e might be less juicy than this. Daphne followed the
shepherd god to a little clump of oak trees, where she saw a small,
rough gray tent, perhaps four feet in height. Under it, on brown
blankets, lay a bearded man, whose eyes lighted at Apollo's approach.
A blue bowl with a silver spoon in it stood on the ground near his
head, and a small heap of charred sticks with an overhanging kettle
showed that cooking had been done there.

"The shepherd has a touch of fever," explained the guide. "Meanwhile,
somebody must take care of the sheep. I am glad to get back my two
occupations as shepherd and physician at the same time."

The dog and his master accompanied her part way down the hill, and the
girl was silent, for her mind was busy, revolving many thoughts. At
the top of the last height above the villa she stopped and looked at
her companion. The sun was setting, and a golden haze filled the air.
It ringed with light the figure before her, standing there, the face,
with its beauty of color, and its almost insolent joyousness, rising
above the rough sheepskin coat.

"Who are you?" she gasped, terrified. "Who are you, really?" The
confused splendor dazzled her eyes, and she turned and ran swiftly down
the hill.

CHAPTER V

"A man is ill," observed Daphne, in the Roman tongue.

"What?" demanded Giacomo.

"A man is ill," repeated Daphne firmly. She had written it out, and
she knew that it was right.

"Her mind wanders," Giacomo hinted to his wife.

"No, no, no! It's the Signorina herself," cried Assunta, whose wits
were quicker than her husband's. "She is saying that she is ill. What
is it, Signorina mia? Is it your head, or your back, or your stomach?
Are you cold? Have you fever?"

"Si," answered Daphne calmly. The answer that usually quieted Assunta
failed now. Then she tried the smile. That also failed.

"Tell me," pleaded Assunta, speaking twice as fast as usual, in order
to move the Signorina's wits to quicker understanding. "If the
Signorina is ill the Contessa will blame me. It is measles perhaps;
Sor Tessa's children have it in the village." She felt of the girl's
forehead and pulse, and stood more puzzled than before.

"The Signorina exaggerates, perhaps?" she remarked in question.

"Thank you!" said Daphne beseechingly.

That was positively her last shot, and if it missed its aim she knew
not what to do. She saw that the two brown faces before her were full
of apprehension, and