Page 174 of 788

The deserted Count long remained standing in the garden; his

soul, like the earth after sunset, gradually grew cool, and took

on dark colours. He began to muse, but he had very unpleasant

dreams; he awoke, not knowing himself with whom he was angry.

Alas, he had found little, and had had too great expectations!

For, when he was crawling over the field towards that

shepherdess, his head had burned and his heart leapt high; so

many charms had he seen in the mysterious nymph, so wondrously

had he decked her out, so many conjectures had he made! He had

found everything quite different; to be sure, she had a pretty

face, and a slender figure-but how lacking in elegance! And that

tender face and lively blush, which painted excessive, vulgar

happiness! Evidently her mind was still slumbering and her heart

inactive. And those replies, so village-like, so common!

"Why should I deceive myself?" he exclaimed; "I guess the secret,

too late! My mysterious nymph is simply feeding geese!"