Athens during the night.

Beneath, the city was full of animation. Around the big fountain at
Poikile, young girls in white dresses drew water, singing, laughing,
or defending themselves from the boys, who threw over them fetters
made of ivy and wild vine. The others, having already drawn the water,
with the amphorae poised on their shoulders, were turned homeward,
light and graceful as immortal nymphs.

A light breeze blowing from the Attic valley carried to the ears of
the two gods the sounds of laughter, singing, kissing. Apollo, in
whose eyes nothing under the sun was fairer than a woman, turned to
Hermes and said:

"O Maya's son, how beautiful are the Athenian women!"

"And virtuous too, my Radiant," answered Hermes; "they are under
Pallas' tutelage."

The Silver-arrowed god became silent, and listening looked into space.
In the mean while the twilight was slowly quenched, movement gradually
stopped. Scythian slaves shut the gates, and finally all became quiet.
The Ambrosian night threw on the Acropolis, city, and environs, a dark
veil embroidered with stars.

But the dusk did not last long. Soon from the Archipelago appeared the
pale Selene, and began to sail like a silvery boat in the heavenly
space. And then the walls of the Acropolis lighted again, only they
beamed now with a pale-green light, and looked even more like a vision
in a dream.