'Extremely,' said he, 'for during sixteen long years, I had not a roof over my head.—I was an itinerant beggar!
'One summer's day, the cattle lay panting under the broad umbrage; the sun had burst into an immoderate fit of splendour, and the struggling brook chided the matted grass for obstructing it. I sat under a hedge, and began eating wild strawberries; when lo! a form, flexile as the flame ascending from a censer, and undulating with the sighs of a dying vestal, flitted inaudible by me, nor crushed the daisies as it trod. What a divinity! she was fresh as the Anadyomene of Apelles, and beautiful as the Gnidus of Praxitiles, or the Helen of Zeuxis. Her eyes dipt in Heaven's own hue.'——
'Sir,' said I, 'you need not mind her eyes: I dare say they were blue enough. But pray who was this immortal doll of your's?'
'Who!' cried he. 'Why who but—shall I speak it? Who but—the Lady Cherubina De Willoughby!!!'
'I!'
'You!'
'Ah! Montmorenci!'
'Ah! Cherubina! I followed you with cautious steps,' continued he, 'till I traced you into your—you had a garden, had you not?'
'Yes.'
'Into your garden. I thought ten thousand flowerets would have leapt from their beds to offer you a nosegay. But the age of gallantry is past, that of merchants, placemen, and fortune-hunters has succeeded, and the glory of Cupid is extinguished for ever!