Boy. The driver, enraged at not getting what he had demanded, drove them on a lumpy road. The horses, in struggling with all their might to drag the wheels as they stuck in the deep mud, broke in pieces the pole of the carriage and the horse-collars. Then the tyres, together with the nails, were torn off. The reckless driver, with blind rage, had put the brake on the wheel. He is now angrily repairing the damage and blaspheming all the gods, and cursing the passengers with the most terrible imprecations.
Phil. May his curses recoil on his own head!
Boy. I think they will leave the carriage behind and get into a cart, which is going, unladen, to Boulogne. Glaucus and Diomedes had got on a boat, but the boatman declared that against this wind they could not make way with their oars and poles. Also they say that the horses which pull boats up the stream are all at work, so I know not by what means the boat could be drawn. So they have not yet loosened the stern-rope.
Phil. Is there any news as to the boat fare?
Plan. Absolutely none.
Phil. That is extraordinary. I guess what will happen. They won’t reach Boulogne before nightfall.
Misi. What of that! Let us take all to-morrow for refreshing our minds. But look how softly the river flows by! What a delightful murmur there is of the full crystal water amongst the golden rocks! Do you hear the nightingale and the goldfinch? Of a truth, the country round Paris is most delightful!
Phil. What sight can be equal to this? How placidly the Seine flows in its current, how that small ship with its full sail before a favourable breeze is borne along! It is marvellous how minds are restored by all these things. Oh, how the meadow is clothed as by magic art.
Misi. And, moreover, by what a marvellous Artist!