"The two bent forward over the still clear water. It was a pretty picture which they saw reflected; the young boy’s fair sun-tanned face surrounded with a bright halo of curls through which the sunlight played. The girl bending over him, her dark tresses, which she had unbound, falling over his shoulders and covering them both as with a cloud; her breast, which hitherto looked brown against the white of her tunic, now by contrast with the deep shade of her hair was reflected back with the brilliancy of ivory. "’You are beautiful,’ was all the boy said. "’_We_ are beautiful,’ the girl corrected. ’Do you think,’ she continued, ’that I am as lovely as your mistress?’ "’Oh dear, no!’ the boy replied, with uncomplimentary frankness. Then, feeling that he had angered her, he went on, ’You see it is different. She is so young, so delicate!’ And saying this he looked again into the water, contrasting in his mind the tender budding grace of the maiden with the reflection of developed womanhood before him. "Myra laughed; but though it was not her desire to win the boy from his devotion to Viola, there was beneath the laughter in her eyes an angry, jealous light. "’Ah! my pretty infant,’ she cried, ’when you are older you will grow wiser. So you love this little mistress of yours, do you?’ "’I worship her!’ he said, slightly correcting the verb, and giving it, not only a fuller, but more chastened meaning. "’What is the difference,’ she asked, ’between love and worship?’ "’You tell me,’ he said; ’I am not good at explaining, I only feel.’ "They had moved back from the water, and were now once more lying on the soft bank. "’I don’t think you know much about feeling, child,’ she answered, ’and as for love, why you’re a perfect baby! We begin by worshipping; we go on to loving; and we often end by hating!’ "’Then I don’t want to get to loving,’ he said, ’I like worshipping best, especially if love leads to hatred; but I don’t believe it! I might, perhaps, hate you, Myra, but I never could hate Viola. However, tell me what love is, and I will tell you if I have ever loved.’ "’Have you ever kissed your mistress?’ she asked. "The boy looked surprised. ’The Roman nobles,’ he answered, ’do not kiss their slaves.’ "The girl burst out laughing; this idea, from her point of view, was exceedingly comical, but she did not contradict him. ’I will tell you some stories about love,’ she said. "Myra, being a Roman slave girl, and having passed through some considerable experience of what she termed love, it would be unnecessary and unedifying to follow her further. Manners and customs change, and the refinement of thought and language, notwithstanding many an ebb and flow, has enlarged its borders. To describe therefore any such scene as this truthfully, would be not only undesirable, but misleading.