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"Those are the valleys of the Kladeos and the Alpheios." "Yes." "And that far-off Isle is the Island of Zante." "Of Zante," she repeated. After a long pause she said: "You know those words somewhere in the Bible 'the wilderness and the solitary places'?" "Yes." "I've always loved them, just those words. Even when I was quite a child I liked to say them.
Old Kronion rocked and sent a landslide down over the treasure houses. Kladeos rushed out of his course and poured sand over the sacred place. That earthquake frightened the people away, and they left Olympia alone again. Hermes was still there, but he looked out upon ruins. Victory lay in a heap of fragments. Apollo was there, but broken and buried in earth with the other people of the pediments.
Many another great form on its high pillar seemed standing in the deep sky above the world. The little pool in the pebbly river had stars in the bottom. "This Kladeos is a savage little river in the spring," said Glaucon. "It tries to tear away our Olympia or drown it or cover it with sand. You see, men have had to fence it in with stone walls."
They can wander on the banks of the Kladeos and the Alpheios. They can climb Mount Kronion and see the whole little plain and imagine it gay with tents and moving people. All these things are interesting to those who like the old Greek life. But most people make the long journey only to see Hermes.
Kladeos piled up sand fifteen feet deep. Alpheios swung out of its banks and washed away the race-course for chariots. Under the rains and floods the sun-dried bricks of Hera's walls melted again into clay and covered the floor. Again the earth quaked, and Hermes fell forward on his face, and little was left of the beautiful old Olympia. Grass and flowers crept in from the sides.
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