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‘What? what?’ exclaimed the impatient deity.

‘A Goddess!’ replied the King.

‘Wheugh!’ whistled Cupid. ‘What! has my mischievous mother been indulging you with an innocent flirtation?’

‘Yes; but it produced no effect upon me.’

‘You have a stout heart, then. Perhaps you have been reading poetry with Minerva, and are caught in one of her Platonic man-traps.’

‘She set one, but I broke away.’

‘You have a stout leg, then. But where are you, where are you? Is it Hebe? It can hardly be Diana, she is so cold. Is it a Muse, or is it one of the Graces?’

Ixion again shook his head.

‘Come, my dear fellow,’ said Cupid, quite in a confidential tone, ‘you have told enough to make further reserve mere affectation. Ease your heart at once, and if I can assist you, depend upon my exertions.’

‘Beneficent God!’ exclaimed Ixion, ‘if I ever return to Larissa, the brightest temple in Greece shall hail thee for its inspiring deity. I address thee with all the confiding frankness of a devoted votary. Know, then, the heroine of my reverie was no less a personage than the Queen of Heaven herself!’

‘Juno! by all that is sacred!’ shouted Cupid. ‘I am here,’ responded a voice of majestic melody. The stately form of the Queen of Heaven advanced from a neighbouring bower. Ixion stood with his eyes fixed upon the ground, with a throbbing heart and burning cheeks. Juno stood motionless, pale, and astounded. The God of Love burst into excessive laughter.

‘A pretty pair!’ he exclaimed, fluttering between both, and laughing in their faces. ‘Truly a pretty pair! Well! I see I am in your way. Good-bye!’ And so saying, the God pulled a couple of arrows from his quiver, and with the rapidity of lightning shot one in the respective breasts of the Queen of Heaven and the King of Thessaly.

The amethystine twilight of Olympus died away. The stars blazed with tints of every hue. Ixion and Juno returned to the palace. She leant upon his arm; her eyes were fixed upon the ground; they were in sight of the gorgeous pile, and yet she had not spoken. Ixion, too, was silent, and gazed with abstraction upon the glowing sky.

Suddenly, when within a hundred yards of the portal, Juno stopped, and looking up into the face of Ixion with an irresistible smile, she said, ‘I am sure you cannot now refuse to tell me what the Queen of Mesopotamia’s peacock’s tail was made of!’

‘It is impossible now,’ said Ixion. ‘Know, then, beautiful Goddess, that the tail of the Queen of Mesopotamia’s peacock was made of some plumage she had stolen from the wings of Cupid.’

‘And what was the reason that prevented you from telling me before?’

‘Because, beautiful Juno, I am the most discreet of men, and respect the secret of a lady, however trifling.’

‘I am glad to hear that,’ replied Juno, and they re-entered the palace.

Mercury met Juno and Ixion in the gallery leading to the grand banqueting hall.

‘I was looking for you,’ said the God, shaking his head. ‘Jove is in a sublime rage. Dinner has been ready this hour.’

The King of Thessaly and the Queen of Heaven exchanged a glance and entered the saloon. Jove looked up with a brow of thunder, but did not condescend to send forth a single flash of anger. Jove looked up and Jove looked down. All Olympus trembled as the Father of Gods and men resumed his soup. The rest of the guests seemed nervous and reserved, except Cupid, who said immediately to Juno, ‘Your Majesty has been detained?’

‘I fell asleep in a bower reading Apollo’s last poem,’ replied Juno. ‘I am lucky, however, in finding a companion in my negligence. Ixion, where have you been?’

‘Take a glass of nectar, Juno,’ said Cupid, with eyes twinkling with mischief; ‘and perhaps Ixion will join us.’

This was the most solemn banquet ever celebrated in Olympus. Everyone seemed out of humour or out of spirits. Jupiter spoke only in monosyllables of suppressed rage, that sounded like distant thunder. Apollo whispered to Minerva. Mercury never opened his lips, but occasionally exchanged significant glances with Ganymede. Mars compensated, by his attentions to Venus, for his want of conversation. Cupid employed himself in asking disagreeable questions. At length the Goddesses retired. Mercury exerted himself to amuse Jove, but the Thunderer scarcely deigned to smile at his best stories. Mars picked his teeth, Apollo played with his rings, Ixion was buried in a profound reverie.