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comforted by the milk drawn from Shiegra. It was not old enough to know
what peril means; if it did not feel hunger it was content.
Softly the nymph stole to the side of the babe and knelt upon the sward, her
long robe of rose leaf color spreading about her like a gossamer cloud. Her
lovely countenance expressed curiosity and surprise, but, most of all, a
tender, womanly pity. The babe was newborn, chubby and pink. It was
entirely helpless. While the nymph gazed the infant opened its eyes, smiled
upon her, and stretched out two dimpled arms. In another instant Necile had
caught it to her breast and was hurrying with it through the forest paths.
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