron in the cavern doorway, and saw one coming towards them through a sunny glade. He thought it was some shepherd lad of the hills, for his eyes were holden, that he might not know the god, but the Centaur knew him, and said, "Hail, friend! What may be your errand here?"

"It is for your ear only," said Hermes.

Then Peleus said: "It is full time, O Chiron, that I went hunting again. I will go in chase of roebuck or wild kid to feast your guest withal;" and so took his weapons and hastened forth. At evening he returned, bringing venison, but the stranger was gone; nor did Chiron speak of him; wherefore Peleus asked no questions, having learned the best of manners from the good Centaur.

Next morning Chiron said to him, "I bethink me, Peleus, that I need the juice of a certain flower, for a salve that I am making. Do me a favour to bring me some of it."

"Willingly," said Peleus; "only tell me what is the flower and where it grows."

"It is the yellow sea-poppy," Chiron answered, "and you will find it blowing on the sea-shore, not many leagues from here. But, to be of any virtue, it must be gathered by moonlight."

"That is easily done," said Peleus. "The moon to-night will be almost full. At sunset I will go down to the sea and gather your poppies while she shines upon them."

So Peleus went down the mountain slopes at evening time, and came upon the cliffs above the sea, and saw the waves break glimmering in the dusk below. Then he sat down and waited till the moon should give him light to find a path down to the beach, and, being wearied, he fell asleep. When he awoke the world was flooded with silver radiance, and, through the warm, still air of the May night, the sound of clear voices singing came mingled with the murmur of the sea. He sprang to his feet, and leapt down the rocks from ledge to ledge, drawn by the magic of that entrancing song. And then, as he reached the shore, he saw the singers, and stood spellbound with wonder and delight. The daughters of Nereus were dancing in maiden mirth on the level sands, not clad now in rainbow-coloured robes, but covered only by their floating hair. Faster and faster flew their little feet, twinkling in the moonlight as if slippered with tinsel, and all the while their shrill sweet song rose up like the singing of a thousand larks. Peleus could have looked and listened for ever, but all too soon one of the sea-maidens, who seemed to lead the dance, passing close beside him, turned her head and looked him in the face. Only for an instant he looked into her deep eyes, in colour like the violet shadows on a sunny sea, then, with a startled cry, she turned and fled into the waves. "Away! away!" cried all the sisters, and, like a flock of white sea-birds, the whole company scurried into the moonlit waters and dived out of sight.

Peleus forgot all about the yellow poppies; slowly and sadly he went back up the mountainside, and came to his cavern home in the grey dawn, and told the good Centaur what he had seen. "O Chiron," he said, "unless your wisdom can help me, I am a lost man from this hour. That song I heard is yet ringing in my ears, and the eyes of that sea-maiden who looked me in the face will give me no rest until I see them again. Tell me how I may approach her and not be seen, for the longing I have to behold her is like a sword in my heart."

"Such pain," said Chiron gently, "must all endure, who, being mortal, look on immortal beauty face to face. Know, Peleus, that she of whom you speak is the youngest and fairest of the daughters of Nereus, the aged Sea-King. Her father, named her Thetis, which means 'Spell-Maiden,' because he knew she would cast a spell of longing upon gods and men. Now, unless you break that spell, you will pine away and die, like the luckless sailors who come to the Isle of the Sirens and listen to their singing. But I will tell you what you must do. Before moonrise to-night hide yourself behind some rock upon the shore, and, when the sea-maidens come, watch until Thetis is so near you that you can seize her in your arms. Then hold her fast until she speaks to you, for when she speaks the spell will break. Remember that the sea-people have many strange powers, but beware, whatever happens, that you do not let her go."

