The Shepherdess
97
drowsy flowers. Far out on the fields, the syrinx awoke gently, with a song of twilight calling the scattered flocks.
Lysidice was going home; and with her was going, not Archias of Paphos, but Archias the lover, on whom Pan smiled . . .
The old man, returning by the grove, saw the two young figures.
"It is not for long that they dance alone," he murmured to himself. "There was a time when I, also . . ."
