nch
of rolling into the river. Hector rushed to her, raised her gently up,
and begging her to lean her head upon his shoulder, assisted her up
the bank. "She's like a naiad surprised by a shepherd"--he
thought--and it is not improbable that at that moment he pressed his
lips pretty close to the pale cheek that rested almost in his breast.
When he lifted up his head, he perceived, half hidden among the
willows, on the other side of the river--Daphne! She had wandered to
see once more the cradle of her love, to tread the meadow where, two
days only before--could it be only two days?--she had been so happy.
What did she see? What did she hear? As her only reply to the kiss
to which she had so unfortunately been a witness, she broke her
crook in an excess of indignation. But it was too much to bear. She
fell upon the bank, and uttered a plaintive cry. At that cry--at
sight of his poor Daphne fainting upon the grass, he rushed like a
madman across the stream, buoyant with love and despair. He ran to
his insensate shepherdess, regardless of the exclamations of the
fair Clotilde, and raised her in his trembling arms.

"Daphne, Daphne," he cried, "open your eyes. I love nobody but
you--nobody but you."

He embraced her tenderly; he wept--and spoke to her as if she heard:
Daphne opened her eyes for a moment with a look of misery--and shut
them again--and shuddered.

"No, no!" she said--"'tis over! You are no longer Daphnis, and I
Daphne no more--leave me, leave me alone--to die!"

"My life! my love! my darling Daphne! I love you--I swear it to you
from my heart. I do not desert you: you are the only one I care for!"

In the meantime Clotilde had approached the touching scene.

"'Pon my word, sir! very well"--she said--"am I to return to the
Chateau by myself?"

"Go, sir, go!" said Daphne, pushing him away, "You are waited for,
you are called."

"But, Daphne--but, fair cousin"--

"I won't listen to you--my daydream is past--speak of it no more,"
said Daphne.

"Do you know, cousin," said Clotilde, with a malicious sneer,
"that this rural surprise is quite enchanting! I am greatly obliged
to you for getting it up for my amusement. You did not prepare me
for so exquisite a scene; I conclude it is from the last chapter of
the Astrea."

"Ah! cousin," said Hector, "I will overtake you in a moment--I will
tell you all, and then I don't think you'll laugh at us."

"Excuse me, sir," cried Daphne, in a tone of disdainful a