I am happy to tell you, my dear madam, that I did
see the little Proserpina not many days ago. You may make yourself
perfectly easy about her. She is safe, and in excellent hands."
"Oh, where is my dear child?" cried Ceres, clasping her hands and
flinging herself at his feet.
"Why," said Phoebus--and as he spoke, he kept touching his lyre so as
to make a thread of music run in and out among his words--"as the little
damsel was gathering flowers (and she has really a very exquisite taste
for flowers) she was suddenly snatched up by King Pluto and carried off
to his dominions. I have never been in that part of the universe; but
the royal palace, I am told, is built in a very noble style of
architecture, and of the most splendid and costly materials. Gold,
diamonds, pearls, and all manner of precious stones will be your
daughter's ordinary playthings. I recommend to you, my dear lady, to
give yourself no uneasiness. Proserpina's sense of beauty will be duly
gratified, and, even in spite of the lack of sunshine, she will lead a
very enviable life."
"Hush! Say not such a word!" answered Ceres, indignantly. "What is there
to gratify her heart? What are all the splendours you speak of, without
affection? I must have her back again. Will you go with me, Phoebus,
to demand my daughter of this wicked Pluto?"
"Pray excuse me," replied Phoebus, with an elegant obeisance.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75