Come!" He spoke hurriedly, as if he would thrust his desire to comfort between her and the wave of disconsolation that he felt was about to cover her.
Old Momus, sensibly accepting the boy's suggestion as the wisest course, raised Laodice and motioning the shepherd to lead on, led his young mistress up the hill as the boy retraced his steps.

The flood of Syrian sheep turned back with him and followed bleating between the urging of the sheep-dog, as the boy climbed.
On a slope to the west as a wady bent upon itself abruptly before it debouched upon the hillside, there was a deep glow illuminating a space in the depression.

The shepherd dropped down out of sight.

His voice came over the shuffle and bleat of the sheep.
"Follow me; this is my house." Momus led his mistress over to the wady.

There the shepherd with uplifted hands helped her down with the superior courtesy of a householder offering hospitality.