Peleus did as Chiron bade him, and, as Thetis went dancing by, he sprang out from his rock and threw his arms about her. Again, at her sudden cry, did all the other sisters flounce into the waves, never pausing in their flight till they reached their father's hall. But this time the youngest sister came not home with the rest. Peleus felt the sea-maiden tremble for a moment in his strong arms, and then she began to struggle with such violence that he marvelled at the force of her slender body. "Speak to me, Thetis," he cried, "speak but one word, and I will let you go." But Thetis only struggled the more wildly. Silently then they wrestled together in the moonlight, until Peleus began to feel his strength go from him, and his breath came thick and fast. The white limbs of the sea-maiden seemed to grow colder and colder to his touch, so that a shiver ran through him, and he closed his eyes, still clinging desperately to her writhing form. And then, with horror, he felt that form as it were melting in his grasp; he looked again at what he held, and it was no maiden, but a great sea-snake, ringed with green and purple, coiling this way and that to twist itself free. Only its eyes were the eyes of Thetis, and, seeing them, he gripped the creature still closer, though his heart stood still with terror. There came a cloud across the face of the moon, and in the dark those eyes seemed turning into balls of pale green fire. His hands no longer clutched the slippery coils of a serpent, but something furry and sleek; the moon breaking from the cloud showed him the form of a black panther. Yet his heart did not wholly fail him, though the panther snarled fearsomely and drove its sharp claws into his side. As blood-drops from the wound fell on the panther's glossy fur, Peleus could feel it tremble; for one instant it lay still in his arms, and in that instant he cried once more, "Speak to me, Thetis!" but now it gave a spring that well-nigh made him lose his hold, and he tripped over a stone and fell headlong. Furiously struggled the panting beast as they rolled upon the sand, hither and thither it dragged him while still he held on grimly, setting his teeth and straining every muscle in a last despairing effort. Its form seemed to swell and change colour before his failing eyes; surely now it was a huge tawny thing he fought with, and his fingers were locked in a shaggy mane! All at once the hollow roar of a lion rent the silence; he saw its gleaming fangs and felt them fasten on his arm. "This is the end of me," he thought, but he would not let go. Gathering all his strength he seized it by the throat with his other hand, to strangle it if he could. The lion, half-throttled, shook its mighty head, and bounded madly towards the water's edge, carrying Peleus along with it. He lost his footing again on a seaweed-covered rock, and, falling heavily, lay there stunned.

When he came to himself, his face was wet with sea-water; the moon was down, and at first he could only see that shadowy form crouched near. Still dazed, he sat up, and lifted his arm to look at something, long and brown and lustrous, in his clenched hand. Was it a lock of the lion's mane, or a ribbon of sea-wee? "You are pulling my hair," said a soft voice close by, and at that sound Peleus burst into tears of joy.

The sun had risen out of the eastern sea, but the dew lay yet in myriads of diamond drops upon the upland lawns, when Peleus and Thetis, hand in hand, began to climb the mountain path that led across them into the green forest. They had sat till daybreak by the grey lapping waves, for when the spell was broken, it seemed that the Sea-King's daughter had many things to say to the mortal how had conquered her. She told him how her people have the power, if any take them captive, of changing their shape three times, but if they fail to break free in the third shape, they must return to their own; and how, when she quitted the form of a lion, she had thought to plunge into the sea, but could not because, in his swoon, his hand was still clenched upon her hair. And how, even as she wounded him in her struggle, a strange new anguish came upon her at the sight of his blood, so that she longed to speak, but the wild sea-nature in her locked her lips.

"Then, Peleus," she said, "as I watched you lying there so pale, with shut eyes, I thought, 'This is death, of which I have heard tell, but never saw till now,' and it seemed to me so cruel a thing to die, and look no more upon the sunlight, that I, who had never wept, shed bitter tears upon your face."

"Was it your tears I felt?" said Peleus, "and not the salt sea-spray? O Thetis, may they be the last, as they were the first, to fall from your eyes." But, alas! they were not the last, nor the most bitter.

Now, as they talked together, it was as if they had known each other always, and now were met again after long absence, such joy they had in the sight and speech of one another. And when Peleus said, "I can never leave you again, Thetis," she answered, "There is no need, for I am happier with you than I have ever been before." "Come then," said he, "I will bring you to the cave of the good Centaur, who is to me as a father." And he told how Chiron had saved his life from the men of King Acastus, and all else that he had done for him. "But now," he said, "I owe Chiron my life twice over, for had he not sent me to gather sea-poppies, I might never have seen you, and had he not counselled me to hold you fast whatever befell, surely I must have let you go, and then my heart would have gone with you under the sea, and I have perished in my despair."

Thetis smiled, and as they left the beach, she stooped and gathered a handful of the yellow poppies, saying, "Let me bring these flowers to Chiron, since it was through me that you went back to him empty-handed."

