Myths That Every Child Should Know | Page 6

in every one.
"But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know," observed one of the
damsels, "has a hundred heads!"
"Nevertheless," replied the stranger, "I would rather fight two such
dragons than a single hydra. For, as fast as I cut off a head, two others

grew in its place; and, besides, there was one of the heads that could
not possibly be killed, but kept biting as fiercely as ever, long after it
was cut off. So I was forced to bury it under a stone, where it is
doubtless alive to this very day. But the hydra's body, and its eight
other heads, will never do any further mischief."
The damsels, judging that the story was likely to last a good while, had
been preparing a repast of bread and grapes, that the stranger might
refresh himself in the intervals of his talk. They took pleasure in
helping him to this simple food; and, now and then, one of them would
put a sweet grape between her rosy lips, lest it should make him bashful
to eat alone.
The traveller proceeded to tell how he had chased a very swift stag for
a twelvemonth together, without ever stopping to take breath, and had
at last caught it by the antlers, and carried it home alive. And he had
fought with a very odd race of people, half horses and half men, and
had put them all to death, from a sense of duty, in order that their ugly
figures might never be seen any more. Besides all this, he took to
himself great credit for having cleaned out a stable.
"Do you call that a wonderful exploit?" asked one of the young
maidens, with a smile. "Any clown in the country has done as much!"
"Had it been an ordinary stable," replied the stranger, "I should not
have mentioned it. But this was so gigantic a task that it would have
taken me all my life to perform it, if I had not luckily thought of turning
the channel of a river through the stable door. That did the business in a
very short time!"
Seeing how earnestly his fair auditors listened, he next told them how
he had shot some monstrous birds, and had caught a wild bull alive and
let him go again, and had tamed a number of very wild horses, and had
conquered Hippolyta, the warlike queen of the Amazons. He mentioned,
likewise, that he had taken off Hippolyta's enchanted girdle and had
given it to the daughter of his cousin, the king.
"Was it the girdle of Venus," inquired the prettiest of the damsels,

"which makes women beautiful?"
"No," answered the stranger. "It had formerly been the sword belt of
Mars; and it can only make the wearer valiant and courageous."
"An old sword belt!" cried the damsel, tossing her head. "Then I should
not care about having it!"
"You are right," said the stranger.
Going on with his wonderful narrative, he informed the maidens that as
strange an adventure as ever happened was when he fought with
Geryon, the six-legged man. This was a very odd and frightful sort of
figure, as you may well believe. Any person, looking at his tracks in the
sand or snow, would suppose that three sociable companions had been
walking along together. On hearing his footsteps at a little distance, it
was no more than reasonable to judge that several people must be
coming. But it was only the strange man Geryon clattering onward,
with his six legs!
Six legs, and one gigantic body! Certainly, he must have been a very
queer monster to look at; and, my stars, what a waste of shoe leather!
When the stranger had finished the story of his adventures, he looked
around at the attentive faces of the maidens.
"Perhaps you may have heard of me before," said he, modestly. "My
name is Hercules!"
"We had already guessed it," replied the maidens; "for your wonderful
deeds are known all over the world. We do not think it strange, any
longer, that you should set out in quest of the golden apples of the
Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with flowers!"
Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and mighty
shoulders, so that the lion's skin was almost entirely covered with roses.
They took possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it about
with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms that not a

finger's breadth of its oaken substance could be seen. It looked all like a
huge bunch of flowers. Lastly, they joined hands, and danced around
him, chanting words which became poetry of their own accord, and
grew into a choral song, in honour of the illustrious Hercules.
And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other