And I was never a consistent collector. There are reeds everywhere, you fortunate goat-foot, but even in Olympus I was the creature of a fastidious selection. PAN. The current of the thick and punctual blood never left me liable to the distractions of choice. PHOEBUS. I congratulate you, Pan, upon your temperament, and I recommend to you a further pursuit of the attainable. [PAN _makes a profound obeisance and disappears in the woodland_. PHOEBUS _watches him depart, and then turns to the moon_.] PHOEBUS [_alone_]. His familiarity was not distasteful to me. It reminded me of days out hunting, when I have come suddenly upon him at the edge of the watercourse, and have shared his melons and his conversation. I anticipate for him some not unagreeable experiences. The lower order of divinities will probably adapt themselves with ease to our new conditions. They despaired the most suddenly, with wringing of hands as we raced to the sea, with interminable babblings and low moans and screams, as they clustered on the deck of that extraordinary vessel. But the science of our new life must be to forget or to remember. We must live in the past or forego the past. For Pan and his likes I conceive that it will largely resolve itself into a question of temperature--of temperature and of appetite. That orb is of a sinister appearance, but to do it justice it looks heated. My sister had a passion for coldness; she would never permit me to lend her any of my warmth. I cannot say that it is chilly here to-night. I am agreeably surprised. [_The veiled figure flits across again, and_ PAN _once more crosses in close pursuit_.] PHOEBUS [_as they vanish_]. What an amiable vivacity! Yes; the lower order of divinities will be happy, for they will forget. We, on the contrary, have the privilege of remembering. It is only the mediocre spirits, that cannot quite forget nor clearly remember, which will have neither the support of instinct nor the solace of a vivid recollection. [_He seats himself. A noise of laughter rises from the marsh, and dies away. In the silence a bird sings._] PHOEBUS.