But then befell a dreadful thing; for she grew pale, and trembled, and had well-nigh fallen upon the ground, scarce struggling to her chair.

And an old woman that was of her attendants set up a great cry, thinking that Pan or some other god had smitten her.  But when she saw that she foamed at her mouth, and that her eyes rolled, and that there was no blood left in her, she ran to tell Jason of the matter, and another hastened to the King’s chamber.

And then there came upon the maiden a greater woe than at the first, for there came forth a marvellous stream of fire from the crown of gold that was about her head, and all the while the robe devoured her flesh.  Then she rose from her seat, and ran through the house, tossing her hair, and seeking to cast away the crown.  But this she could not, for it clung to her very closely.  And at the last she fell dead upon the ground, sorely disfigured so that none but her father only had known her.  And all feared to touch her, lest they should be devoured also of the fire.

But when the King was come, he cast himself upon the dead body, saying, “O my child! what God hath so smitten thee?  Why hast thou left me in my old age?”

And when he would have lifted himself, the robe held him fast, and he could not, though he struggled sorely.  So he also died; and the two, father and daughter, lay together dead upon the ground.

Now in the meanwhile the old man that had the charge of the boys led them back to the house of the mother, and bade her rejoice, for that they were released from the sentence of banishment, and that some day she should also return by their means.

But the woman wept and answered doubtfully.  Then she bade him go into the house and prepare for the lads what they might need for the day.  And when he was departed she said, “O my sons, I go to a strange land and shall not see you come to fair estate and fortune; nor shall I make preparations for your marriage when you have grown to manhood.  Vainly did I bear you with pangs of travail; vainly did I rear you; vainly did I hope that ye should cherish me in my old age, and lay me out for my burial.  O my children, why do ye so regard me?  Why do ye laugh at me that shall never laugh again?  Nay, I cannot do the deed.  When I see the eyes of my children how bright they are, I cannot do it.  And yet shall my enemies triumph over me and laugh me to scorn?  Not so; I will dare it all.”  And she bade her children go into the house.  But after a space she spake again, “O my heart, do not this deed.  Spare my children!  They will gladden thee in the land of thy banishment.”  And then again, after a space, “But no, it is otherwise ordained, and there is no escape.  And I know that by this time the King’s daughter hath the robe upon her and the crown about her head, and what I do I must do quickly.”

Then she called to the boys again and said, “O my children! give me your right hands.  O hands and mouths that I love, and faces fair exceedingly.  Be ye happy—­but not here.  All that is here your father hath taken from you.  O dear regard, O soft, soft flesh, O sweet, sweet breath of my children!  Go, my children, go; I cannot look upon your faces any more.”