this unknown person; for what Abricotina had said, joined to the sight
of the picture, had almost destroyed her repose: her lively humor
changed into a pensive melancholy, and she grew a great lover of
solitude. When she entered the grotto, she made a sign that nobody
should follow her, so that her young damsels dispersed themselves into
the neighboring walks. The princess threw herself upon a bank of green
turf, sighed, wept, and even talked, but so softly that Leander could
not hear what she said. He had put his red cap on, that she might not
see him at first; but having taken it off, she beheld him standing on
the pedestal. At first she took him for a real statue, for he observed
exactly the attitude in which he had placed himself, without moving so
much as a finger. She beheld with a kind of pleasure intermixed with
fear, but pleasure soon dispelled her fear, and she continued to view
the pleasing figure, which so exactly resembled life. The prince having
tuned his lyre, began to play; at which the princess, greatly surprised,
could not resist the fear that seized her; she grew pale and fell into
a swoon. Leander leaped from the pedestal, and putting on his little red
cap, that he might not be perceived, took the princess in his arms and
gave her all the assistance that his zeal and tenderness could inspire.
At length she opened her charming eyes and looked about in search of
him, but she could perceive nobody; yet she felt somebody who held her
hands, kissed them, and bedewed them with his tears. It was a long time
before she durst speak, and her spirits were in a confused agitation
between fear and hope. She was afraid of the spirit, but loved the
figure of the unknown. At length she said: "Courtly invisible, why are
you not the person I desire you should be?" At these words Leander was
going to declare himself, but durst not do it yet. "For," thought he,
"if I again affright the object I adore and make her fear me, she will
not love me." This consideration caused him to keep silence.