throw from the foot of the
hill I came to where a faint bridle-path diverged. And since it was
smooth with moss, and Rosinante haply tired of pebbles; since any but
the direct road seems ever the more delectable, I too turned aside,
and broke into the woods through which this path meandered.

Maybe it is because all woods are enchanted that the path seemed more
than many miles long. Often too we loitered, or stood, head by head,
to listen, or to watch what might be after all only wings, mere
sunbeams. Shall I say, then, that it began to be thorny, and, where
the thorns were, pale with roses, when at length the knitted boughs
gradually drew asunder, and I looked down between twitching, hairy
ears upon a glade so green and tranquil, I deemed it must be the
Garden of the Hesperides?

And because there ran a very welcome brook of water through this
glade, I left Rosinante to follow whithersoever a sweet tooth might
dictate, and climbed down into the weedy coolness at the waterbrink.

I confess I laughed to see so puckered a face as mine in the clear
blue of the flowing water. But I dipped my hands and my head into the
cold shallows none the less pleasantly, and was casting about for a
deeper pool where I might bathe unscorned of the noonday, when I heard
a light laughter behind me, and, turning cautiously, perceived under
the further shadow of the glade three ladies sitting.

Not even vanity could persuade me that they were laughing at anything
more grotesque than myself, so, putting a bold face on matters so
humiliating, I sauntered as carelessly and loftily as I dared in their
direction. My courage seemed to abash them a little; they gathered
back their petticoats like birds about to fly. But at hint of a
titter, they all three began gaily laughing again till their eyes
sparkled brighter than ever, and their cheeks seemed shadows of the
roses above their heads.

"Ladies," I began gravely, "I have left my horse, that is very old and
very thirsty, above in the wood. Is there any path I may discover by
which she may reach the water without offence?"

"Is she very old?" said one.

"She is very old," I said.

"But is she very thirsty?" said another.

"She is perhaps very thirsty," I said.

"Perhaps!" cried they all.

"Because, ladies," I replied, "being by nature of a timid tongue, and
compelled to say something, and having nothing apt to say, I
remembered my old Rosinante above in the wood."

They glanced eac