The more he did
such things as mortal horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and
the more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost held
their breaths, partly from a delightful awe, but still more because they
dreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur should send him up, with the
speed of an arrow flight, into the farthest blue of the sky.
Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over and over, Pegasus turned
himself about, and, indolently, like any other horse, put out his fore
legs, in order to rise from the ground; and Bellerophon, who had guessed
that he would do so, darted suddenly from the thicket, and leaped
astride of his back.
Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!
But what a bound did Pegasus make, when, for the first time, he felt the
weight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had
time to draw a breath Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet aloft,
and still shooting upward, while the winged horse snorted and trembled
with terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into
the cold misty bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little while before,
Bellerophon had been gazing, and fancying it a very pleasant spot. Then
again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a
thunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his rider headlong
against a rock.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110