They then extricated the unhappy goat, who had both his horns broken by the fall, and thus suffered a just punishment for his revenge towards his defeated fellow-combatant. They gave him to the herdsman as a reward for his assistance, and if the family at home inquired after him, were prepared to say that he had been destroyed by a wolf. After this they returned to see whether their flocks were safe, and finding both goats and sheep feeding quietly and orderly, they sat down on the trunk of a tree and began to examine whether Daphnis had received any wound. No hurt or blood was to be seen, but his hair and all the rest of his person were covered with mud and dirt. Daphnis thought it would be best to wash himself, before Lamon and Myrtale should find out what had happened to him; proceeding with Chloe to the Grotto of the Nymphs, he gave her his tunic and scrip in charge.[10]
He then approached the fountain and washed his hair and his whole person. His hair was long and black, and his body sun-burnt; one might have imagined that its hue was derived from the overshadowing of his locks. Chloe thought him beautiful, and because she had never done so before, attributed his beauty to the effects of the bath. As she was washing his back and shoulders his tender flesh yielded to her hand, so that, unobserved, she frequently touched her own skin, in order to ascertain which of the two was softer. The sun was now setting, so they drove home their flocks, the only wish in Chloe's mind being to see Daphnis bathe again. The following day, upon returning to the accustomed pasture, Daphnis sat as usual under an oak, playing upon his pipe and surveying his goats lying down and apparently listening to his strains. Chloe, on her part, sitting near him, looked at her sheep, but more frequently turned her eyes upon Daphnis; again he appeared to her beautiful as he was playing upon his pipe, and she attributed his beauty to the melody, so that taking the pipe she played upon it, in order, if possible, to appear beautiful herself. She persuaded him to bathe again, she looked at him when in the bath, and while looking at him, touched his skin: after which, as she returned home, she mentally admired him, and this admiration was the beginning of love. She knew not the meaning of her feelings, young as she was, and brought up in the country, and never having heard from any one, so much as the name of love. She felt an oppression at her heart, she could not restrain her eyes from gazing upon him, nor her mouth from often pronouncing his name. She took no food, she lay awake at night, she neglected her flock, she laughed and wept by turns; now she would doze, then suddenly start up; at one moment her face became pale, in another moment it burnt with blushes. Such irritation is not felt even by the breeze-stung heifer.[11] Upon one occasion, when alone, she thus reasoned with herself.—"I am no doubt ill, but what my malady is I know not; I am in pain, and yet I have no wound; I feel grief, and yet I have lost none of my flock; I burn, and yet am sitting in the shade: how often have brambles torn my skin, without my shedding a single tear! how often have the bees stung me, yet I could still enjoy my meals! Whatever it is which now wounds my heart, must be sharper than either of these. Daphnis is beautiful, so are the flowers; his pipe breathes sweetly, so does the nightingale; yet I take no account either of birds or flowers. Would that I could become a pipe, that he might play upon me! or a goat, that I might pasture under his care! Ο cruel fountain, thou madest Daphnis alone beautiful; my bathing has been all in vain! Dear Nymphs, ye see me perishing, yet neither do ye endeavour to save the maiden brought up among you! Who will crown you with flowers when I am gone? Who will take care of my poor lambs? Who will attend to my chirping locust, which I caught with so much trouble, that its song might lull me to rest in the grotto; but now I am sleepless, because of Daphnis, and my locust chirps in vain!"
