Tanglewood Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne Read Free Book Online

more for thee than a granite rock cares for the little
flower that grows in one of its crevices. But my father, King Aegeus,
and my dear mother, Aethra, and all the fathers and mothers in Athens,
and all the sons and daughters too, will love and honor thee as their
benefactress. Come with us, then; for King Minos will be very angry when
he knows what thou hast done."
    Now, some low-minded people, who pretend to tell the story of Theseus
and Ariadne, have the face to say that this royal and honorable maiden
did really flee away, under cover of the night, with the young stranger
whose life she had preserved. They say, too, that Prince Theseus (who
would have died sooner than wrong the meanest creature in the world)
ungratefully deserted Ariadne, on a solitary island, where the vessel
touched on its voyage to Athens. But, had the noble Theseus heard these
falsehoods, he would have served their slanderous authors as he served
the Minotaur! Here is what Ariadne answered, when the brave prince of
Athens besought her to accompany him:
    "No, Theseus," the maiden said, pressing his hand, and then drawing back
a step or two, "I cannot go with you. My father is old, and has nobody
but myself to love him. Hard as you think his heart is, it would break
to lose me. At first, King Minos will be angry; but he will soon forgive
his only child; and, by and by, he will rejoice, I know, that no more
youths and maidens must come from Athens to be devoured by the Minotaur.
I have saved you, Theseus, as much for my father's sake as for your own.
Farewell! Heaven bless you!"
    All this was so true, and so maiden-like, and was spoken with so sweet a
dignity, that Theseus would have blushed to urge her any longer.
Nothing remained for him, therefore, but to bid Ariadne an affectionate
farewell, and to go on board the vessel, and set sail.
    In a few moments the white foam was boiling up before their prow, as
Prince Theseus and his companions sailed out of the harbor, with
a whistling breeze behind them. Talus, the brazen giant, on his
never-ceasing sentinel's march, happened to be approaching that part of
the coast; and they saw him, by the glimmering of the moonbeams on his
polished surface, while he was yet a great way off. As the figure moved
like clockwork, however, and could neither hasten his enormous strides
nor retard them, he arrived at the port when they were just beyond the
reach of his club. Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland,
as his custom was, Talus attempted to strike a blow at the vessel,
and, overreaching himself, tumbled at full length into the sea, which
splashed high over his gigantic shape, as when an iceberg turns a
somerset. There he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by
means of brass had better go thither with a diving bell, and fish up
Talus.
    On the homeward voyage, the fourteen youths and damsels were in
excellent spirits, as you will easily suppose. They spent most of their
time in dancing, unless when the sidelong breeze made the deck slope
too much. In due season, they came within sight of the coast of Attica,
which was their native country. But here, I am grieved to tell you,
happened a sad misfortune.
    You will remember (what Theseus unfortunately forgot) that his father,
King Aegeus, had enjoined it upon him to hoist sunshiny sails, instead
of black ones, in case he should overcome the Minotaur, and return
victorious. In the joy of their success, however, and amidst the sports,
dancing, and other merriment, with which these young folks wore away the
time, they never once thought whether their sails were black, white, or
rainbow colored, and, indeed, left it entirely to the mariners whether
they had any sails at all. Thus the vessel returned, like a raven, with
the same sable wings that had wafted her away. But poor King Aegeus, day
after day, infirm as he was, had clambered to the summit of a cliff that
overhung the sea, and there sat watching for Prince Theseus, homeward
bound; and no sooner