But she was poorly repaid, abandoned by the hero, and left brokenhearted. She eventually caught the attention of Dionysus, god of winemaking and grapes, and was whisked away to marry him.
In earlier times in this sort of position you'd have expected to find either Orpheus, charming the world with his music, or the universally popular wine god Bacchus.
Here is Mars, there's Bacchus with his wine cup, Pan piping on a silver dish... and now I've arrived at what looks like another pagan god, this time in mosaic.
And in a similar way it occurred that I became a Latinist because Friar Ange was taken by the watch and put into ecclesiastical penance for having knocked down a cutler under the arbour of the Little Bacchus.
She's also very chameleon-like, so she can be painted as a nun, or she can be painted as a bacchante, one of those women out tearing people to pieces up on the uplands of Thebes.
Dionysus is officially the god of wine, but wine itself is a weird sort of a concoction that can be both positive and negative, which is kind of how the god can be too.
No vivacious Bacchanalian flame leaped out of the pressed grape of Monsieur Defarge: but, a smouldering fire that burnt in the dark, lay hidden in the dregs of it.
They would finally collapse incomplete exhaustion, convinced that at the height of their frenzy, the spirit of Dionysus had entered their bodies, purifying them and conferring his own immortality upon their souls.