“And who are you?”said another of the women, stepping forward.

“I’m Mina.”she said cautiously.

“I am Calliope,”the woman said,beckoning her sisters forward.

A very serious young woman stepped forward, her slender finger pressed to her lip.”This is Polyhmnia,”Calliope said.

Another young woman, this one looking playful, stepped forward.”I am Erato. My sister need not introduce me, I hope,” she said,touching the wreath of myrtle and roses wound in her bright chestnut hair.

A third stepped forward, a smile on her face.”I am Euterpe, child,”she said,grasping Mina’s hand gently.

The fourth,as serious as the first,did not step forward,but said only,”I am Clio.”

“These two,”Calliope said,pointing to a young woman with a crown of cypress on her pitch-like hair and a woman holding a lyre,”are Melpomene and Terpischore.”

“And that is Urani,” she said, pointing to the sister looking up.”Forgive her for not greeting you.She never speaks.But none here are as important as you,my dear.”