rly in the morning,
as do children, after a visit from Santa Klaus, because he could not
wait any longer so desirous was he to see his pretty doll. He went
under too late of an evening because he could not tear himself away
from her presence. No one knew anything more about the seasons, as the
Sun-God remained in the heavens as long in Winter as in the Summer, for
Leucothoe appeared charming to him at all times. In time he became
melancholy mad, merely out of love. In mid-day he ceased to appear,
other days he was pale and worn out and hid himself behind clouds. Now
one time that in one of his love fits he had set before mid-day, the
Father of the Gods remarked, that this could not be allowed to go on
any longer. He would give him leave of absence every evening and a
latch-key to the Olympian gate, in case he came home late, but during
the day he must fulfil his duty punctually, otherwise he would make the
brave and reliable Hercules, the Sun-God. The handsome Apollo knew very
well, that Hercules at the best was only fit to be house-boots, but in
his heart he was very glad that the good Father of the Gods had
arranged the matter in that way. So of an evening, when he had reached
the furthest western point, where the world comes to an end, he
unharnessed his horses, and turned them out to grass on a splendid
large meadow, telling Hesperus, the evening Star, which remains out in
the heaven all night, to keep his eye on them. He himself then took a
dip in the Ocean and then with a god-like celerity swung himself round
to the Cape of Circe, where dwelt Leucothoe, assuming at once the
appearance of her mother. 'Get out,' he said to the maidens attending
her, 'I have something to say to my daughter.' As soon however as he
found himself alone with the young lady, he threw off his disguise and
fell at her feet in all the majesty of his glorious beauty. Leucothoe
was frightened, but she could not withstand him, for he was a God and
she only a poor mortal maiden. Thus he often visited her and heaven
regained its usual orderly appearance, and everybody was contented,
except the poor languishing Klytia. As the lucky God had no longer any
glance for her, and her sighs were all wasted in the air, Klytia became
sad and ill, and there was no longer any peace in her heart. In the
daytime she would not come out. For she did not wish to see the God any
more, who so shamefully snubbed her, only at night did she wander
through wood or vale,