of dawn and danger, he dropped his disguising wolf-skin and, forgetting
his sheep, his lesson, and his master, scampered off with a will.


Of what use is such shamming? It is an illusion to suppose that one is
really changed by making the pretence. One resume's one's first nature
upon the earliest occasion for hiding it.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 19: At the Siege of Troy. He was mistaken for Achilles.]

[Illustration: A guide for the footsteps of love.]




XLI

LOVE AND FOLLY

(BOOK XII.--No. 14)


Everything to do with love is mystery. Cupid's arrows, his quiver, his
torch, his boyhood: it is more than a day's work to exhaust this
science. I make no pretence here of explaining everything. My object is
merely to relate to you, in my own way, how the blind little god was
deprived of his sight, and what consequences followed this evil which
perchance was a blessing after all. On the latter point I will decide