In the mean time Dorco, the cowherd, who entertained a passion for Chloe, watched an opportunity of addressing Dryas on the subject; and finding him one day employed in planting a tree near one of his vines, he approached carrying with him some fine cheeses.[22] First of all he begged Dryas to accept of the cheeses as a present from an old acquaintance and fellow herdsman; and then informed him of the affection which he cherished towards his daughter Chloe. He promised that, if he should be so happy as to obtain her for his wife, he was prepared to offer him gifts, many and handsome, as a cowherd could bestow,—a yoke of oxen fit for the plough, four hives of bees, fifty young apple trees for planting, the hide of an ox, suitable for shoe leather, and a weaned calf annually.
Dryas was almost tempted by these promises to give his assent to the marriage; but on the other hand, reflecting that the maiden was deserving of a better match, and fearing lest if ever discovered, he might get himself into great trouble, he refused his assent, at the same time intreating Dorco not to be affronted, and declining to accept the gifts which he had enumerated.
Dorco being thus a second time disappointed of his hope, and having given his cheese away to no purpose, conceived a plan of attacking Chloe by force, whenever he should find her alone; and having observed that she and Daphnis, on alternate days, conducted the herds to drink, he contrived a scheme, worthy of a neatherd's brain. A large wolf had been killed by his bull, who fought in defence of the herd; Dorco[23] threw this wolf's skin over him, so that it completely covered his back, reaching to the ground, and he adjusted it in such a manner, that the skins of the fore feet were fitted over his hands, while those of the hind feet spread down his legs to the very heels. The head, with its gaping jaws, encased him as completely as a soldier's helmet.
Having thus "be-wolfed" himself as much as possible, he withdrew to the spring, where the sheep and goats usually drank as they returned from pasture. The spring was in a hollow, and around it the furze, brambles, junipers, and thistles were so thick, that a real wolf might easily choose it as a lair. Here Dorco concealed himself, and anxiously waited for the time when the flocks should come to drink, and when Chloe, as he hoped, would be so startled and terrified by his appearance that he might easily seize her.
He had not remained long, when Chloe conducted the flock to the spring, leaving Daphnis employed in cutting green leaves as fodder for the kids in the evening. The dogs (the guardians of the sheep and goats) accompanied Chloe, and scenting[24] about with their usual sagacity, discovered Dorco, who was in the act of moving. Taking him for a wolf they burst into full cry, rushed upon him, and seizing him before he could recover from his astonishment, fixed their teeth in the skin. This covering for a time protected him, and the shame of a discovery operated so strongly that he lay quiet in the thicket; but when Chloe, in her alarm at the first onset of the dogs, had called Daphnis to her aid, and when the skin was torn off by his assailants, so that they at length seized his flesh, he bawled out, entreating the assistance of the maiden and of Daphnis, who had now arrived at the spot. The dogs were easily appeased by the well-known voices of their master and mistress, who took Dorco and conveyed him to the spring (soundly bitten in the thighs and shoulders), where they washed his wounds, and chewing some fresh elm bark spread it as a salve. Innocent themselves, and totally ignorant of the desperate enterprizes of lovers, they imagined that Dorco's disguise was a mere piece of rustic sport, and, so far from being angry with him, they did their best to comfort him, led him by the hand, part of the way home—and bade him farewell.
Dorco, after his narrow escape from the dog's, and not (according to the old adage) from the wolf's mouth, retired home to nurse his wounds. Daphnis and Chloe had great trouble during the remainder of the day in collecting their sheep and goats, which, terrified at the sight of the wolf, and by the barking of the dogs, had fled in different directions: some had climbed the rocks, others had run down to the shore. They had, indeed, been instructed to obey their master's call; in any alarm the pipe was usually sufficient to soothe them, and if they were scattered, a clapping of the hands would collect them; but the late sudden alarm had made them forget their former discipline, so that Daphnis and Chloe were compelled to track them, as they do hares; and with much difficulty and trouble they brought them back to their cottages. That night only the young man and maiden enjoyed sound sleep, their fatigue furnishing a remedy for the pains of love. But with the morning their usual sensations returned. When they met,—they rejoiced; when they parted,—they were sad. They pined with grief. They wished for a something, but they knew not what. This only they were aware of, that the one had lost peace of mind by a kiss, the other by a bath.
