others' arms upon the ground; their voices murmuring and themselves dying away. So much does a sudden rush of joy overpower the human faculties, and excess of pleasure passes into pain. Thus these lovers, unexpectedly preserved, seemed again in danger, till Cnemon, observing a little water in a cleft of the rock, took it up in the hollow of his hand, and sprinkling it over their faces and nostrils, they came by degrees to themselves. But when they discovered their situation, lying on the ground in each other's arms, they rose immediately, and blushing a little, especially Chariclea, began to make excuses to Cnemon. He, smiling, turned the matter into pleasantry. "You will not find a severe censor in me," said he; "whoever is but moderately acquainted with the passion of love, will easily forgive its excesses. But there is one part of your conduct, Theagenes, which I cannot approve of--indeed I was ashamed to see it--when you fell down, and bewailed in so lamentable a manner a foreign woman, and one of no good character, while I was all the time assuring you, that she, whom you professed to love best, was alive and near you."--"Have done, Cnemon," he replied; "do not traduce me to Chariclea. You know I lamented her, under the person of another; but since the kind gods have shewn me that I was in an error, pray call to mind a little your own fortitude. You joined your tears, at first, with mine; but when you recognized the body which lay before you, you started as from a demon on the stage, you in armour, and with a sword, from a woman; you, a Grecian warrior, from a corpse!" This raillery drew a short and forced smile from them, mingled with tears; for such was their calamitous situation, that grief and thought soon overpowered this gleam of cheerfulness. A short silence ensued; when Chariclea[4] gently moving her finger upon her cheek under the ear, exclaimed, "I shall always esteem her blest, whoever she be, for whom Theagenes is concerned; but, if you do not think that love makes me too inquisitive, I should be glad to know who is this happy damsel who has been thought worthy of his tears; and by what error he could take a stranger for me."--"You will wonder when you hear," replied Theagenes. "Cnemon affirms, that these are the remains of Thisbe, the Athenian singer, the plotter against him and Demæneta."--"How," said the astonished Chariclea, "could she be brought here, from the middle of Greece to the extremity of Egypt, like a deity in a tragedy?[5] and how could she be concealed from us at our entrance?"--"As to that, I am as much at a loss about it as you can be," said Cnemon; "all I know of her adventures is this: After the tragical end of Demæneta, my father laid before the people what had happened. They pitied and pardoned him; and he was earnestly employed in soliciting my recall. Thisbe made use of the leisure she had upon her hands; and at different entertainments set her musical skill and her person to sale.