initial commit of ebook 15432HEADmain

9 files changed, 15849 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/15432-8.txt b/15432-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9c7824d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4678 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Henry Brocken, by Walter J. de la Mare
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Henry Brocken
+       His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance
+
+
+Author: Walter J. de la Mare
+
+Release Date: March 21, 2005  [eBook #15432]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+HENRY BROCKEN
+
+
+
+
+    With a heart of furious fancies,
+      Whereof I am commander:
+        With a burning spear,
+        And a horse of air,
+      To the wilderness I wander;
+
+    With a Knight of ghosts and shadows,
+      I summoned am to Tourney:
+        Ten leagues beyond
+        The wide world's end;
+      Methinks it is no journey.
+
+    --ANON. (_Tom o' Bedlam_).
+
+
+
+
+HENRY BROCKEN
+
+His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable
+Regions of Romance
+
+by
+
+WALTER J. DE LA MARE
+
+("WALTER RAMAL")
+
+London
+John Murray, Albemarle Street, W.
+
+1904
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. WHITHER?
+
+    Come hither, come hither, come hither!
+
+    --SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+II. LUCY GRAY
+
+    Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
+      And, when I crossed the wild,
+    I chanced to see at break of day
+      The solitary child.
+
+    --WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+III. JANE EYRE
+
+    I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams ... where
+    amidst unusual scenes ... I still again and again met Mr.
+    Rochester;... and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his
+    voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him,
+    being loved by him--the hope of passing a lifetime at his side,
+    would be renewed, with all its first force and fire.
+
+    --CHARLOTTE BRONTË (_Jane Eyre_, Ch. xxxii.).
+
+
+IV. JULIA, ELECTRA, DIANEME
+
+    Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
+      Old Time is still a-flying:
+    And this same flower that smiles to-day
+      To-morrow will be dying.
+
+    The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
+      The higher he's a-getting,
+    The sooner will his race be run,
+      And nearer he's to setting.
+
+    That age is best which is the first,
+      When youth and blood are warmer;
+    But being spent, the worse, and worst
+      Times still succeed the former.
+
+    Then be not coy, but use your time;
+      And while ye may, go marry:
+    For having lost but once your prime,
+      You may for ever tarry.
+
+    ANTHEA--
+
+    Now is the time when all the lights wax dim,
+    And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
+    Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me
+    Under the holy-oak or gospel tree;...
+    Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
+    In which thy sacred relics shall have room:
+    For my embalming, sweetest, there will be
+    No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.
+
+    --HERRICK (_Hesperides_).
+
+
+V. NICK BOTTOM 43
+
+    BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out
+    moonshine, find out moonshine.
+
+    --_A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act III., Sc. i.
+
+
+VI. SLEEPING BEAUTY
+
+
+VII. & VIII. LEMUEL GULLIVER
+
+    I must freely confess that since my last return some corruptions
+    of my Yahoo nature have revived in me, by conversing with a few of
+    your species, and particularly those of my own family, by an
+    unavoidable necessity; else I should never have attempted so
+    absurd a project as that of reforming the Yahoo race in this
+    kingdom: but I have done with all such visionary schemes for
+    ever.--_Gulliver's Letter to his Cousin._
+
+    The first money I laid out was to buy two young stone horses,
+    which I kept in a good stable, and next to them the groom is my
+    greatest favourite; for I feel my spirits revived by the smell he
+    contracts in the stable.
+
+    --SWIFT (_A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms_, Ch. xi.).
+
+
+IX. & X. MISTRUST, OBSTINATE, LIAR, ETC.
+
+    And as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to
+    contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I
+    do?"...
+
+    The neighbours also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some
+    mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return.
+
+ATHEIST--
+
+    Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming softly and
+    alone, all along the highway, to meet them.
+
+    --BUNYAN (_The Pilgrim's Progress_).
+
+
+XI. LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
+
+    "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
+      Alone and palely loitering?
+    The sedge has withered from the lake,
+        And no birds sing.
+
+    "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
+      So haggard and so woe-begone?
+    The squirrel's granary is full,
+        And the harvest's done."
+
+    --KEATS.
+
+
+XII. SLEEP AND DEATH
+
+    Death will come when thou art dead,
+        Soon, too soon--
+    Sleep will come when thou art fled;
+      Of neither would I ask the boon
+    I ask of thee, beloved Night--
+    Swift be thine approaching flight,
+        Come soon, soon!
+
+    --SHELLEY.
+
+
+XIII. & XIV. A DOCTOR OF PHYSIC
+
+    Well, well, well,--
+    ... God, God forgive us all!
+
+    --_Macbeth_, Act V., Sc. i.
+
+
+XV. ANNABEL LEE
+
+    I was a child, and she was a child
+      In this kingdom by the sea;
+    And we loved with a love that was more than love--
+      I and my Annabel Lee--
+    With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
+      Coveted her and me.
+
+    --EDGAR ALLAN POE.
+
+
+XVI. CRISEYDE
+
+    ... Love hadde his dwellinge
+    With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yën.
