are you?" cried a little voice that could
be none other than Pensive's, and the swallow alighted on the head of
her master.

"Courage!" said she; "the wolves are still far off. There is a spring
close by where you can quench your thirst and stanch your bleeding
wounds, and I have found a hidden path which will lead us to Paestum."

Graceful and Fido dragged themselves along to the brook, trembling
with hope and fear; then entered the obscure path, a little reanimated
by the soft twittering of Pensive. The sun had set; they walked in the
twilight for some hours, and, when the moon rose, they were out of
danger. They had still to journey over a painful and dangerous road
for those who no longer had the ardor of the morning. There were
marshes to cross, ditches to leap, and thickets to break through,
which tore Graceful's face and hands; but at the thought that he could
still repair his fault and save his grandmother his heart was so light
that his strength redoubled at every step with his hope. At last,
after a thousand obstacles, they reached Paestum just as the stars
marked midnight.

Graceful threw himself on the pavement of the temple of Neptune, and,
after thanking Pensive, fell asleep, with Fido at his feet, wounded,
bleeding, and silent.

IV

The sleep was not long. Graceful was up before daybreak, which seemed
long in coming. On descending the steps of the temple he saw the ants,
who had raised a heap of sand and were bringing grain from the new
harvest. The whole republic was in motion. The ants were all going or
coming, talking to their neighbors, and receiving or giving orders;
some were dragging wisps of straw, others were carrying bits of wood,
others conveying away dead flies, and others heaping up provisions; it
was a complete winter establishment.

"What!" said Graceful to the ants, "are you not going to the Castle of
Life? Do you renounce immortality?"

"We have worked long enough," answered one of the laborers; "the time
for harvest has come. The road is long and the future uncertain, and
we are rich. Let fools count on to-morrow; the wise man uses to-day.
When a person has hoarded riches honestly it is true philosophy to
enjoy them."

Fido thought that the ant was right; but, as he no longer dared
advise, he contented himself with shaking his head as they set out.
Pensive, on the contrary, said that the ant was a selfish fellow, and
that, if life were made only for enjoyment, the butterfly