I once beard of a man who did not believe that water could be changed to ice. […] The change from water to ice is a sort of metamorphosis you know. […] She saw in Enna a fountain, whose waters made a mournful murmuring, where she had never seen water before, and the veil of Proserpine lay beside it; this was all she could learn of what had happened. […] said the goddess to Arethusa, who was sitting on a stone, laving her feet in the running water. […] behold these innocent children; they have not tasted water this day!’