+
+    Book I., 304-5.
+
+    Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth,
+    Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;
+    Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!
+
+    Book III., 1110-2.
+
+    And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!
+
+    Book V., 1421.
+
+    --CHAUCER (_Troilus and Criseyde_).
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAVELLER
+TO
+THE READER
+
+
+
+The traveller who presents himself in this little book feels how
+tedious a person he may prove to be. Most travellers, that he ever
+heard of, were the happy possessors of audacity and rigour, a zeal for
+facts, a zeal for Science, a vivid faith in powder and gold. Who,
+then, will bear for a moment with an ignorant, pacific adventurer,
+without even a gun?
+
+He may, however, seem even more than bold in one thing, and that is in
+describing regions where the wise and the imaginative and the immortal
+have been before him. For that he never can be contrite enough. And
+yet, in spite of the renown of these regions, he can present neither
+map nor chart of them, latitude nor longitude: can affirm only that
+their frontier stretches just this side of Dream; that they border
+Impossibility; lie parallel with Peace.
+
+But since it is his, and only his, journey and experiences, his wonder
+and delight in these lands that he tells of--a mere microcosm, as it
+were--he entreats forgiveness of all who love them and their people as
+much as he loves them--scarce "on this side idolatry."
+
+H.B.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+    _Oh, what land is the Land of Dream?_
+
+    --WILLIAM BLAKE.
+
+
+I lived, then, in the great world once, in an old, roomy house beside
+a little wood of larches, with an aunt of the name of Sophia. My
+father and mother died a few days before my fourth birthday, so that I
+can conjure up only fleeting glimpses of their faces by which to
+remember what love was then lost to me. Both were youthful at death,
+but my Aunt Sophia was ever elderly. She was keen, and just, seldom
+less than kind; but a child was to her something of a little animal,
+and it was nothing more. In consequence, well fed, warmly clad, and in
+freedom, I grew up almost in solitude between my angels, hearkening
+with how simple a curiosity to that everlasting warfare of persuasion
+and compulsion, terror and delight.
+
+Which of them it was that guided me, before even I could read, to the
+little room dark with holly trees that had been of old my uncle's
+library, I know not. Perhaps at the instant it chanced there had
+fallen a breathless truce between them, and I being solitary, my own
+instinct took me. But having once found that pictured haven, I had
+found somewhat of content.
+
+I think half my youthful days passed in that low, book-walled chamber.
+The candles I burned through those long years of evening would deck
+Alps' hugest fir; the dust I disturbed would very easily fill again
+the measure that some day shall contain my own; and the small studious
+thumbmarks that paced, as if my footprints, leaf by leaf of that long
+journey, might be the history of life's experience in little,--from
+clearer, to clear, to faint--how very faint at last!
+
+I do not remember ever to have been discovered in this retreat. I was
+(by nature) prompt at meals, and wary to be in bed at my hour, however
+transitory its occupation might be. Indeed, I very well recollect
+dawn painting the page my eyes dwelt on, surprising me with its
+mystery and stealth in a house as silent as the grave.
+
+Thus entertained then by insubstantial society I grew up, and began to
+be old, before I had yet learned age is disastrous. And it was there,
+in that cold, bright chamber, one snowy twilight, first suddenly awoke
+in me an imperative desire for distant lands.
+
+Even while little else than a child I had begun to cast my mind to
+travel. I doubt if ever Columbus suffered such vexation from an itch
+to be gone.
+
+But whither?
+
+Now, it seemed clear to me after long brooding and musing that however
+beautiful were these regions of which I never wearied to read, and
+however wild and faithful and strange and lovely the people of the
+books, somewhere the former must remain yet, somewhere, in immortality
+serene, dwell they whom so many had spent life in dreaming of, and
+writing about.
+
+In fact, take it for all in all, what could these authors have been
+at, if they laboured from dawn to midnight, from laborious midnight to
+dawn, merely to tell of what never was, and never by any chance could
+be? It was heaven-clear to me, solitary and a dreamer; let me but gain
+the key, I would soon unlock that Eden garden-door. Somewhere yet, I
+was sure, Imogen's mountains lift their chill summits into heaven;
+over haunted sea-sands Ariel flits; at his webbed casement next the
+stars Faust covets youth, till the last trump shall ring him out of
+dream.
+
+It was on a blue March morning, with all the trees of my aunt's woods
+in a pale-green tumult of wind, that, quite unwittingly, I set out on
+a journey that has not yet come to an end.
+
+There was a hint in the air at my waking, I fancied, not quite of mere
+earth, the perfume of the banners of Flora, of the mould where in
+melting snow the crocus blows. I looked from my window, and the
+western clouds drew gravely and loftily in the illimitable air towards
+the whistling house. Strange trumpets pealed in the wind. Even my
+poor, aged Aunt Sophia had changed with the universal change; her
+great, solitary face reminded me of some long-forgotten April.