Such were the feelings, and such the words of Chloe, while as yet ignorant of the name of love. But Dorco the cowherd (the same who had drawn Daphnis and the goat out of the pit), a young fellow who already boasted of some beard upon his chin, and who knew not merely the name but the realities of love, had become enamoured of Chloe, from the first time of meeting her. Feeling his passion increase day by day, and despising Daphnis, whom he looked upon as a mere boy, he determined to effect his purpose either by gifts or by dint of force. At first he made presents to them both; he gave Daphnis a shepherd's pipe, having its nine reeds[12] connected with metal in lieu of wax. He presented Chloe with a fawn skin, spotted all over, such as is worn by the Bacchantes. Having thus insinuated himself into their friendship, he by degrees neglected Daphnis, but every day brought something to Chloe, either a delicate cheese, or a chaplet of flowers, or a ripe apple. On one occasion he brought her a mountain calf, a gilt drinking cup, and the nestlings[13] of a wild bird. She, ignorant as she was of love's artifices, received his gifts with pleasure;[14] chiefly pleased, however, at having something to give Daphnis. One day it happened that Dorco and he (for he likewise was destined to experience the pains and penalties of love) had an argument on the subject of their respective share of beauty. Chloe was to be umpire, and the victor's reward was to be a kiss from her. Dorco, thus began—
"Maiden," said he, "I am taller than Daphnis, I am also a cowherd, he, a goatherd, I therefore excel him as far as oxen are superior to goats; I am fair as milk, and my hair brown as the ripe harvest field; moreover, I had a mother to bring me up, not a goat. He, on the other hand is short, beardless as a woman, and has a skin as tawny as a wolf; while, from tending he-goats, he has contracted a goatish smell; he is also so poor, that he cannot afford to keep even a dog; and if it be true that a nanny gave him suck, he is no better[15] than a nanny's son."
Such was Dorco's speech; it was next the turn of Daphnis—
"It is true," said he, "that a she-goat suckled me, and so did a she-goat suckle Jove; I tend he-goats and will bring them into better condition than his oxen, but I smell of them no more than Pan does, who has in him more of a goat than any thing else. I am content with cheese, coarse bread,[16] and white wine, the food suitable for country folk. I am beardless, so is Bacchus; I am dark complexioned, so is the hyacinth; yet Bacchus is preferred before the satyr and the hyacinth[17] before the lily. Now look at him, he is as sandy haired as a fox, bearded as a goat, and smock-faced as any city wench. If you have to bestow a kiss, it will be given to my mouth, whereas it will be thrown away upon his bristles. Remember also, maiden, that you owe your nurture to a sheep, and yet this has not marred your beauty."
Chloe could restrain herself no longer, but partly from pleasure at his praising her, partly from a desire of kissing him, she sprang forward and bestowed upon him the prize; an artless and unsophisticated kiss,[18] but one well calculated to set his heart on fire. Upon this, Dorco, in great disgust, took himself off, determined to seek some other way of wooing. Daphnis, as though he had been stung instead of kissed, became suddenly grave, felt a shivering all over, and could not control the beating of his heart. He wished to gaze upon Chloe, but at the first glance his face was suffused with blushes. For the first time he admired her hair, because it was auburn; and her eyes, because they were large[19] and brilliant; her countenance, because it was fairer than even the milk of his own she-goats. One might have supposed that he had just received the faculty of sight, having had till then, "no speculation" in his eyes.[20]
From this moment, he took no food beyond the merest morsel, no drink beyond what would just moisten his lips. Formerly more chattering than the locusts, he became mute; he was now dull and listless, whereas he had been more nimble than the goats. His flock was neglected, his pipe was thrown aside; his face became paler than the summer-parched herbage. Chloe alone could rouse his powers of speech; whenever he was absent from her, he would thus fondly soliloquize:—
"What will be the result of this kiss of Chloe? her lips are softer than rose-buds, and her mouth is sweeter than the honeycomb, but this kiss has left a sting sharper than the sting of a bee!—I have frequently kissed the kids, and the young puppies, and the calf which Dorco gave me, but this kiss of Chloe is something quite new and wonderful! My breath is gone, my heart pants, my spirit sinks within me and dies away; and yet I wish to kiss again![21] My victory has been the source of sorrow and of a new disease, which I know not how to name. Could Chloe have tasted poison before she permitted me to kiss her? If so, how is it that she survives? How sweetly the nightingales sing, while my pipe is mute! How gaily the kids skip and play, while I sit listlessly by! The flowers are in full beauty, yet I weave no garlands! The violets and the hyacinths are blooming, while Daphnis droops and fades away. Alas! shall Dorco ever appear more beautiful in Chloe's eyes, than I do!"
Such were the sensations of the worthy Daphnis, and thus he vented his feelings. He now first felt the power, and now first uttered the language of—LOVE.