‘Where is Nox?’ said Jove. ‘Everything goes wrong. Who ever heard of a mist in Heaven?’
‘My candle is out,’ said Apollo.
‘And mine, too,’ said Mars.
‘And mine, and mine, and mine,’ said Mercury and Ganymede, and the Muses and the Graces.
‘All the candles are out!’ said Cupid; ‘a regular fog. I cannot even see the pavilion: it must be hereabouts, though,’ said the God to himself. ‘So, so; I should be at home in my own pavilion, and am tolerably accustomed to stealing about in the dark. There is a step; and here, surely, is the lock. The door opens, but the cloud enters before me. Juno, Juno,’ whispered the God of Love, ‘we are all here. Be contented to escape, like many other innocent dames, with your reputation only under a cloud: it will soon disperse; and lo! the heaven is clearing.’
‘It must have been the heat of our flambeaux,’ said Venus; ‘for see, the mist is vanished; here is the pavilion.’
Ganymede ran forward, and dashed open the door. Ixion was alone.
‘Seize him!’ said Jove.
‘Juno is not here,’ said Mercury, with an air of blended congratulation and disappointment.
‘Never mind,’ said Jove; ‘seize him! He kept me waiting for dinner.’