"In turpes abiere feras quicunque biberunt
Dulcia Circæa pocula mixtu manu."
"Pray, now, tell me what it means?"
And Tausdorf, confused, translated it: "All were turned into vile brutes who drank of the sweet cup that was mixed by the hand of Circe."
"Now I am as wise as before," rejoined the boy. "Who was this Circe? She is right handsome here in the picture; but then she looks at the poor knights with such hateful eyes that I can't bear her."
"She was a wicked enchantress of the old heathen time," said Tausdorf. "To all voyagers who visited her island, she offered a rich draught, and when they drank of it, she touched them with her magic rod, and they became beasts."
"But why did the foolish people drink of it?"
"They knew not the evil consequences," replied Tausdorf, leaning his heavy head in his hand, "or they had not done so."
"Ah! they should have been more on their guard with strange cunning women," rejoined Henry. "You certainly would not have drank of it, Herr Tausdorf!"
"Who knows, my child?" said Tausdorf, the innocent remark going to his heart: "Perhaps I might."