before daybreak to seek for her. With the gentlest speech which his rude lips knew how to frame, he urged these dainties upon Florimel, while she, fearing as much his love as his hate, could scarce eat, and trembled in every limb at the sound of his voice.
When the sun was half way up the sky, the monster departed to the wood to find other dainties for their guest, and Florimel sought her steed where she had left him the night before. To her great joy, he answered her voice with a glad whinny, and rose to his feet refreshed by the cool dews and the sweet herbage which he had eaten. The maiden mounted him at once, and as quickly as she could, made her way from the place where the ancient Hecate abode.
When the witch’s son found that the maiden had departed, his grief and rage were hideous to behold. He tore his matted hair, rent his flesh with his long nails, and howling like some savage beast, cast himself on the floor of the hut, refusing to rise or speak.
His mother, seeing him thus mad at the loss of Florimel, cast about for some means to overtake and bring her back to him. By her black arts she summoned to her aid a swift, horrible monster, with the keen scent of a blood-hound whom she commanded to follow Florimel and bring her back, without delay.
