more than was good for her already; and when she saw her dress ruined, she flushed with anger, and cried—
"Sisters! you are all for courting this aunt of ours, eighteen times removed; but I am not afraid of her, and you may just court her for the future by yourselves."
Then she got up and left the room. The Lady Wind flew into a terrible rage, and exclaiming, "That little girl has found the wine too much for her, in daring to insult me so," she gathered up her robes and prepared to depart. All the sylphs implored her not to go away, but without avail. Then they tried to calm her anger, saying, "Pomegranate is very young, and just now is not quite herself; pray forget what she has done, and to-morrow we will bring her to beg pardon." As, however, nothing would appease the Lady Wind, they accompanied her to the door, and off she flounced in high dudgeon towards the east. Then the sylphs trooped back, and, taking a graceful leave of their entertainer, moved towards a place where the flowers grew thickest, and disappeared.
Up sprang the philosopher, and gave chase. But in his hurry his foot slipped, and he fell sprawling upon his back; and when he picked himself up again there was not one of them in sight. Then he sat down and began to think seriously over what had happened. Could it have been a dream? He was sure he had not been asleep. Were they ghosts? Surely not; their robes were too beautiful, their utterance too distinct, for anything evil. And yet, supposing them to be human beings, how could they have disappeared so suddenly, without leaving so much as a shadow behind them? It was an impenetrable mystery, so far; and the good sage was utterly perplexed. Then he went back into his
