"Oh, no, dear Proserpina," cried the sea nymphs; "we dare not go with
you upon the dry land. We are apt to grow faint, unless at every breath
we can snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. And don't you see how
careful we are to let the surf wave break over us every moment or two,
so as to keep ourselves comfortably moist? If it were not for that, we
should soon look like bunches of uprooted seaweed dried in the sun."
"It is a great pity," said Proserpina. "But do you wait for me here, and
I will run and gather my apron full of flowers, and be back again before
the surf wave has broken ten times over you. I long to make you some
wreaths that shall be as lovely as this necklace of many-coloured
shells."
"We will wait, then," answered the sea nymphs. "But while you are gone,
we may as well lie down on a bank of soft sponge, under the water. The
air to-day is a little too dry for our comfort. But we will pop up our
heads every few minutes to see if you are coming."
The young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where, only the day before,
she had seen a great many flowers. These, however, were now a little
past their bloom; and wishing to give her friends the freshest and
loveliest blossoms, she strayed farther into the fields, and found some
that made her scream with delight. Never had she met with such exquisite
flowers before--violets, so large and fragrant--roses, with so rich and
delicate a blush--such superb hyacinths and such aromatic pinks--and
many others, some of which seemed to be of new shapes and colours.
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