The Spartan Twins | Page 7

must not open the box, lest
she lose all the blessings it contained.
"But she was curious. She wished to see with her own eyes what was in
it, and one day, when Epimetheus was away from home, she lifted the
corner of the lid! Out flew the gifts of the Gods! She tried her best to
close the lid again, but before she could do so, the blessings had flown
away in a bright cloud.
"Poor Pandora! She sat down beside the box and wept the very first
tears that were ever shed in this world. While she was weeping and
blaming herself for her disobedience and the trouble it had caused, she
heard a little voice, way down in the bottom of the box.
"'Don't cry, dear Pandora!' the little voice said. 'You can never be quite
unhappy when I am here, and I am always going to stay with you; I am
Hope.' So Pandora dried her tears, and no matter how full of sorrow the
world has been since, there has never been a time when Hope was gone.
If that time should ever come, the world would be a desolate place
indeed."
When he had finished the story, no one said anything at all for a minute,
and then Daphne looked up at the Stranger.
"Is that really the way all the troubles began?" she asked. "Because if it
isn't, I think it's mean to blame everything on poor Pandora."
"Why, Daphne!" said her Mother in a shocked voice; but the Stranger
only smiled.

"I should not be surprised if Epimetheus were to blame for a few things
himself," he said, stroking his beard. "Anyway, I'm sure he felt he
would rather have Pandora and all the troubles in the world than to live
without her, and men have felt the same way ever since."
"Well, then," began Daphne, her eyes shining like two blue sparks,
"why don't--?"
"Daphne! Daphne!" cried Lydia warningly. "You are talking too much
for a little girl."
The Stranger nodded kindly to Lydia. "Let her speak," he said. Daphne
spoke.
"Didn't Athena say Epimetheus would get tired of Pandora if she had
an empty head?"
"Yes," admitted the Stranger, "the story certainly runs that way."
"And have men felt like that ever since too?" Daphne asked.
"Yes, I think so," answered the Stranger. "Certainly women need
wisdom now as much as Pandora did."
"Then why don't they let us learn things the same as boys," gasped
Daphne, a little frightened at her own boldness. "Dion's always telling
me I can't do things or go to places because I am a girl. I want to know
things if I am a girl. I can't try for the Olympian games and I can't even
go to see them just because I am a girl." She stopped quite overcome.
Melas and Lydia and Dion were all too astonished to speak. Only the
Stranger did not seem shocked. He drew Daphne up beside him.
"My dear," he said, "a child can ask questions which even a
philosopher cannot answer. I do not know myself why the world feels
as it does, but it certainly has always seemed to be afraid to let women
know too much. It has always seemed to prefer they should have beauty
rather than brains."

"Yes, but," urged Daphne, "I don't see why I can't try for the games too,
when I am big enough. I can run just as fast as Dion and do everything
he can do."
Melas smiled. "Daphne is true to her Spartan blood," he said. "The girls
used to compete in the games at Sparta."
The Philosopher stroked Daphne's hair. "So your name is Daphne," he
said, smiling, "And you can run fast and you have golden hair! Did you
know it was to the fleet-footed nymph Daphne with golden hair that we
owe the victor's crown at the Olympian games, even though no woman
may wear it?"
Daphne shook her head. "I don't know what you mean," she said.
"I mean this," said the Stranger. "It is said that once upon a time Apollo
himself loved a beautiful nymph named Daphne. But Daphne did not
love Apollo even though he was a God, and when he pursued her she
ran away. She was as swift as the wind, but Apollo was still more swift,
and when she saw that she could not escape him by flight, she prayed
to her father, who was a river god, and, to protect her, he changed her
form by magic. Her arms became branches, her golden hair became
leaves, and her feet took root in the ground. When Apollo reached her
side, she was no longer a beautiful maiden, but a lovely laurel tree.
Apollo gathered some of the shining