Phaon clasped her closely, and joyously kissed her brow and lips.
The sky, the sea, the sun, everything near or distant that was bright and beautiful, was mirrored in their hearts, and it seemed to both as if they heard all creatures that sing, laugh, and rejoice.

Each thought that, in the other, he or she possessed the whole world with all its joy and happiness.

They were united, wholly united, there was nothing except themselves, and thus they became to each other an especially blissful world, beside which every other created thing sank into nothingness.
Minute after minute passed, nearly an hour had elapsed, and, instead of making garlands, Xanthe clasped her arms around Phaon's neck; instead of gazing into the distant horizon, she looked into his eyes; instead of watching for approaching steps, both listened to the same sweet words which lovers always repeat, and yet never grow weary of speaking and hearing.
The roses lay on the ground, the ship from Messina ran into the bay beside the estate, and Semestre hobbled down to the sea to look for Xanthe, and in the place of the master of the house receive her favorite's son, who came as a suitor, like a god.
She repeatedly called the girl's name before reaching the marble bench, but always in vain.
When she had at last reached the myrtle grove, which had concealed the lovers from her eyes, she could not help beholding the unwelcome sight.
Xanthe was resting her head on Phaon's breast, while he bent down and kissed her eyes, her mouth, and at last--who ever did such things in her young days ?--even her delicate little nose.
For several minutes Semestre's tongue seemed paralyzed, but at last she raised both arms, and a cry of mingled indignation and anguish escaped her lips.
Xanthe started up in terror, but Phaon remained sitting on the marble bench, held the young girl's hand in his own, and looked no more surprised than if some fruit had dropped from the tree beside him.
The youth's composure increased the old woman's fury, and her lips were just parting to utter a torrent of angry words, when Jason stepped as lightly as a boy between her and the betrothed lovers, cast a delighted glance at his favorites, and bowing with comic dignity to Semestre cried, laughing: "The two will be husband and wife, my old friend, and ought to ask your blessing, unless you wickedly intend to violate a solemn vow." "I will--I will! When did I--" shrieked the house-keeper.
"Didn't you," interrupted Jason, raising his voice--"didn't you vow this morning that you would prepare Phaon's wedding-feast with your own hands as soon as you yourself offered a sacrifice to the Cyprian goddess to induce her to unite their hearts ?" "And I'll stick to it, so surely as the gracious goddess--" "I hold you to your promise!" exclaimed Jason.

"Your sucking-pig has just been offered to Aphrodite.

The priest gladly accepted it and slaughtered it before my eyes, imploring the goddess with me, to fill Xanthe's heart with love for Phaon." The house-keeper clenched her hands, approached Jason, and so plainly showed her intention of attacking him that the steward, who had assailed many a wild-boar, retreated--by no means fearlessly.
She forced him back to the marble bench, screaming: "So that's why the priest found no word of praise for my beautiful pig! You're a thief, a cheat! You took my dear little pig, which all the other gods might envy the mother of Eros, put in its place a wretched animal just like yourself, and falsely said it came from me.