“Oh!” he replied, in a tone of mingled surprise and sorrow, “you ought not to have believed that.”

“Xanthe turned, raised her eyes in astonishment, and asked

“Then where have you been these last nights?”

“Up in your olive-grove with the three Hermes.”

“You?”

“How amazed you look!”

“I was only thinking of the wicked fellows who have robbed many trees of their fruit.  That savage Korax, with his thievish sons, lives just beside the wall.”

For your sake, Xanthe, and because your poor father is ill and unable to look after his property, while Mopsus and your fishermen and slaves were obliged to go in the ship to Messina, to handle the oars and manage the sails, I always went up as soon as it grew dark.”

“And have you kept watch there?”

“Yes.”

“So many nights?”

“One can sleep after sunrise.”

“How tired you must be!”

“I’ll make up my sleep when my father returns.”

“They say he is seeking the rich Mentor’s only daughter for your wife.”

“Not with my will, certainly.”

“Phaon!”

“I am glad you will give me your hand again.”

“You dear, good, kind fellow, how shall I thank you?”

“Anything but that!  If you hadn’t thought such foolish things about me, I should never have spoken of my watch up yonder.  Who could have done it except myself, before Mopsus came back?”

“No one, no one but you!  But now—­now ask your question at once.”

“May I?  O Xanthe, dear, dear Xanthe, will you have me or our cousin Leonax for your husband?”

“You, you, only you, and nobody else on earth!” cried the girl, throwing both arms around him.  Phaon clasped her closely, and joyously kissed her brow and lips.

The sky, the sea, the sun, everything near or distant that was bright and beautiful, was mirrored in their hearts, and it seemed to both as if they heard all creatures that sing, laugh, and rejoice.  Each thought that, in the other, he or she possessed the whole world with all its joy and happiness.  They were united, wholly united, there was nothing except themselves, and thus they became to each other an especially blissful world, beside which every other created thing sank into nothingness.

Minute after minute passed, nearly an hour had elapsed, and, instead of making garlands, Xanthe clasped her arms around Phaon’s neck; instead of gazing into the distant horizon, she looked into his eyes; instead of watching for approaching steps, both listened to the same sweet words which lovers always repeat, and yet never grow weary of speaking and hearing.

The roses lay on the ground, the ship from Messina ran into the bay beside the estate, and Semestre hobbled down to the sea to look for Xanthe, and in the place of the master of the house receive her favorite’s son, who came as a suitor, like a god.