So they went on together into the heart of the forest, and ever as they went, the sea-maiden looked about her and cried out for pleasure like a child at the wonderful new things she saw, and the new music that she heard among the boughs. She thought, indeed, that it was the trees she heard singing; for though she could see the birds flit through the branches, she did not know they were not dumb, like the flocks of painted fishes that hovered among the coral groves of her own garden. She wondered, too, that the wild flowers would not uncurl their petals when she stroked them, like the sea-anemones, and because nothing has any scent under the sea, the wood-violets and little wild hyacinths puzzled her very much. "I think these flowers at least can sing," she said to Peleus, "although you say the trees cannot, for something comes from them like strange soft music, only, instead of hearing it, I seem to breathe it."

The only thing that did not surprise her filled Peleus in his turn with great wonder; every bird and beast would come to her when she called it, ringdoves and woodpeckers came fluttering round her, the baby rabbits scuttled to her feet, and even the busy squirrels hurried down from the tree-tops to look at her with wise bright eyes. "Little brother" or "little sister" she called them all, for she knew none of their names, till Peleus told her. At noon they rested, and drank of a spring that flowed from under a mossy rock, and in an oak hard by, where bees were coming and going, Peleus found a great store of honey, and Thetis thought the honeycomb more delicious fare than the food of the gods.

Towards evening they came to the cave, and the Centaur met them upon the threshold. "This is the Sea-King's daughter, O Chiron," said Peleus, "and she had brought you the yellow poppies."

"That is well, my son," said the Centaur, with his grave, kind smile, "for I see that you have need of the salve which I was preparing for you." And at these words the sea-maiden looked at the wounded arm of Peleus, and hid her face in her hands. But Chiron laid his hand on her bent head and asked her, "Are you content, daughter of Nereus, to abide with this mortal, whom you have followed hither?" Then she looked up and said, "I am content. Where he dwells, I will dwell, and where he goes, I will go. Though he is a mortal man, and must bear the lot of men, will not the high gods be gracious to one who is fair and noble as themselves?"

"The gods," answered Chiron, "are well pleased, O Thetis, that you should wed this youth, for they desire to honour him to the utmost, because he has been found faithful and true of heart. Nay, more, it is their pleasure to come as guests to your marriage-feast, and ere long they will be here. It is the night of the full moon, and happiest are the bridals on which she looks down in all her splendour. Come within, my children; the sun sinks apace, and Philyra and Chariclo wait to array the bride."