+
+And a little before eleven I saddled my uncle's old mare Rosinante
+(poor female jade to bear a name so glorious!), and rode out (as for
+how many fruitless seasons I had ridden out!), down the stony,
+nettle-narrowed path that led for a secret mile or more, beneath
+lindens, towards the hills.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+    _Still thou art blest compared wi' me!_
+
+    --ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+It is to be wondered at that in so bleak a wind I could possibly fall
+into reverie. But the habit was rooted deep in me; Rosinante was
+prosaic and trustworthy; the country for miles around familiar to me
+as the palm of my hand. Yet so deeply was I involved, and so steadily
+had we journeyed on, that when at last I lifted my eyes with a great
+sigh that was almost a sob, I found myself in a place utterly unknown
+to me.
+
+But more inexplicable yet, not only was the place strange, but, by
+some incredible wizardry, Rosinante seemed to have carried me out of a
+March morning, blue and tumultuous and bleak, into the grey, sweet
+mist of a midsummer dawn.
+
+I found that we were ambling languidly on across a green and level
+moor. Far away, whether of clouds or hills I could not yet tell, rose
+cold towers and pinnacles into the last darkness of night. Above us in
+the twilight invisible larks climbed among the daybeams, singing as
+they flew. A thick dew lay in beads on stick and stalk. We were alone
+with the fresh wind of morning and the clear pillars of the East.
+
+On I went, heedless, curious, marvelling; my only desire to press
+forward to the goal whereto destiny was directing me. I suppose after
+this we had journeyed about an hour, and the risen sun was on the
+extreme verge of the gilded horizon, when I espied betwixt me and the
+deep woods that lay in the distance a little child walking.
+
+She, at any rate, was not a stranger to this moorland. Indeed,
+something in her carriage, in the grey cloak she wore, in her light,
+insistent step, in the old lantern she carried, in the shrill little
+song she or the wind seemed singing, for a moment half impelled me to
+turn aside. Even Rosinante pricked forward her ears, and stooped her
+gentle face to view more closely this light traveller. And she pawed
+the ground with her great shoe, and gnawed her bit when I drew rein
+and leaned forward in the saddle to speak to the child.
+
+"Is there any path here, little girl, that I may follow?" I said.
+
+"No path at all," she answered.
+
+"But how then do strangers find their way across the moor?" I said.
+
+She debated with herself a moment. "Some by the stars, and some by the
+moon," she answered.
+
+"By the moon!" I cried. "But at day, what then?"
+
+"Oh, then, sir," she said, "they can see."
+
+I could not help laughing at her demure little answers. "Why!" I
+exclaimed, "what a worldly little woman! And what is your name?"
+
+"They call me Lucy Gray," she said, looking up into my face. I think
+my heart almost ceased to beat.
+
+"Lucy Gray!" I repeated.
+
+"Yes," she said most seriously, as if to herself, "in all this snow."
+
+"'Snow,'" I said--"this is dewdrops shining, not snow."
+
+She looked at me without flinching. "How else can mother see how I am
+lost?" she said.
+
+"Why!" said I, "how else?" not knowing how to reach her bright belief.
+"And what are those thick woods called over there?"
+
+She shook her head. "There is no name," she said.
+
+"But you have a name--Lucy Gray; and you started out--do you
+remember?--one winter's day at dusk, and wandered on and on, on and
+on, the snow falling in the dark, till--Do you remember?"
+
+She stood quite still, her small, serious face full to the east,
+striving with far-off dreams. And a merry little smile passed over her
+lips. "That will be a long time since," she said, "and I must be off
+home." And as if it had been but an apparition of my eyes that had
+beset and deluded me, she was gone; and I found myself sitting astride
+in the full brightness of the sun's first beams, alone.
+
+What omen was this, then, that I should meet first a phantom on my
+journey? One thing only was clear: Rosinante could trust to her five
+wits better than I to mine. So leaving her to take what way she
+pleased, I rode on, till at length we approached the woods I had
+descried. Presently we were jogging gently down into a deep and misty
+valley flanked by bracken and pines, from which issued into the crisp
+air of morning a most delicious aromatic smell, that seemed at least
+to prove this valley not far remote from Araby.
+
+I do not think I was disturbed, though I confess to having been a
+little amazed to see how profound this valley was into which we were
+descending, yet how swiftly climbed the sun, as if to pace with us so
+that we should not be in shadow, howsoever fast we journeyed. I was
+astonished to see flowers of other seasons than summer by the wayside,
+and to hear in June, for no other month could bear such green
+abundance, the thrush sing with a February voice. Here too, almost at
+my right hand, perched a score or more of robins, bright-dyed,
+warbling elvishly in chorus as if the may-boughs whereon they sat were
+white with hoarfrost and not buds. Birds also unknown to me in voice
+and feather I saw, and little creatures in fur, timid yet not wild;
+fruits, even, dangled from the trees, as if, like the bramble, blossom
+and seed could live here together and prosper.
+
+Yet why should I be distracted by these things, thought I. I
+remembered Maundeville and Hithlodaye, Sindbad and Gulliver, and many
+another citizen of Thule, and was reassured. A man must either believe
+what he sees, or see what he believes; I know no other course. Why,
+too, should I mistrust the bounty of the present merely for the
+scarcity of the past? Not I!
