alone, of all nature, seemed impervious to the joy that had
descended upon earth.

It was only an hour since Daphne had been overtaken. Few words
had sufficed for understanding, and Bertuccio had looked
away.

"My only fear was that I should find you turned into a laurel
tree," said Apollo. "I shall always be afraid of
that."

"Apollo," said Daphne irrelevantly, holding out to him a bunch of
purple grapes in the palm of her hand, "there is a practical side
to all this. People will have to know, I am afraid. I must
write to my sister."

"I have reason to think that the Countess Accolanti will not be
displeased," he answered. There was a queer little look about
his mouth, but Daphne asked for no explanation.

"There is your father," he suggested.

"Oh!" said Daphne. "He will love you at once. His tastes and
mine are very much alike."

The lover-god smiled, quite satisfied.

"You chose the steepest road of all to-day, little girl," he
said. "But it is not half so long nor so hard as the one I
expected to climb to find you."