"Who told you so?"

"My hens."

"Then remember me to them!" cried Xanthe, who left the juggler and ran
straight toward the path leading to the sea.

Just at the point where the latter branched off from the broader road
used by carts as well as foot-passengers, stood a singular monument,
before which the young girl checked her steps.

The praise the conjurer had lavished on Leonax afforded her little
pleasure; nay, she would rather have heard censure of the Messina suitor,
for, if he corresponded with the dwarf's portrait, he would be the right
man to supply a son's place to her father, and rule as master over the
estate, where many things did not go on as they ought. Then she must
forget the faithless night-reveller, Phaon--if she could.

Every possession seems most charming at the time we are obliged to resign
it, and never in all her life had Xanthe thought so tenderly and
longingly of Phaon as now and on this spot.

The monument, overgrown with blossoming vines, before which she paused,
was a singular structure, that had been built of brick between her own
and her uncle's garden.

It was in the form of a strong wall, bounded by two tall pillars. In the
wall were three rows of deep niches with arched ceilings, while on the
pillars, exquisitely painted upon a brownish-red ground, were the Genius