+
+I rode on, and it seemed had advanced but a few miles before the sun
+stood overhead, and it was noon. We were growing weary, I think, of
+sheer delight: Rosinante, with her mild face beneath its dark forelock
+gazing this side, that side, at the uncustomary landscape; and I ever
+peering forward beneath my hat in eagerness to descry some living
+creature a little bigger than these conies and squirrels, to prove me
+yet in lands inhabited. But the sun was wheeling headlong, and the
+stillness of late afternoon on the woods, when, dusty and parched and
+heavy, we came to a break in the thick foliage, and presently to a
+green gate embowered in box.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+    _Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee suffice
+    To make dreams truth, and fables histories._
+
+    --JOHN DONNE.
+
+
+I dismounted and, with the nose of my beast in my bosom, stood awhile
+gazing, in the half-dream weariness brings, across the valley at the
+dense forests that covered the hills. And while thus standing,
+doubtful whether to knock at the little gate or to ride on, it began
+to open, and a great particoloured dog looked out on us. There was
+certainly something unusual in the aspect of this animal, for though
+he lifted on us grave and sagacious eyes, he scarcely seemed to see
+us, manifested neither pleasure nor disapproval, neither wagged his
+tail to give us welcome nor yawned to display his armament. He seemed
+a kind of dream-dog, a dog one sees without zeal, and sees again
+partly with the eye, but most in recollection.
+
+Thus however we stood, stranger, horse, and dog, till a morose voice
+called somewhere from beyond, "Pilot, sir, come here, Pilot." Semi-dog
+or no, he knew his master. Whereupon, tying up my dejected Rosinante
+to a ring in the gateway, I followed boldly after "Pilot" into that
+sequestered garden.
+
+Meanwhile, however, he had disappeared--down a thick green alley to
+the left, I supposed. So I went forward by a clearer path, and when I
+had advanced a few paces, met face to face a lady whose dark eyes
+seemed strangely familiar to me.
+
+She was evidently a little disquieted at meeting a stranger so
+unceremoniously, but stood her ground like a small, black, fearless
+note of interrogation.
+
+I explained at once, therefore, as best I could, how I came to be
+there: described my journey, my bewilderment, and how that I knew not
+into what country nor company fate had beguiled me, except that the
+one was beautiful, and the other in some delightful way familiar, and
+I begged her to tell me where I really was, and how far from home,
+and of whom I was now beseeching forgiveness.
+
+Her thoughts followed my every word, passing upon her face like
+shadows on the sea. I have never seen a listener so completely still
+and so completely engrossed in listening. And when I had finished, she
+looked aside with a transient, half-sly smile, and glanced at me again
+covertly, so that I could not see herself for seeing her eyes; and she
+laughed lightly.
+
+"It is indeed a strange journey," she replied. "But I fear I cannot in
+the least direct you. I have never ventured my own self beyond the
+woods, lest--I should penetrate too far. But you are tired and hungry.
+Will you please walk on a few steps till you come to a stone seat? My
+name is Rochester--Jane Rochester"--she glanced up between the hollies
+with a sigh that was all but laughter--"Jane Eyre, you know."
+
+I went on as she had bidden, and seated myself before an old, white,
+many-windowed house, squatting, like an owl at noon, beneath its green
+covert. In a few minutes the great dog with dripping jowl passed
+almost like reality, and after him his mistress, and on her arm her
+master, Mr. Rochester.
+
+There seemed a night of darkness in that scarred face, and stars
+unearthly bright. He peered dimly at me, leaning heavily on Jane's
+arm, his left hand plunged into the bosom of his coat. And when he was
+come near, he lifted his hat to me with a kind of Spanish gravity.
+
+"Is this the gentleman, Jane?" he enquired.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He's young!" he muttered.
+
+"For otherwise he would not be here," she replied.
+
+"Was the gate bolted, then?" he asked.
+
+"Mr. Rochester desires to know if you had the audacity, sir, to scale
+his garden wall," Jane said, turning sharply on me. "Shall I count the
+strawberries, sir?" she added over her shoulder."
+
+"Jane, Jane!" he exclaimed testily. "I have no wish to be uncivil,
+sir. We are not of the world--a mere dark satellite. I am dim; and
+suspicious of strangers, as this one treacherous eye should manifest.
+I'll but ask your name, sir,--there are yet a few names left, once
+pleasing to my ear."
+
+"My name is Brocken, sir--Henry Brocken," I answered.
+
+"And--did you walk? Pah! there's the mystery! God knows how else you
+could have come, unless you are a modern Ganymede. Where then's your
+aquiline steed, sir? We have no neighbours here--none to stare, and
+pry, and prate, and slander."
+
+I informed him that I was as ignorant as he what power had spirited me
+to his house, but that so far as obvious means went, my old horse was
+probably by this time fast asleep beside the green gate at which I had
+entered. Jane stood on tip-toe and whispered in his ear, and, nodding
+imperiously at him, withdrew into the house.
