deafness. Then seeing Semestre smile, he drew nearer, and with winning
cheerfulness continued: "Be sensible, and don't try to part the children,
who belong to each other. Xanthe, too, is fond of figs, and, if Leonax
shares his father's taste, how will the sweet fruit of your favorite
trees fare, if Hymen unites them in marriage? Phaon doesn't care for
sweet things. But seriously: though his father may seek twenty brides
for him, he himself wants no one but Xanthe. And can you deny that he is
a handsome, powerful fellow?"

"So is the other," cried Semestre, wholly unmoved by these words. "Have
you seen your favorite this morning? No! Do you know where he slept
last night and the night before?"

"On his couch, I suppose."

"In your house?"

"I don't run after the youth, now he is grown up."

"Neither shall we! You are giving yourself useless trouble, Jason, and
I earnestly beg you not to disturb me any longer now, for a dark spot is
already appearing on the roast. Quick, Chloris--lift the spit from the
fire!"

"I should like to bid Lysander good-morning."

"He is tired, and wants to see no one. The servants have vexed him."

"Then I'll stay awhile in the garden."