One morning they set out for their usual walk, just as the east was flushing redly with the dawn, and the chill morning air nipped them keenly as they strolled along in the direction of Brasdimir. That is to say, the poet and the sculptor strolled, for Caliphronas simply danced along, as if to rid himself of his superabundant energy. Across the dewy meadows he bounded fawn-like, singing as gayly as the lark already saluting the sun in the fresh blue sky. Like some wild being of the woods, he leaped here and there from very light-heartedness, with his head bare and his arms tossing in the air. A number of horses pasturing in the field rushed away at his approach, nor, though he called them loudly, did they pause in their wild career. “What a child he is!” said Maurice, watching the graceful figure of the Greek bounding lightly towards the water. “Yes, a nice child truly,” sneered Crispin, with strong disfavor. “You don’t seem to like Caliphronas?” “Well, no, I cannot say I do. As an acquaintance he is all very well, but as a friend”—Here Crispin shrugged his shoulders in lieu of words. “I suppose all he says about himself is true?” “I suppose so,” replied the poet curtly. “Do you think he will stay long down here? I hope he will not go away before I finish modelling my Endymion.” “I think you can safely depend on his staying till then,” rejoined Crispin significantly, and the conversation ended—a conversation which left an odd feeling of discomfort in the mind of Maurice, which—why he could not tell—seemed to revive his old distrust of this fascinating Greek. He would have questioned Crispin further, but as they were now on the edge of the bank, and Caliphronas was within hearing, he had no opportunity of so doing, therefore put off such examination till a more convenient season. Caliphronas was already in the water, swimming like a fish, and indeed he was as much at home there as on the land. The two gentlemen undressed leisurely on the bank, Maurice making fun of the Greek as he revelled in his favorite element. “You had better beware, Caliphronas, as the nymphs might take a fancy to you as they did to Hylas.” “River nymphs, sea nymphs, I do not mind in the least!” cried the Greek gayly; “ladies are always charming, whether they have tails or limbs.”