+
+Complete silence fell between us after her departure. The woods stood
+dark and motionless in the yellow evening light. There was no sound of
+wind or water, no sound of voices or footsteps; only far away the
+clear, scarce-audible warbling of a sleepy bird.
+
+"Well, sir," Mr. Rochester said suddenly, "I am bidden invite you to
+pass the night here. There are stranger inhabitants than Mr. and Mrs.
+Rochester in these regions you have by some means strayed into--wilder
+denizens, by much; for youth's seraphic finding. Not for mine, sir, I
+vow. Depart again in the morning, if you will: we shall neither of us
+be displeased by then to say farewell, I dare say. I do not seek
+company. My obscure shell is enough." I rose. "Sit down--sit down
+again, my dear sir; there's no mischief in the truth between two men
+of any world, I suppose, assuredly not of this. My wife will see to
+your comfort. There! hushie now, here he floats; sit still, sit
+still--I hear his wings. It is my 'Four Evangels,' sir!"
+
+It was a sleek blackbird that had alighted and now set to singing on
+the topmost twig of a lofty pear-tree near by; and with his first note
+Jane reappeared. And while we listened, unstirring, to that rich,
+undaunted voice, I had good opportunity to observe her, and not, I
+think, without her knowledge, not even without her approval.
+
+This, then, was the face that had returned wrath for wrath, remorse
+for remorse, passion for passion to that dark egotist Jane in the
+looking-glass. Yet who, thought I, could be else than beautiful with
+eyes that seemed to hide in fleeting cloud a flame as pure as amber?
+The arch simplicity of her gown, her small, narrow hands, the
+exquisite cleverness of mouth and chin, the lovely courage and
+sincerity of that yet-childish brow--it seemed even Mr. Rochester's
+"Four Evangels" out of his urgent rhetoric was summoning with
+reiterated persuasions, "Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, Ja ... ne!"
+
+Light faded from the woods; a faint wind blew cold upon our faces.
+Jane took Mr. Rochester's hand and looked into his face.
+
+She turned to me. "Will you come in, Mr. Brocken? I have seen that
+your horse is made quite easy. He was fast asleep, poor fellow, as
+you surmised; and, I think, dreaming; for when I proffered him a lump
+of sugar, he thrust his nose into my face and breathed as if I were a
+peck of corn. The candles are lit, sir; supper is ready."
+
+We went in slowly, and Jane bolted the door. "But who it is that can
+be bolted out," she said, "I know not; though there's much to bolt in.
+I have stood here, Mr. Brocken, on darker nights as still as this, and
+have heard what seemed to be the sea breaking, far away, leagues upon
+leagues beyond the forests--the gush forward, the protracted, heavy
+retreat,--listened till I could have wept to think that it was only my
+own poor furious heart beating. You may imagine, then, I push the
+bolts home."
+
+"But why, Jane--why?" cried Mr. Rochester incredulously. "Violent
+fancies, child!"
+
+"Why, sir, it was, I say, not the sea I heard, but a trickling tide
+one icy tap might stay, if it found but entry there."
+
+"You talk wildly, Jane--wildly, wildly; the air's afloat with
+listeners; so it seems, so it seems. Had I but one clear lamp in this
+dark face!"
+
+We sat down in the candle-lit twilight to supper. It was to me like
+the supper of a child, taken at peace in the clear beams, ere he
+descend into the shadow of sleep.
+
+They sat, try as I would not to observe them, hand touching hand
+throughout the meal. But to me it was as if one might sit to eat
+before a great mountain ruffled with pines, and perpetually clamorous
+with torrents. All that Mr. Rochester said, every gesture, these were
+but the ghosts of words and movements. Behind them, gloomy,
+imperturbable, withdrawn, slumbered a strange, smouldering power. I
+began to see how very hotly Jane must love him, she who loved above
+all things storm, the winds of the equinox, the illimitable night-sky.
+
+She begged him to take a little wine with me, and filled his glass
+till it burned like a ruby between their hands.
+
+"It paints both our hands!" she cried glancing up at him.
+
+"Ay, Janet," he answered; "but where is yours?"
+
+"And what goal will you make for when you leave us," she enquired of
+me. "_Is_ there anywhere else?" she added, lifting her slim eyebrows.
+
+"I shall put trust in Chance," I replied, "which at least is steadfast
+in change. So long as it does not guide me back, I care not how far
+forward I go."
+
+"You are right," she answered; "that is a puissant battlecry, here and
+hereafter."
+
+Mr. Rochester rose hastily from his chair. "The candles irk me, Jane.
+I would like to be alone. Excuse me, sir." He left the room.
+
+Jane lifted a dark curtain and beckoned me to bring the lights. She
+sat down before a little piano and desired me to sit beside her. And
+while she played, I know not what, but only it seemed old,
+well-remembered airs her mood suggested, she asked me many questions.
+
+"And am I indeed only like that poor mad thing you thought Jane Eyre?"
