All came on her so suddenly. A
moment since, she was alone on this island. Theseus had left her. Her
lover had crept from her couch as she lay sleeping, and had sailed
away with his comrades, noiselessly, before the sun rose and woke her.
>From the top of yonder hillock she had seen the last sail of his
argosy fading over the sea-line. Vainly she had waved her arms, and
vainly her cries had echoed through all the island. She had run
distraught through the valleys, the goats scampering before her to
their own rocks. She had strayed, wildly weeping, along the shore, and
the very sky had seemed to mock her. At length, spent with sorrow and
wan with her tears, she had lain upon the sand. Above her the cliff
sloped gently down to the shore, and all around her was the hot
noontide, and no sound save the rustling of the sea over the sand.
Theseus had left her. The sea had taken him from her. Let the sea take
her in its tide.... Suddenly--what was that?--she leapt up and
listened. Voices, voices, the loud clash of cymbals! She looked round
for some place to hide in. Too late! Some man (goat or man) came
bounding towards her down the cliff. Another came after him. Then
others, a whole company, and with them many naked, abominable women,
laughing and shrieking and waving leafy wands, as they rushed down
towards her.
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