Then they went in, and saw that Chiron had made ready a great feast, and they marvelled at his foreseeing of what had befallen. As the sun set behind the hills, dim shapes began to move rustling through the silent woods, and the lights of pine-torches twinkled in the gloom of leaf-canopied aisles. Peleus, whose tired limbs Chiron had bathed and anointed with the healing balm, came to the doorway, and looked forth into the gathering dusk. He saw the lights, which drew slowly nearer, and heard a noise as of a herd of deer pattering over the fallen leaves, and above it the sound of wild, sweet music. Soon he was aware of a strange company coming towards him, with torches and with garlands, playing on pipes of reed, and dancing as they came. It was a troop of Fauns, he knew, for he had once or twice caught sight in the forest of one of those shy creatures, like a beautiful sunburnt boy, but goat-footed, and with curved horns peeping out from the curls on his brow. And now, from the grey stems of the great trees around came gliding the tree-fairies, the lovely Dryads, one of whom dwelt in every tree, and had her life bound up with its life, so that when it fell she was no more. There came also, following the piping of the Fauns, whatever beast or bird is awake by night; owls with solemn eyes, and prowling foxes, and a wolf with her cubs, and a lion, that rolled at Peleus' feet like a great dog. When all were gathered about the cavern-door, the first beams of the May moon lit up the open space before it as she rose above the tree-tops. Then suddenly the air was filled with melody so divine that the Fauns played no more, but threw down their pipes and listened with awe-struck faces. Louder grew the strain, as of harps and voices mingled, and now through the clear heaven above rolled a peal of thunder, and a trembling shook the ground, while a great voice cried aloud, "We are come, O Chiron, to the marriage of the Sea-King's daughter." At that voice the Fauns and Dryads bowed themselves to the ground, and Peleus also. He heard the Centaur answer from the threshold, "Hail, Lords of heaven and sea, enter this my dwelling, for all things are ready," and lifting up his eyes, he saw before him a throng of bright-robed forms, and in the midst of them two kings, glorious to look upon. These cast gracious glances on him as they passed into the cave, while the celestial chant rang out again from the lips of their followers, mingled with the clear harmonies of the golden lyre that one among them played upon. Last of that company came that same shepherd lad whom Peleus had seen three days ago, but now transfigured by the bloom and radiance of a god, so that he knew him to be Hermes. The messenger of the Immortals now took him by the hand, bidding him hail, and they went in together after the rest. The great and lofty cavern-chamber was ablaze with torchlights, and the heavenly guests were seated in a half-circle on the rock-hewn bench that ran round its upper end, tables covered with all manner of woodland fare being set before them. In the highest place, between Zeus and Poseidon, sat the Sea-King's daughter, veiled with a veil of silvery sheen; it was woven out of gossamer and moonbeams by the forest spiders, who weave all the robes for the Dryads. Hermes led Peleus through the hall and placed him beside her, while all the Immortals gave him greeting in joyous tones. And now the feast went forward with mirth and laughter and rejoicing, and the gods praised Chiron's good cheer, the venison and oaten cakes and mountain-honey, and drank the wine he poured for them into the carved beechwood bowls. Peleus was glad to see that the good Centaur had made the forest guests welcome also; the Fauns were feasting merrily, couched on deerskins at the lower end of the cavern, and all the beasts and birds had their share of such food as they liked best. As for the Dryads, they ate only honey, and drank a wine that the Centaur had brewed from elder-blossom. When all had their fill of banqueting, Apollo took up his lyre and played, while the violet-crowned Muses rose up and sang together. First they sang the praise of Zeus their father, lord of all, and next of the lovely bride, the pearl of the sea, whom the gods had bestowed on Peleus for his exceeding great reward. The youth blushed deeply as he listened, for now they told of his coming to the house of Acastus, the false Queen's love for him, and how he was faithful to the King, his host. Then, as Apollo struck a deeper chord from the pealing lyre, his own voice began to lead the choral song, chanting words of prophecy. For he, the minstrel of the gods, is also their seer, having received from Themis herself that gift of divining which Earth, her mother, gave her. So now, with wide eyes gazing before him, as though he saw a vision, the god sang thus of the days to come. A wondrous child, the son of Peleus and Thetis, shall be reared in this cave by Chiron's fostering care. That child, even from six summers old, shall hurl his small javelin with true aim and godlike strength at bear and lion that prowl near the cavern's mouth, and drag their still panting carcases to the Centaur's feet. And Artemis, goddess of the chase, and valiant Athena, will come many a time to watch unseen those feats of the little hunter. But when the boy, trained and taught by the wise Centaur in all noble ways, comes to the prime of his glorious youth, then, in the company of princely warriors, he shall cross the seas and do battle with mailed hosts beneath the walls of a far city, and win himself an everlasting name. For, ages after that city has fallen amid flames and slaughter, the lips of a mortal minstrel, poor and blind, will sing the deeds of the son of Thetis in such a deathless lay that his memory shall endure till the end of time.

The song ceased, and all who heard it sat awhile in silence, musing on that prophecy. Then Zeus arose, and said, "The song of Apollo is his marriage-gift to Peleus and to Thetis; now will I declare what is mine. Peleus, in the strength I will give him, shall overthrow with his single spear Acastus and all his soldiery, and reign as king in his stead. Moreover, to him and his children's children I will give wide kingdoms in other lands of Greece."

Then said Poseidon, "And I will make Thetis queen of the coasts and headlands and all the bays around them, where this land borders on the seas of her ancient home, so shall she return as a great princess, when she visits her father Nereus."

The rest of the gods also made promise of gifts and each of the goddesses decked the Sea-King's daughter with a golden necklace or girdle or bracelet of her own, wrought by the cunning hand of Hephaestus, the divine craftsman. It was now midnight, and the torches began to burn low in the vaulted chamber; once more Apollo's lyre was heard, but now he played a stately marching measure, and all the guests passed singing together out of the cavern. Peleus and Thetis rose up and followed them into the moonlight, for Chiron said, "Go now, my children, with those who will lead you to the home prepared for you." Now when they came forth upon the lawn, the heaven-dwelling gods were gone; only the Fauns, with relighted torches, and the Dryads, with hands full of flowers, thronged about them with laughter and with greetings. And so, led by the forest people, to the sound of their sweet wild pipings, they went together into the green heart of the woods. The owls hooted softly overhead as they went along, and the wolf cubs trotted beside them, till they came to the hunting-lodge which Peleus had built for himself of unbarked fir-logs, and thatched with reeds and moss. The door stood open, and they saw a wood-fire burning on the hearth within. Then, because he knew that a bride must not set foot upon the door-sill when she is brought home, Peleus lifted the Sea-King's daughter across the threshold in his arms, and they two were left alone.