The next morning, at daybreak, Pensive called her young
master.
“Let us go,” said she; "the tide is already rising on the
shore, the birds are singing, the bees are humming, and the
flowers are opening in the sun. Let us go; it 15 time.”
“Wait a moment,” said Fido. "The day’s journey 1s
not long; before noon we shall be in sight of the temples
of Pzstum, where we are to stop for the night."
“The ants are already on the way,” returned Pensive;
“the road is harder than yesterday, and the weather more
uncertain. Let us go."
Graceful had seen his grandmother smiling on him in his
dreams, and he set out on his way with even greater ardor
than the day before. The morning was glorious; on the
right the blue waves broke with a gentle murmur on the
strand: on the left, in the distance, the mountains were
tinged with a roseate hue; the plain was covered with tall
grass sprinkled with flowers; the road was lined with aloes,
jujubes, and acanthuses, and before them lay a cloudless
horizon. Graceful, ravished with hope and pleasure, fancied
himself already at the end of his journey. Fido bounded