+she said, "or did you read between?"
+
+I answered that it was not her words, not even her thoughts, not even
+her poetry that was to me Jane Eyre.
+
+"What then is left of me?" she enquired, stooping her eyes over the
+keys and smiling darkly. "Am I indeed so evanescent, a wintry wraith?"
+
+"Well," I said, "Jane Eyre is left."
+
+She pressed her lips together. "I see," she said brightly. "But then,
+was I not detestable too? so stubborn, so wilful, so demented,
+so--vain?"
+
+"You were vain," I answered, "because--"
+
+"Well?" she said, and the melody died out, and the lower voices of her
+music complained softly on.
+
+"For a barrier," I answered.
+
+"A barrier?" she cried.
+
+"Why, yes," I said, "a barrier against cant, and flummery, and
+coldness, and pride, and against--why, against your own vanity too."
+
+"That's really very clever--penetrating," she said; "and I really
+desired to know, not because I did not know already, but to know I
+knew all. You are a perspicacious observer, Mr. Brocken; and to be
+that is to be alive in a world of the moribund. But then too how high
+one must soar at times; for one must ever condescend in order to
+observe faithfully. At any rate, to observe all one must range at an
+altitude above all."
+
+"And so," I said, "you have taken your praise from me--"
+
+"But you are a man, and I a woman: we look with differing eyes, each
+sex to the other, and perceive by contrast. Else--why, how else could
+you forgive my presumption? He sees me as an eagle sees the creeping
+tortoise. I see him as the moon the sun, never weary of gazing. I
+borrow his radiance to observe him by. But I weary you with my
+garrulous tongue.... Have you no plan at all in your journey? 'Tis not
+the dangers, but to me the endless restlessness of such a
+venture--that 'Oh, where shall wisdom be found?'... Will you not
+pause?--stay with us a few days to consider again this rash journey?
+To each his world: it is surely perilous to transgress its fixed
+boundaries."
+
+"Who knows?" I cried, rather arrogantly perhaps. "The sorcery that
+lured me hither may carry me as lightly back. But I have tasted honey
+and covet the hive."
+
+She glanced sidelong at me with that stealthy gravity that lay under
+all her lightness.
+
+"That delicious Rosinante!" she exclaimed softly.... "And I really
+believe too _I_ must be the honey--or is it Mr. Rochester? Ah! Mr.
+Brocken, they call it wasp-honey when it is so bitter that it blisters
+the lips." She talked on gaily, as if she had forgotten I was but a
+stranger until now. Yet none the less she perceived presently my eyes
+ever and again fixed upon the little brooch of faintest gold hair at
+her throat, and flinched and paled, playing on in silence.
+
+"Take the whole past," she continued abruptly, "spread it out before
+you, with all its just defeats, all its broken faith, and overweening
+hopes, its beauty, and fear, and love, and its loss--its loss; then
+turn and say: this, this only, this duller heart, these duller eyes,
+this contumacious spirit is all that is left--myself. Oh! who could
+wish to one so dear a destiny so dark?" She rose hastily from the
+piano. "Did I hear Mr. Rochester's step by the window?" she said.
+
+I crossed the room and looked out into the night. The brightening moon
+hung golden in the dark clearness of the sky. Mr. Rochester stood
+motionless, Napoleon-wise, beneath the black, unstirring foliage. And
+before I could turn, Jane had begun to sing:--
+
+      You take my heart with tears;
+      I battle uselessly;
+    Reft of all hopes and doubts and fears,
+        Lie quietly.
+
+      You veil my heart with cloud;
+      Since faith is dim and blind,
+    I can but grope perplex'd and bow'd,
+        Seek till I find.
+
+      Yet bonds are life to me;
+      How else could I perceive
+    The love in each wild artery
+        That bids me live?
+
+Jane's was not a rich voice, nor very sweet, and yet I fancied no
+other voice than this could plead and argue quite so clearly and with
+such nimble insistency--neither of bird, nor child, nor brook;
+because, I suppose, it was the voice of Jane Eyre, and all that was
+Jane's seemed Jane's only.
+
+The music ceased, the accompaniment died away; but Mr. Rochester stood
+immobile yet--a little darker night in that much deeper. When I
+turned, Jane was gone from the room. I sat down, my face towards the
+still candles, as one who is awake, yet dreams on. The faint scent of
+the earth through the open window; the heavy, sombre furniture; the
+daintiness and the alertness in the many flowers and few womanly
+gew-gaws: these too I shall remember in a tranquillity that cannot
+change.
+
+A sudden, trembling glimmer at the window lit the garden and,
+instantaneously, the distant hills; lit also the figures of Jane and
+Mr. Rochester beneath the trees. They entered the house, and once more
+Jane drew the bolts against that phantom fear. A tinge of scarlet
+stood in her cheeks, an added lustre in her eyes. They were strange
+lovers, these two--like frost upon a cypress tree; yet summer lay all
+around us.
