_Ternissa._ Oh! I had forgotten that I proposed to myself a trip as far up as the pinasters, to look at the precipice of Oreithyia. Come along! come along! how alert does the sea air make us! I seem to feel growing at my feet and shoulders the wings of Zethes or Calaeis. _Epicurus._ Leontion walks the nimblest to-day. _Ternissa._ To display her activity and strength, she runs before us. Sweet Leontion, how good she is! but she should have stayed for us: it would be in vain to try to overtake her. No, Epicurus! Mind! take care! you are crushing these little oleanders--and now the strawberry plants--the whole heap. Not I, indeed. What would my mother say, if she knew it? And Leontion! she will certainly look back. _Epicurus._ The fairest of the Eudaimones never look back: such are the Hours and Love, Opportunity and Leontion. _Ternissa._ How could you dare to treat me in this manner? I did not say again I hated anything. _Epicurus._ Forgive me! _Ternissa._ Violent creature! _Epicurus._ If tenderness is violence. Forgive me; and say you love me. _Ternissa._ All at once? could you endure such boldness? _Epicurus._ Pronounce it! whisper it. _Ternissa._ Go, go. Would it be proper? _Epicurus._ Is that sweet voice asking its heart or me? let the worthier give the answer. _Ternissa._ O Epicurus! you are very, very dear to me; and are the last in the world that would ever tell you were called so. FOOTNOTES: [7] The Attic month of Puanepsion had its commencement in the latter days of October; its name is derived from +puana+, the legumes which were offered in sacrifice to Apollo at that season. [8] The thirteenth of Elaphebolion was the tenth of April. DANTE AND BEATRICE _Dante._ When you saw me profoundly pierced with love, and reddening and trembling, did it become you, did it become you, you whom I have always called _the most gentle Bice_, to join in the heartless laughter of those girls around you? Answer me. Reply unhesitatingly. Requires it so long a space for dissimulation and duplicity? Pardon! pardon! pardon! My senses have left me; my heart being gone, they follow. _Beatrice._ Childish man! pursuing the impossible. _Dante._ And was it this you laughed at? We cannot touch the hem of God's garment; yet we fall at His feet and weep. _Beatrice._ But weep not, gentle Dante! fall not before the weakest of His creatures, willing to comfort, unable to relieve you. Consider a little. Is laughter at all times the signal or the precursor of derision? I smiled, let me avow it, from the pride I felt in your preference of me; and if I laughed, it was to conceal my sentiments. Did you never cover sweet fruit with worthless leaves? Come, do not drop again so soon so faint a smile. I will not have you grave, nor very serious. I pity you; I must not love you: if I might, I would.