mother asks.  “Alcinous,” I tell them, “was a king of Coreyra.  Homer describes his garden and the critics think it too simple and unadorned. [Footnote:  “’When you leave the palace you enter a vast garden, four acres in extent, walled in on every side, planted with tall trees in blossom, and yielding pears, pomegranates, and other goodly fruits, fig-trees with their luscious burden and green olives.  All the year round these fair trees are heavy with fruit; summer and winter the soft breath of the west wind sways the trees and ripens the fruit.  Pears and apples wither on the branches, the fig on the fig-tree, and the clusters of grapes on the vine.  The inexhaustible stock bears fresh grapes, some are baked, some are spread out on the threshing floor to dry, others are made into wine, while flowers, sour grapes, and those which are beginning to wither are left upon the tree.  At either end is a square garden filled with flowers which bloom throughout the year, these gardens are adorned by two fountains, one of these streams waters the garden, the other passes through the palace and is then taken to a lofty tower in the town to provide drinking water for its citizens.’  Such is the description of the royal garden of Alcinous in the 7th book of the Odyssey, a garden in which, to the lasting disgrace of that old dreamer Homer and the princes of his day, there were neither trellises, statues, cascades, nor bowling-greens.”] This Alcinous had a charming daughter who dreamed the night before her father received a stranger at his board that she would soon have a husband.”  Sophy, taken unawares, blushed, hung her head, and bit her lips; no one could be more confused.  Her father, who was enjoying her confusion, added that the young princess bent herself to wash the linen in the river.  “Do you think,” said he, “she would have scorned to touch the dirty clothes, saying, that they smelt of grease?” Sophy, touched to the quick, forgot her natural timidity and defended herself eagerly.  Her papa knew very well all the smaller things would have had no other laundress if she had been allowed to wash them, and she would gladly have done more had she been set to do it. [Footnote:  I own I feel grateful to Sophy’s mother for not letting her spoil such pretty hands with soap, hands which Emile will kiss so often.] Meanwhile she watched me secretly with such anxiety that I could not suppress a smile, while I read the terrors of her simple heart which urged her to speak.  Her father was cruel enough to continue this foolish sport, by asking her, in jest, why she spoke on her own behalf and what had she in common with the daughter of Alcinous.  Trembling and ashamed she dared hardly breathe or look at us.  Charming girl!  This is no time for feigning, you have shown your true feelings in spite of yourself.