V
[The glen, down which a limpid and murmuring brook descends, with numerous tiny cascades and pools. Beside one of the latter, underneath a great beech-tree, and sitting on the root of it, Aphrodite, alone. Enter from below, concealed at first by the undergrowth, Ares. It is mid-day.]
Aphrodite [to herself].
Here he comes at last, and from the opposite direction.... No! that cannot be Phœbus.... Ah! it is you, then!
Ares.
Is it possible? Your Majesty—and alone!