Hera.
I must beg you to leave me, or to remain perfectly motionless. I am excessively agitated.
Eros.
I followed the being which is hanging downwards from that spray of blossom. Does it recall some one to you?
Hera.
Not in its present position. But I will not pretend, Eros, that it is not the source of my agitation. Look at it now, as it flings itself round the stalk, and opens and waves its fans. Do you still not comprehend?
Eros.
I see nothing in it now. I am disappointed.
Hera.