“Enough! enough!” said the gentle voice of the girl, as the youth shook down in showers the leaves and nectareous odors of the overripe blossoms. “Enough! enough! stay thy hand, thou heedless ravager!”
“Thank thee for thy words, although they chide me,” said the boy, letting go the bough which he had just seized, with a bound, light as that of the shrub when it sprung upward from his hand. “Thou hast but one feeling in thy soul, Boidion; and thy nature belies the sunny clime which saw its birth. Friendship is all to thee, and that friendship is but for one.”
“In truth, thou repayest his cares but coldly,” said Leontium, taking the pipe from her mouth, and smiling on the dark haired maiden.
“But I repay not thine coldly,” said Boidion, kissing the hand of her friend.
“I am well punished for the neglect of my morning’s lecture,” said Sofron impatiently, as he snatched his book from the ground, and turned away.
“Part not in anger, brother!” exclaimed Boidion. But the youth had vanished, and in his place, Metrodorus and Theon stood before her.
The startled girl was about to rise, when Leontium laying her hand on her arm, “Rest thee, thou timid fawn,” and the maiden resumed her seat.
“I rejoice,” said Theon, as he placed himself with Metrodorus by the side of Leontium, and took up the pipe which had fallen from her hand, “I rejoice to find this little instrument restored to Athens.”
“Say not restored to Athens,” returned Leontium, “only admitted into the Garden. I doubt our vain youth still remember the curse of Alcibiades, and looking in their mirror, vow that none but fools would play on it.”
“This recalls to me,” said Theon, “that I have heard, among the various reports concerning the Garden current in the mouths of the Athenians, very contradictory ones as to the place allowed in it to the sciences and liberal arts, and to music in particular.”