,--his
lifeless body floating towards her on the tide; and as she flung herself
after him, mad with grief, the air upheld her and she seemed to fly.
Husband and wife were changed into birds; and there on the very water, at
certain seasons, they build a nest that floats unhurt,--a portent of calm
for many days and safe voyage for the ships. So it is that seamen love
these birds and look for halcyon weather.

But there once lived in Babylonia two lovers named Pyramus and Thisbe, who
were parted by a strange mischance. For they lived in adjoining houses;
and although their parents had forbidden them to marry, these two had
found a means of talking together through a crevice in the wall.

Here, again and again, Pyramus on his side of the wall and Thisbe on hers,
they would meet to tell each other all that had happened during the day,
and to complain of their cruel parents. At length they decided that they
would endure it no longer, but that they would leave their homes and be
married, come what might. They planned to meet, on a certain evening, by a
mulberry-tree near the tomb of King Ninus, outside the city gates. Once
safely met, they were resolved to brave fortune together.

So far all went well. At the appointed time, Thisbe, heavily veiled,
managed to escape from home unnoticed, and after a stealthy journey
through the streets of Babylon, she came to the grove of mulberries near
the tomb of Ninus. The place was deserted, and once there she put off the
veil from her face to see if Pyramus waited anywhere among the shadows.
She heard the sound of a footfall and turned to behold--not Pyramus, but a
creature unwelcome to any tryst--none other than a lioness crouching to
drink from the pool hard by.

Without a cry, Thisbe fled, dropping her veil as she ran. She found a
hiding-place among the rocks at some distance, and there she waited, not
knowing what else to do.

The lioness, having quenched her thirst (after some ferocious meal),
turned from the spring and, coming upon the veil, sniffed at it curiously,
tore and tossed it with her reddened jaws,--as she would have done with
Thisbe herself,--then dropped the plaything and crept away to the forest
once more.

It was but a little after this that Pyramus came hurrying to the
meeting-place, breathless with eagerness to find Thisbe and tell her what
had delayed him. He found no Thisbe there. For a moment he was confounded.
Then he looked about for some signs of her, som