Then a large tear gathered in the corner of her left eye.
Byblis had never before wept. She believed that she was about to die, and sighed as if divine solace had come to her aid in a mysterious way.
The tear grew, trembled, became larger still and then suddenly trickled down her cheek.
Byblis remained motionless with fixed eyes in the light of the moon.
Then a large tear filled the corner of her right eye. It grew like the other and trickled down her right cheek.
Two other tears came, two burning drops which flowed down the moist track made by the other. They reached the corner of her mouth; a delightful bitterness overcame the worn-out child.
Then never more would her hand touch the beloved hand of Caunos. Never more would she see the gleam of his black eyes, his dear head, and wavy hair. Never again would they sleep side by side in each other’s arms upon the same bed of leaves. The forests no longer knew his name.
An overwhelming outburst of despair made Byblis hide her face in her hands, but such an abundance of tears moistened her inflamed cheeks that she seemed to feel a miraculous spring washing away her sufferings like dead leaves upon the waters of a torrent.
The tears which had been gradually born in her, rose to her eyes, welled up, overflowed, trickled in a warm flood over her cheeks, bathed her tiny breasts and fell upon her entwined legs. She did not feel them trickle one by one between her long lashes: they were a gentle and never-ending stream, an inexhaustible flood, the outpouring of an enchanted sea.
But awakened by the moonlight the deities of the forest had gathered from every side. The bark of the trees became transparent and allowed the faces of the nymphs to be seen; and even the quivering naiads left the water and the rocks and came into the woods.