though far less sorrowfully than its young driver, whom Semestre had
exiled from his master's house and the girl he loved.

He spent half an hour in reaching the sanctuary.

Old Jason, at the same time, was standing before the little grove beside
the steps leading to the cella.

The worthy man cradled in his arms, as Dorippe had just done in
Lysander's house, a little squealing creature, and this, too, was a pig;
but it wore no ribbon around its little tail and ears, was not
particularly fat, and had numerous black spots under its scanty bristles
and on its sharp snout.

The old man was gazing at the innocent creature by no means tenderly,
but with the utmost indignation. He had good reason to be angry, for the
priest had not thought it fit for a sacrifice to the goddess, it was so
poor in fat and full of bad marks.

Alas, and Jason had no second pig, and was so eager to win the goddess to
Phaon's cause.

As soon as he saw Semestre's offering, he had hurried home to anticipate
her with his own, and first win the goddess's heart for his young master.

Now he stood considering whether he should strangle the unlucky creature,
or carry it back to its mother.

Like a frugal steward, he decided upon the latter course, and, just as he
was comparing the image of the lean, spotted animal with its future well-