Tanglewood Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne

into tears, and, for a long time, refused to believe that
his dear mother was now to be taken from him. But Telephassa reasoned
with him, and kissed him, and at length made him discern that it was
better for her spirit to pass away out of the toil, the weariness, and
grief, and disappointment which had burdened her on earth, ever since
the child was lost. He therefore repressed his sorrow, and listened to
her last words.
    "Dearest Cadmus," said she, "thou hast been the truest son that ever
mother had, and faithful to the very last. Who else would have borne
with my infirmities as thou hast! It is owing to thy care, thou
tenderest child, that my grave was not dug long years ago, in some
valley, or on some hillside, that lies far, far behind us. It is enough.
Thou shalt wander no more on this hopeless search. But, when thou hast
laid thy mother in the earth, then go, my son, to Delphi, and inquire of
the oracle what thou shalt do next."
    "O mother, mother," cried Cadmus, "couldst thou but have seen my sister
before this hour!"
    "It matters little now," answered Telephassa, and there was a smile upon
her face. "I go now to the better world, and, sooner or later, shall
find my daughter there."
    I will not sadden you, my little hearers, with telling how Telephassa
died and was buried, but will only say, that her dying smile grew
brighter, instead of vanishing from her dead face; so that Cadmus left
convinced that, at her very first step into the better world, she had
caught Europa in her arms. He planted some flowers on his mother's
grave, and left them to grow there, and make the place beautiful, when
he should be far away.
    After performing this last sorrowful duty, he set forth alone, and took
the road towards the famous oracle of Delphi, as Telephassa had advised
him. On his way thither, he still inquired of most people whom he met
whether they had seen Europa; for, to say the truth, Cadmus had grown so
accustomed to ask the question, that it came to his lips as readily as a
remark about the weather. He received various answers. Some told him one
thing, and some another. Among the rest, a mariner affirmed, that, many
years before, in a distant country, he had heard a rumor about a white
bull, which came swimming across the sea with a child on his back,
dressed up in flowers that were blighted by the sea water. He did not
know what had become of the child or the bull; and Cadmus suspected,
indeed, by a queer twinkle in the mariner's eyes, that he was putting a
joke upon him, and had never really heard anything about the matter.
    Poor Cadmus found it more wearisome to travel alone than to bear all
his dear mother's weight, while she had kept him company. His heart, you
will understand, was now so heavy that it seemed impossible, sometimes,
to carry it any farther. But his limbs were strong and active, and well
accustomed to exercise. He walked swiftly along, thinking of King Agenor
and Queen Telephassa, and his brothers, and the friendly Thasus, all of
whom he had left behind him, at one point of his pilgrimage or another,
and never expected to see them any more. Full of these remembrances, he
came within sight of a lofty mountain, which the people thereabouts told
him was called Parnassus. On the slope of Mount Parnassus was the famous
Delphi, whither Cadmus was going.
    This Delphi was supposed to be the very midmost spot of the whole world.
The place of the oracle was a certain cavity in the mountain side, over
which, when Cadmus came thither, he found a rude bower of branches.
It reminded him of those which he had helped to build for Phoenix and
Cilix, and afterwards for Thasus. In later times, when multitudes of
people came from great distances to put questions to the oracle, a
spacious temple of marble was erected over the spot. But in the days of
Cadmus, as I have told you, there was only this rustic bower, with its
abundance of green foliage, and a tuft of shrubbery, that ran wild over
the mysterious hole in the