difference communicates an indescribable soft balm to those caresses
which are the flowers of love."

"Cousin, let us change the conversation; it affects me more than did
the music."

She called hastily to a servant to bring her boy to her, who came, and
when Sylvia saw him, she exclaimed--

"Ah! the little dear, he is as beautiful as love."

Then she kissed him heartily upon the forehead.

"Come, my little one," said the mother, as the child clambered into
her lap. "Thou art thy mother's blessing, her unclouded joy, the
delight of her every hour, her crown, her jewel, her own pure pearl,
her spotless soul, her treasure, her morning and evening star, her
only flame, and her heart's darling. Give me thy hands, that I may eat
them; give me thine ears, that I may bite them; give me thy head, that
I may kiss thy curls. Be happy sweet flower of my body, that I may be
happy too."

"Ah! cousin," said Sylvia, "you are speaking the language of love to
him."

"Love is a child then?"

"Yes, cousin; therefore the heathen always portrayed him as a little
boy."