So the Rose-Mallow prepared to follow the Princess's advice, and to leave the lilies, and lupins, and all the sweets of the garden behind him.
As Myra turned to go, she noticed that the Violet had drooped and lay panting. She hurried to fetch it some water, for which it returned her modest thanks. She wondered what ailed it to faint in the cool of the morning, when the earth was yet damp with early rain. Then it struck her that the Violet's love for the Rose-Mallow would be of no use if he found the Evening Primrose. "And I suppose that would make her unhappy," she said aloud, as she plucked a bunch of heartsease and placed it in her dress, the wonder in her eyes deepening into an expression of grave, severe thoughtfulness.
III.
Protected by a hedge of myrtle, in the heart of a mighty forest, Love had fashioned his bower. His couch was strewn with honey-flowers and rose-leaves. Stately red
chrysanthemums made splashes of crimson brilliance against the dark green of the scented myrtle. Pink carnations, roses of every hue, sweetbriar, ambrosia, balsams, forget-me-nots, and every flower sacred to the great god, Love, grew in profusion, to make his bower into a resting-place worthy of him.
He lay tossing on his fragrant couch in a fit of anger. For some time Princess Myra's disdain of all the great princes and nobles whom he had sent to woo her had offended him deeply. But on this particular afternoon his messengers had informed him of the maiden's morning interview with the Rose-Mallow, and of the question she had asked with regard to himself. Unable to forget the Princess's impertinence, he lay brooding and fretting, until the position of the sun warned him that the day was passing away.
"What is this Love for which the whole earth pines?" he murmured, as he bounded from his couch into a cluster of forget-me-nots. "Ah! I will teach thee. Thou shalt learn, ere the day is dead, what Love is. In the semblance of an earthly prince, I will woo thee myself. I will adore thee, sweet Myra, gaze into thine eyes, and pretend that there is only one woman in all the world for me. I will do as men do—pet thee, and coax thee, and win thy
affections by the thousand little nothings that make up a courtship. When I have conquered thee, and thy heart is mine, I will break it and trample it under foot, and leave thee all thy life a remembrance of the power of Love. Thou shalt never hear sweet music, but a desperate longing for my presence shall come over thee. Thou shalt never see a rose, but thy heart shall bleed. The sight of a lark, winging his morning flight heavenwards, shall draw tears to thy weary eyes. Ah! woe betide the mortal maid when Eros is her lover!"
"These," he said, choosing a hundred chrysanthemums, "shall be my escort."
As he spoke, the flowers were transformed into a hundred gallant knights; their dresses were of crimson brocade, and on their heads were caps of chrysanthemum petals. Then Love took up honey-flowers and rose-leaves, and changed them into a suit of rich purple silk.