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 ‘Here am I, dear Bellerophon!’ said the child softly.

For the little boy had spent day after day, on the margin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back; but when he perceived Bellerophon descending through the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had shrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender child, and dreaded lest the old man and the country fellow should see the tears gushing from his eyes.

‘Thou hast won the victory,’ said he joyfully, running to the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. ‘I knew thou wouldst.’

‘Yes, dear child!’ replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged horse. ‘But if thy faith had not helped me, I should never have waited for Pegasus, and never have gone up above the clouds, and never have conquered the terrible Chimæra. Thou, my beloved little friend, hast done it all. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty.’

So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the marvellous steed.

‘Be free, for evermore, my Pegasus!’ cried he, with a shade of sadness in his tone. ‘Be as free as thou art fleet!’

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon’s shoulder, and would not be persuaded to take flight.

‘Well then,’ said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, ‘thou shalt be with me, as long as thou wilt; and we will go together, forthwith, and tell King Iobates that the Chimæra is destroyed.’

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and