o be
melancholy, to-day grief pierced her heart like a knife, and the bit of
white bread she raised to her lips because, with all her sorrow, she was
hungry, tasted bitter, as if dipped in wormwood.

She had no need to salt it; the tears that fell on it did that.

Xanthe heard the house-keeper's calls, but did not obey immediately, and
perhaps would not have heeded them at all if she had not noticed--yes,
she was not mistaken--that, in the full meaning of the words, she had
begun to weep like a chidden child.

She was weeping for anger; and soon it vexed her so much to think that
she should cry, that fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

But not many, for, ere her beautiful eyes grew red, they were dry again,
as is the custom of eyes when they are young and see anything new.

Two children, a vineyard-watchman's son and a herdsman's little
daughter, approached the spring, talking loudly together.

They had decked themselves with fresh, green vines twined about their
necks and bosoms, and were now going to sail a little boat made of bark
in the tiny, walled pool into which the spring flowed.

The boy had been the owner of the boat, but had given it to the little
girl the day before, and now refused to deliver it, unless she would
give him in exchange the shining shells her big brother had found,
cleaned, and fastened around her little brown arm with a string. The boy
persisted in his demand, stretching out his hand for the shells, while
the little girl, with sobs and tears, defended herself.

Xanthe, unobserved by the children, became a witness of this contest
between might and right, hastily stepped between the combatants, gave
the boy a blow on the shoulder, took the boat away, handed it to the
little maiden, and, turning to the latter, said:

"Now, play quietly together, and, if Syrus doesn't let you keep the boat
and the shells, come to me, poor Stephanion."

So saying, she wiped the little girl's eyes with her own skirt, seized
her by the shoulder, grasped the boy's black curls, pressed the two
little ones toward each other with gentle violence, and commanded:

"Now, kiss each other!"

The little girl dutifully obeyed the bidding, but the kiss the boy gave
his playmate strongly resembled a blow with the mouth.

Xanthe laughed merrily, turned her back on the children, and went slowly
down into the valley.

During her walk all sorts of little incidents flashed through her mind
with the speed of lightni