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But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard a voice close beside
him.

“Perseus,” said the voice, “why are you sad?”

He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had hidden it, and,
behold! all alone as Perseus had supposed himself to be, there was a
stranger in the solitary place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and
remarkably shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders,
an odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in his hand,
and a short and very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was
exceedingly light and active in his figure, like a person much
accustomed to gymnastic exercises, and well able to leap or run. Above
all, the stranger had such a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect
(though it was certainly a little mischievous, into the bargain), that
Perseus could not help feeling his spirits grow livelier, as he gazed at
him. Besides, being really a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed
that anybody should have found him with tears in his eyes, like a timid
little school-boy, when, after all, there might be no occasion for
despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes, and answered the stranger pretty
briskly, putting on as brave a look as he could.

“I am not so very sad,” said he; “only thoughtful about an adventure
that I have undertaken.”

“Oho!” answered the stranger. “Well, tell me all about it, and possibly
I may be of service to you. I have helped a good many young men through
adventures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Perhaps you may
have heard of me. I have more names than one; but the name of
Quicksilver suits me as well as any other. Tell me what your trouble
is, and we will talk the matter over, and see what can be done.”

The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite a different mood
from his former one. He resolved to tell Quicksilver all his
difficulties, since he could not easily be worse off than he already
was, and, very possibly, his new friend might give him some advice that
would turn out well in the end. So he let the stranger know, in few
words, precisely what the case was;–how that King Polydeetes wanted the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful
Princess Hippodamia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him,
but was afraid of being turned into stone.

“And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver, with his mischievous
smile. “You would make a very handsome marble statue, it is true, and
it would be a considerable number of centuries before you crumbled away;
but, on the whole, one would rather be a young man for a few years, than
a stone image for a great many.”

“O, far rather!” exclaimed Perseus, with the tears again standing in his
eyes. “And, besides, what would my dear mother do, if her beloved son
were turned into a stone?”

“Well, well; let us hope that the affair will not turn out so very
badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encouraging tone. “I am the very
person to help you, if anybody can. My sister and myself will do our
utmost to bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as it now looks.”

“Your sister?” repeated Perseus.

“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. “She is very wise, I promise you;
and as for myself, I generally have all my wits about me, such as they
are. If you show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you
need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first of all, you
must polish your shield, till you can see your face in it as distinctly
as in a mirror.”