The season,[25] moreover, added fuel to their fire; it was now the end of spring; the summer had begun, and all things were in the height of their beauty. The trees were covered with fruit; the fields with corn. Charming was the chirp of the grasshoppers; sweet was the smell of the fruit; and the bleating of the flocks was delightful. You might fancy the rivers[26] to be singing, as they gently flowed along, the winds to be piping, as they breathed[27] through the pines; and the apples to be falling to the ground, sick of love; and that the sun, fond of gazing upon natural beauty, was forcing every one to throw off their garments. Daphnis felt all the warmth of the season, and plunged into the rivers; sometimes he only bathed himself; sometimes he amused himself with pursuing the fish, which darted in circles around him; and sometimes he drank of the stream, as if to extinguish the flame which he felt within. Chloe, when she had milked the goats and the sheep, had great difficulty in setting her cream, for the flies were very troublesome, and if driven away, they would bite her; after her work was done, she washed her face, crowned herself with a garland of pine-leaves, put on her girdle of fawn-skin, and filled a pail with wine and milk as a beverage for herself and Daphnis. As mid-day heat came on, the eyes of both were fascinated; she, beholding the naked and faultless figure of Daphnis, was ready to melt with love; Daphnis, on the other hand, beholding Chloe in her fawn-skin girdle and with the garland of pine-leaves on her head, holding out the milk-pail to him, fancied he beheld one of the Nymphs of the Grot, and taking the garland from her head, he placed it on his own, first covering it with kisses; while she, after often kissing it, put on his dress, which he had stripped off in order to bathe. Sometimes they began in sport to pelt[28] each other with apples, and amused themselves with adorning each other's hair, carefully dividing it. She compared the black hair of Daphnis to myrtle-berries; while he likened her cheeks to apples,[29] because the white was suffused with red. He then taught her to play on the pipe;—when she began to breathe into it, he snatched it from her, ran over the reeds with his own lips, and under pretence of correcting her mistakes, he in fact kissed her through the medium of his pipe.
While he was thus playing in the heat of the noon-day, and their flocks around them were reposing in the shade, Chloe imperceptibly fell asleep. Daphnis laid down his pipe, and while gazing upon her whole person with insatiable eyes, there being no one to inspire him with shame; he thus murmured, directing his words to her:—"What eyes are those, which are now closed in sleep! what a mouth is that, which breathes so sweetly! no apples, no thickets, exhale so delicious a scent! Ah! but I fear to kiss her! a kiss consumes me, and like new honey,[30] maddens me! besides, a kiss would wake her! A plague upon those chirping grasshoppers, their shrill notes will disturb my Chloe! those vexatious goats, too, are clashing their horns together; surely the wolves are grown more cowardly than foxes, that they do not come and seize them!"
As he was thus soliloquizing, he was interrupted by a grasshopper, which in springing from a swallow which pursued it, fell into Chloe's bosom. The swallow was unable to take its prey, but hovered over Chloe's cheek and touched it with its wings. The maiden screamed and started; but seeing the swallow still fluttering near her, and Daphnis laughing at her alarm, her fear vanished, and she rubbed her eyes, which were still disposed to sleep. The grasshopper chirped from her bosom, as if in gratitude for his deliverance. At the sound Chloe screamed again; at which Daphnis laughed, and availing himself of the opportunity, put his hand into her bosom and drew the happy chirper from its place, which did not cease its note even when in his hand; Chloe was pleased at seeing the innocent cause of her alarm, kissed it, and replaced it, still singing, in her bosom.
At this moment they were delighted with listening to a ring-dove in the neighbouring wood, and upon Chloe's inquiring what the bird meant by its note, Daphnis told her the legend, which was commonly current:—"There was a maiden, my love, who, like yourself, was beautiful; like yourself, she tended large herds of cattle; and, like yourself, she was in the flower of youth. She sang sweetly;—so sweetly, that the herds were delighted with her song, and needed neither the crook nor the goad to manage them; they obeyed her voice; and remaining near listened to the maid, as she sat under the shade of the pine crowned with a garland of its leaves, and singing the praises of Pan,[31] and the nymph Pitys. A youth, who pastured his herds at a little distance, and who was handsome, and fond as herself of melody, vied with her in singing; as he was a man, his tones were deeper, but as he was young, they were very sweet. He sang, and charmed away eight of her best cows to his own pastures. The maiden was mortified at the loss of her cattle, and at being so much surpassed in song; and, in her despair, prayed the gods to convert her into a bird before she reached her home. The gods assented to her prayer, and metamorphosed her into a bird; under which form, as of old, she frequents the mountains, and delights in warbling. Her note bespeaks her misfortune, for she is calling her wandering cows."