ABSTRACT
The women sat under the pretty laurel in the cool shade; and having removed the lovely garlands from their blond heads, and likewise their shoes, some of them tried out the cold waters with their white feet; others opened tight sleeves and collars and took the thin veils from their heads; and since the wind had stopped, with their veils they summoned the fresh breezes–perhaps as years ago Cephalus used to call Procris to him with evil augury for her. 1
