"I have forgotten art, and now we are happy," continued the boy. "It would have been madness to have run off to Greece, leaving here a treasure which I had not fully appreciated. We spend our time wandering through the fields; we know mysterious corners in the groves sheltered by curtains of leaves, dark and perfumed hiding places which even Sónnica the rich might envy us. When we are hungry we milk Rhanto's goats and we rob a beehive; we climb trees in search of fruit; this is the glorious season of the year; the whole champaign is full of cherries." He suddenly ceased speaking, fearing lest he had said too much. Perhaps Rhanto reproved him with a nudge. Then he added, in a supplicating tone: "You are good, Athenian. Rhanto and I have looked upon you as an elder brother since that day we met you on the Road of the Serpent. Do not say anything to my father, nor to Sónnica. Let us be happy in this life of ours, which is worthy of the gods." Actæon envied the felicity of these care-free youths, who loved each other frankly, living beneath the trees, strong and beautiful as wild creatures who had no thoughts beyond their companionship. "Saguntum is about to be attacked. War is at our gates. Did you not know it?" "We have not heard of it," said Erotion, with a scornful gesture. "I am interested in nothing but Rhanto." "Are you not interested in the fate of your city?" "I am more interested in the kisses of my shepherdess. As long as there be love, sunshine, and fruits, what does the rest of the world matter to me?" "Have you no thought for your country, you truant?" "Just now I have no thought for anything but these cherries, and for these red lips which are as fresh as they." They parted, and Actæon long held the memory of the meeting. The light-heartedness of the loving couple filled him with envy. The summer months passed. The vines of the domain ripened their clusters, the farmers rejoiced in the prospect of the coming crop hidden beneath the leaves, but from time to time, like a gloomy trumpet blast, came news of Hannibal, of his victories over the tribes of the interior who refused to recognize him, and of his imperious demands upon Saguntum. Actæon scented the nearness of war, and this, which had ever been his principal occupation, now caused him only sorrow. He had grown to love this beautiful land as dearly as Greece. His soul, saturated with the sweet peace of the fertile fields, and of the rich industrious city, was saddened at the thought that this life was to be paralyzed. His existence had been spent amid struggles and adventures; and now, rich and happy, when he longed for peace in a corner where he hoped to end his days, war, like a forgotten mistress who presents herself inopportunely, returned unbidden, forcing him anew to cruelty and destruction.