earnest in her grief either to know or care whether Phœbus smiled or frowned.
'Phœbus!' exclaimed she, 'I am in great trouble, and have come to you for assistance. Can you tell me what has become of my dear child Proserpina?'
'Proserpina! Proserpina, did you call her name?' answered Phoebus, endeavouring to recollect; for there was such a continual flow of pleasant ideas in his mind, that he was apt to forget what had happened no longer ago than yesterday. 'Ah, yes, I remember her now. A very lovely child, indeed. I am happy to tell you, my dear madam, that I did see the little Proserpina not many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly easy about her. She is safe, and in excellent hands.'
'Oh, where is my dear child?' cried Ceres, clasping her hands and flinging herself at his feet.
'Why,' said Phœbus—and as he spoke he kept touching his lyre, so as to make a thread of music run in and out among his words—'as the little damsel was gathering flowers (and she has really a very exquisite taste for flowers), she was suddenly snatched up by King Pluto, and carried off to his dominions. I have never been in that part of the universe; but the royal palace, I am told, is built in a very noble style of architecture, and of the most splendid and costly materials. Gold, diamonds, pearls, and all manner of precious stones, will be your daughter's ordinary playthings. I recommend to you, my dear lady, to give yourself no uneasiness. Proserpina's sense of beauty will be duly gratified,
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