+
+I bade them good night and ascended to the little room prepared for
+me. There was a great pincushion on the sprigged and portly toilet
+table, and I laboured till the constellations had changed beyond my
+window, in printing from a box of tiny pins upon that lavendered
+mound, "Ave, Ave, atque Vale!"
+
+Far in the night a dreadful sound woke me. I rose and looked out of
+the window, and heard again, deep and reverberating, Pilot baying I
+know not what light minions of the moon. The Great Bear wheeled
+faintly clear in the dark zenith, but the borders of the east were
+grey as glass; and far away a fierce hound was answering from his
+echo-place in the gloom, as if the dread dog of Acheron kept post upon
+the hills.
+
+A light tap woke me in the sunlight, and a lighter voice. Mr.
+Rochester took breakfast with us in a gloomy old dressing-room, moody
+and taciturn, unpacified by sleep. But Jane, whimsical and deft, had
+tied a yellow ribbon in the darkness of her hair.
+
+Rosinante awaited me at the little green gate, eyeing forlornly the
+steep valley at her feet. And I rode on. The gate was shut on me; and
+Mr. Rochester again, perhaps, at his black ease.
+
+I had jogged on, with that peculiar gravity age brings to equine
+hoofs, about a mile, when the buttress of a thick wall came into view
+abutting on the lane, and perched thereon what at first I deemed a
+coloured figment of the mist that festooned the branches and clung
+along the turf. But when I drew near I saw it was indeed a child, pink
+and gold and palest blue. And she raised changeling hands at me, and
+laughed and danced and chattered like the drops upon a waterfall; and
+clear as if a tiny bell had jingled I heard her cry.
+
+And my heart smote me heavily since I had of my own courtesy not
+remembered Adèle.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+    _Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, tu-witta-woo._
+
+    --THOMAS NASH.
+
+
+It was yet early, and refreshing in the chequered shade. We plodded
+earnestly after our gaunt shadow in the dust, and ever downward, till
+at last we drew so near to the opposite steep that I could well nigh
+count its pines.
+
+It was about the hour when birds seek shade and leave but few among
+their fellows to sing, that at a stone's throw from the foot of the
+hill I came to where a faint bridle-path diverged. And since it was
+smooth with moss, and Rosinante haply tired of pebbles; since any but
+the direct road seems ever the more delectable, I too turned aside,
+and broke into the woods through which this path meandered.
+
+Maybe it is because all woods are enchanted that the path seemed more
+than many miles long. Often too we loitered, or stood, head by head,
+to listen, or to watch what might be after all only wings, mere
+sunbeams. Shall I say, then, that it began to be thorny, and, where
+the thorns were, pale with roses, when at length the knitted boughs
+gradually drew asunder, and I looked down between twitching, hairy
+ears upon a glade so green and tranquil, I deemed it must be the
+Garden of the Hesperides?
+
+And because there ran a very welcome brook of water through this
+glade, I left Rosinante to follow whithersoever a sweet tooth might
+dictate, and climbed down into the weedy coolness at the waterbrink.
+
+I confess I laughed to see so puckered a face as mine in the clear
+blue of the flowing water. But I dipped my hands and my head into the
+cold shallows none the less pleasantly, and was casting about for a
+deeper pool where I might bathe unscorned of the noonday, when I heard
+a light laughter behind me, and, turning cautiously, perceived under
+the further shadow of the glade three ladies sitting.
+
+Not even vanity could persuade me that they were laughing at anything
+more grotesque than myself, so, putting a bold face on matters so
+humiliating, I sauntered as carelessly and loftily as I dared in their
+direction. My courage seemed to abash them a little; they gathered
+back their petticoats like birds about to fly. But at hint of a
+titter, they all three began gaily laughing again till their eyes
+sparkled brighter than ever, and their cheeks seemed shadows of the
+roses above their heads.
+
+"Ladies," I began gravely, "I have left my horse, that is very old and
+very thirsty, above in the wood. Is there any path I may discover by
+which she may reach the water without offence?"
+
+"Is she very old?" said one.
+
+"She is very old," I said.
+
+"But is she very thirsty?" said another.
+
+"She is perhaps very thirsty," I said.
+
+"Perhaps!" cried they all.
+
+"Because, ladies," I replied, "being by nature of a timid tongue, and
+compelled to say something, and having nothing apt to say, I
+remembered my old Rosinante above in the wood."
+
+They glanced each at each, and glanced again at me.
+
+"But there is no path down that is not steep," said the fairest of the
+three.
+
+"There never was a path, not even, we fear, for a traveller on foot,"
+continued the second.
+
+I waited in silence a moment. "Forgive me, then," I said; "I will
+offend no longer."
+
+But this seemed far from their design.
+
+"You see, being come," began the fairest again, "Julia thinks Fortune
+must have brought you. Are we not all between Fortune's finger and
+thumb?"
+
+"If pinching is to prove anything," said the other.
+
+"And Fortune is fickle, too," added Julia--"that's early wisdom; but
+not quite so fickle as you would wish to show her. Here we have sat in
+these mortal glades ever since our poor Herrick died. And here it
+seems we are like to sit till he rises again. It is all so--dubious.
