You who would follow, Fear not to come, For love is for love As dove is for dove; The harp of Apollo Shall lull you to rest, And your head find its home On this beautiful breast. Queen Aphrodite, Born of the sea, Beautiful dutiful daughters Are we! Born of the Ocean, Wave-like are we! Rising and falling Like waves of the sea; Changing for ever, Yet ever the same, Music in motion And marble in flame. Queen Aphrodite, Born of the sea, Beautiful dutiful daughters Are we! When I alighted once more upon the earth from the heaven of this song, who should I find seated within a table of me but the very couple I was at the moment so unexpectedly interested in? But they were far too absorbed in each other to notice me, and consequently I was able to hear all of importance that was said. I regret that I cannot gratify the reader with a report of their conversation, for the excuse I had for listening was one that is not transferable. A woman's happiness was at stake. No other consideration could have persuaded me to means so mean save an end so noble. I didn't even tell Rosalind all I heard. Mercifully for her, the candour of fools is not among my superstitions. Suffice it for all third persons to know--what Rosalind indeed has never known, and what I hope no reader will be fool enough to tell her--that Orlando was for the moment hopelessly and besottedly faithless to his wife, and that my services had been bespoken in the very narrowest nick of time.