As though pursued by the Furies, the girl sprang to her feet. “Miserable Europa,” she cried, “do you not hear your father’s voice? He is far away, but still he will curse you unless you put an end to your shameful life. Do you not see him pointing to that ash tree, on which you can hang yourself by your girdle, or that steep cliff, from which you can plunge to an unquiet grave in the stormy sea? Or do you prefer to be the concubine of a barbarian lord and slave for him day after day, spinning your wool, you, the daughter of a great and powerful king?”

In this way she tormented herself with the thought of death without finding the courage to die. Suddenly, she heard a low mocking whisper, and fearing an eavesdropper, looked over her shoulder in alarm. There, bright with unearthly radiance, stood Aphrodite and beside her Eros, her son, with lowered bow. A smile lingered on the lips of the goddess. “Calm your anger and rebel no longer,” she said. “The bull you loathe will come and hold out his horns so that you may break them. It is I who sent you the dream you had in your father’s house. Be comforted, Europa! You were carried off by a god. You are destined to be the mortal wife of Zeus, the Unconquerable. And your name shall be immortal, for from this time on the continent which received you shall be called Europe!”

CADMUS

CADMUS was Europa’s brother, a son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia. When Zeus, in the shape of a bull, had carried off Europa, Agenor sent Cadmus and his brothers in search of her, telling them not to come back until they had accomplished their quest. For a long time Cadmus wandered through the world in vain, unable to find her whom the wiles of Zeus had spirited away. He feared his father’s anger at his failure, and so—not wishing to return to his own country—he consulted the oracle of Phoebus Apollo and asked what land he should dwell in the rest of his life. And the sun-god replied: “In a lonely meadow you will find a heifer who has never borne the yoke. Follow her, and where she lies down to rest in the grass, in that place you shall build a city and call it Thebes.”

Scarcely had Cadmus left the Castalian Fountain, the site of Apollo’s oracle, when he came to a green pasture, and in it grazed a heifer whose neck bore no marks of the yoke. With a silent prayer to Phoebus, he slowly followed in the creature’s tracks. She waded the ford of Cephisus and had just crossed a wide tract of land when she stopped, pointed her horns at the sky, and filled the air with her lowing. Then she glanced back at Cadmus and his retinue and finally lay down in the thick-growing tender grass.

Full of gratitude, Cadmus prostrated himself and kissed the alien earth. Then he prepared to offer sacrifice to Zeus and sent his servants in search of a living spring to provide water for the libation. In that place, there was an age-old wood which had never been thinned by the axe. In the very heart of it rocks, joined with a network of bush and underbrush, formed a low vault over a gorge running with clear water. Hidden in this cavern was a wicked dragon. His scarlet crest shone from afar; his eyes flashed flame; his body was swollen with venom, and three tongues flickered from his mouth which was armed with a triple row of teeth. The Phoenicians had only just entered the grove and let their pitcher down into the water, when the dragon darted his azure head out of the cavern and uttered a fearful hiss. The urns slipped from their hands, and the blood froze in their veins. The dragon, meanwhile, had coiled himself into scaly folds, drew back for the thrust, and, reared to half his height, looked down upon the wood. Then he lunged forward at the Phoenicians, killed some with his fangs, strangled others in his coils, and destroyed the rest by his poisonous spittle or the mere fetid breath from his mouth.

Cadmus could not imagine what was keeping his servants. At last he went in search of them.