THE CHIMÆRA
‘I have some reason to think otherwise,’ said Bellerophon quietly.
And then he turned to an old, gray man, who was leaning on a staff, and listening very attentively, with his head stretched forward, and one hand at his ear, because, for the last twenty years, he had been getting rather deaf.
‘And what say you, venerable sir?’ inquired he. ‘In your younger days, I should imagine you must frequently have seen the winged steed!’
‘Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor!’ said the aged man. ‘When I was a lad, if I remember rightly, I used to believe there was such a horse, and so did everybody else. But, nowadays, I hardly know what to think, and very seldom think about the winged horse at all. If I ever saw the creature, it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the truth, I doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I was quite a youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps round about the brink of the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks; and so might some other horse.’
‘And have you never seen him, my fair maiden?’ asked Bellerophon of the girl, who stood with the pitcher on her head, while this talk went on. ‘You certainly could see Pegasus, if anybody can, for your eyes are very bright.’
‘Once I thought I saw him,’ replied the maiden, with a smile and a blush. ‘It was either Pegasus, or a large white bird, a very great way up in the air. And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain with my pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh as that was! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound.
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