Cephalus, though he had lost his dog, still continued to take
delight in the chase. He would go out at early morning, ranging
the woods and hills unaccompanied by any one, needing no help, for
his javelin was a sure weapon in all cases. Fatigued with hunting,
when the sun got high he would seek a shady nook where a cool
stream flowed, and, stretched on the grass, with his garments
thrown aside, would enjoy the breeze. Sometimes he would say
aloud, "Come, sweet breeze, come and fan my breast, come and allay
the heat that burns me." Some one passing by one day heard him
talking in this way to the air, and, foolishly believing that he
was talking to some maiden, went and told the secret to Procris,
Cephalus's wife. Love is credulous. Procris, at the sudden shock,
fainted away. Presently recovering, she said, "It cannot be true;
I will not believe it unless I myself am a witness to it." So she
waited, with anxious heart, till the next morning, when Cephalus
went to hunt as usual. Then she stole out after him, and concealed
herself in the place where the informer directed her. Cephalus
came as he was wont when tired with sport, and stretched himself
on the green bank, saying, "Come, sweet breeze, come and fan me;
you know how I love you! you make the groves and my solitary
rambles delightful.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63