rrows
against the inhabitants of the forest, discharges them pitilessly
against all poor shepherds who pass within reach of her bow and of her
eyes."

"Oh! what a wicked shepherdess!" said Madame. "She may some day
wound herself with one of those arrows she discharges, as you say, so
mercilessly on all sides."

"It is the hope of shepherds, one and all!" said Saint-Aignan.

"And that of the shepherd Amyntas in particular, I suppose?" said
Madame.

"The shepherd Amyntas is so timid," said Saint-Aignan, with the most
modest air he could assume, "that if he cherishes such a hope as that,
no one has ever known anything about it, for he conceals it in the
very depths of his heart." A flattering murmur of applause greeted this
profession of faith on behalf of the shepherd.

"And Galatea?" inquired Madame. "I am impatient to see a hand so
skillful as yours continue the portrait where Virgil left it, and finish
it before our eyes."

"Madame," said Saint-Aignan, "I am indeed a poor dumb post beside the
mighty Virgil. Still, encouraged by your desire, I will do my best."

Saint-Aignan extended his foot and hand, and thus began:--"White as
milk, she casts upon the breeze the perfume of her fair hair tinged with
golden hues, as are the ears of corn. One is tempted to inquire if she
is not the beautiful Europa, who inspired Jupiter with a tender passion
as she played with her companions in the flower-spangled meadows. From
her exquisite eyes, blue as azure heaven on the clearest summer day,
emanates a tender light, which reverie nurtures, and love dispenses.
When she frowns, or bends her looks towards the ground, the sun is
veiled in token of mourning. When she smiles, on the contrary, nature
resumes her jollity, and the birds, for a brief moment silenced,
recommence their songs amid the leafy covert of the trees. Galatea,"
said Saint-Aignan, in conclusion, "is worthy of the admiration of the
whole world; and if she should ever bestow her heart upon another, happy
will that man be to whom she consecrates her first affections."

Madame, who had attentively listened to the portrait Saint-Aignan
had drawn, as, indeed, had all the others, contented herself with
accentuating her approbation of the most poetic passage by occasional
inclinations of her head; but it was impossible to say if these marks of
assent were accorded to the ability of the narrator of the resemblance
of the portrait. The consequence, therefore, was, that a