“Well, much as I do. I do not know that I want any change, except I think I should like it to be always summer.”
“And I would have perpetual spring,” said Euphrosyne.
“But, summer or spring, what would be your favorite pursuit?”
“Well, dancing is very nice,” said Madame Phoebus.
“But we cannot always, be dancing,” said Lothair.
“Then we would sing,” said Euphrosyne.
“But the time comes when one can neither dance nor sing,” said Lothair.
“Oh, then we become part of the audience,” said Madame Phoebus, “the people for whose amusement everybody labors.”
“And enjoy power without responsibility,” said Euphrosyne, “detect false notes and mark awkward gestures. How can any one doubt of Providence with such a system of constant compensation!”
There was something in the society of these two sisters that Lothair began to find highly attractive. Their extraordinary beauty, their genuine and unflagging gayety, their thorough enjoyment of existence, and the variety of resources with which they made life amusing and graceful, all contributed to captivate him. They had, too, a great love and knowledge both of art and nature, and insensibly they weaned Lothair from that habit of introspection which, though natural to him, he had too much indulged, and taught him to find sources of interest and delight in external objects. He was beginning to feel happy in this islands and wishing that his life might never change, when one day Mr. Phoebus informed them that the Prince Agathonides, the eldest son of the Prince of Samos, would arrive from Constantinople in a few days, and would pay them a visit. “He will come with some retinue,” said Mr. Phoebus, “but I trust we shall be able by our reception to show that the Cantacuzenes are not the only princely family in the world.”