“That is both cruel and unjust,” sighed Nemesianus, “for that which you refuse to us poor fellows you grant to another, who can obtain everything that other mortals yearn for.”
“But we,” interrupted his brother, “are modest, nay, and pious warriors. We had intended offering up these roses to Aphrodite, but lo! the goddess has met us in person.”
“Her image at any rate,” added the other.
“And you should thank the foam-born goddess,” continued Apollonaris; “for she has lent you, in spite of the danger of seeing herself eclipsed, her own divine charms. Do you think she will be displeased if we withdraw the flowers and offer them to you?”
“I think nothing,” answered Melissa, “excepting that your honeyed remarks annoy me. Do what you like with your roses, I will not accept them.”
“How dare you,” asked Apollonaris, approaching her—“you, to whom the mother of love has given such wonderfully fresh lips—misuse them by refusing so sternly the humble petition of her faithful worshipers? If you would not have Aphrodite enraged with you, hasten to atone for this transgression. One kiss, my beauty, for her votary, and she will forgive you.”
Here Apollonaris stretched out his hand toward the girl to draw her to him, but she motioned him back indignantly, declaring that it would be reprehensible and cowardly in a soldier to use violence toward a modest maid.
At this the two brothers laughed heartily, and Nemesianus exclaimed, “You do not belong to the Temple of Vesta, most lovely of roses, and yet you are well protected by such sharp thorns that it requires a great deal of courage to venture to attack you.”
“More,” added Apollonaris, “than to storm a fortress. But what camp or stronghold contains booty so well worth capturing?”
Thereupon he threw his arm round Melissa and drew her to him.