THE FAUN AND NYMPH.
109
"It is your kinsman Pan, most likely," said Miriam, "playing on his pipe. Let us go seek him, and make him puff out his rough cheeks and pipe his merriest air! Come; the strain of music will guide us onward like a gayly colored thread of silk."
"Or like a chain of flowers," responded Donatello, drawing her along by that which he had twined. "This way!—Come!"
