“Hind,” Byblis said, “to whom do you belong? If your mistress is the Goddess Artemis guide me, for I know her. I offer up to her in the full moonlight libations of goat’s milk which are very pleasing to her, and, hind, she loves me dearly. If you are one of her company listen to the voice of my anguish, and be sure that by so doing you will not displease the kind Huntress of the Night.” The hind appeared to understand; it started off at a pace slow enough for the child to follow. In this way they both traversed a vast expanse of forest and crossed two streams, the hind crossing them with a bound while Byblis had to wade knee-deep across them. Byblis was full of confidence. She was now sure that she was upon the right track; without a doubt the hind had been sent by the goddess herself out of gratitude for her devoutness, and the divine animal was leading her through the woods to her beloved brother from whom she would never again be separated. Every step took her nearer to the place where she would see Caunos again. She could even now feel upon her breast the fugitive’s affectionate embrace. A part of his breath seemed to have entered into the atmosphere and to have charmed the breeze. Suddenly the hind stopped. She slid her long head between two young trees, where at the same time the horns of a stag appeared, and just as if she had reached the end of her journey the hind lay down with her hoofs beneath her and her head upon the ground. “Caunos!” Byblis called aloud, “Caunos, where are you?” Her only answer was from the stag, as he took a few steps towards her and threatened her with his terrible horns, which were interwoven like ten brown serpents. Then Byblis understood that the hind, like her, had come to meet her lover, and that it was perhaps useless to reckon upon the help of these entirely absorbed by an inward passion. She turned back, but she was lost. She took another track, which rapidly descended to an invisible path. Her poor little weary feet stumbled over the stones, caught in the roots, and slipped upon the brown carpet of pine-needles. At a turn in this uneven path, which followed the course of a stream, she stopped before a divine couple. They were two nymphs of different orders, one of them having authority over the forests and the other the spring waters. The oread had brought to the naiad the fresh offerings received from men, and both of them were bathing in the stream, sporting and embracing as they did so. “Naiad,” Byblis said, “have you seen the son of Cyanée?” “Yes. His shadow has passed over me. It was yesterday at sunset.” “From what direction did he come?” “I do not know.” “Where was he going?” “I did not follow him.” Byblis uttered a profound sigh. “Did you,” she asked the other nymph, “see the son of Cyanée?” “Yes. Far away from here in the mountains.” “Whence did he come?” “I did not follow him.” “Where was he going?” “I have forgotten.”