+But since Electra has invited you to rest awhile, will you not really
+rest? There is shade as deep, and fruit to refresh you, in a little
+arbour yonder. Perhaps even Anthea will dip out of her weeping awhile
+if she hears that ... a poor old thirsty horse is tethered in the
+woods."
+
+They rose up together with a prolonged rustling as of a peacock
+displaying his plumes; and I found myself irretrievably their captive.
+
+Moreover, even if they were but sylphs and fantasies of the morning,
+they were fantasies lovely as even their master had portrayed; while
+the dells through which they led me were green and deep and white and
+golden with buds.
+
+It was now, I suppose, about the middle of the morning, yet though the
+sun was high, his heat was that of dawn. Dawn lingered in the shadows,
+as snow when winter is over and gone, and dwelt among the sunbeams.
+Dew lay heavy on the grass, as the dainty heels of my captresses
+testified, yet they trod lightly upon daisies wide-open to the blue
+sky, while daffadowndillies stooped in a silence broken only by their
+laughter.
+
+We came presently to a little stone summerhouse or arbour,
+enclustered with leaves and flowers of ivy and convolvulus, wherein
+two great dishes of cherries stood and bowls of honeycomb and
+sillabub.
+
+There we sat down; but they kept me close too in the midst of the
+arbour, where perhaps I was not so ill-content to be as I should like
+to profess. How then could I else than bob for cherries as often as I
+dared, and prove my wit to conceal my hunger?
+
+"And now, Sir Traveller," said she of the sparkling eyes, named
+Dianeme, "since we have got you safe, tell us of all we have never
+heard or seen!"
+
+"And oh! are we forgot?" cried Electra, laying a lip upon a cherry.
+
+"There's not a poet in his teens but warbles of you morn, noon, and
+night," I answered. "There's not a lover mad, young, true, and tender,
+but borrows your azure, and your rubies, and your roses, and your
+stars, to deck his sweetheart's name with."
+
+"Boys perhaps," cried Julia softly, "but _men_ soon forget."
+
+"Youth never," I replied.
+
+"Why 'Youth'?" said Dianeme. "Herrick was not always young."
+
+"Ay, but all men once were young, please God," I said, "and youth is
+the only 'once' that's worth remembrance. Youth with the heart of
+youth adores you, ladies; because, when dreams come thick upon them,
+they catch your flying laughter in the woods. When the sun is sunk,
+and the stars kindle in the sky, then your eyes haunt the twilight.
+You come in dreams, and mock the waking. You the mystery; you the
+bravery and danger; you the long-sought; you the never-won; memories,
+hopes, songs ere the earth is mute. You will always be loved, believe
+me, O bright ladies, till youth fades, turns, and loves no more." And
+I gazed amazed on cherries of such potency as these.
+
+"But once, sir," said Julia timidly, "we were not only loved but
+_told_ we were loved."
+
+"Where is the pleasure else?" cried Dianeme.
+
+"Besides," said Electra, "Anthea says if we might but find where Styx
+flows one draught--my mere palmful--would be sweeter than all the
+poetry ever writ, save some."
+
+"It is idle," cried Dianeme; "Herrick himself admired us most on
+paper."
+
+"And ink makes a cross even of a kiss, that is very well known," said
+Julia.
+
+"Ah!" said I, "all men have eyes; few see. Most men have tongues:
+there is but one Robin Herrick."
+
+"I will tell you a secret," said Dianeme.
+
+And as if a bird of the air had carried her voice, it seemed a hush
+fell on sky and greenery.
+
+"We are but fairy-money all," she said, "an envy to see. Take
+us!--'tis all dry leaves in the hand. Herrick stole the honey, and the
+bees he killed. Blow never so softly on the tinder, it flames--and
+dies."
+
+"I heard once," said Electra, with but a thought of pride, "that had I
+lived a little, little earlier, I might have been the Duchess of
+Malfi."
+
+"I too, Flatterer," cried Julia, "I too--Desdemona slain by a
+blackamoor. To some it is the cold hills and the valleys 'green and
+sad,' and the sea-birds' wailing," she continued in a low, strange
+voice, "and to some the glens of heather, and the mountain-brooks, and
+the rowans. But, come to an end, what are we all? This man's eyes will
+tell ye! I would give white and red, nectar and snow and roses, and
+all the similes that ever were for--"
+
+"For what?" said I.
+
+"I think, for Robin Herrick," she said.
+
+It was a lamentable confession, for that said, gravity fled away; and
+Electra fetched out a lute from a low cupboard in the arbour, and
+while she played Julia sang to a sober little melody I seemed to know
+of old:
+
+        Sighs have no skill
+        To wake from sleep
+    Love once too wild, too deep.
+
+        Gaze if thou will,
+        Thou canst not harm
+    Eyes shut to subtle charm.
+
+        Oh! 'tis my silence
+        Shows thee false,
+    Should I be silent else?
+
+        Haste thou then by!
+        Shine not thy face
+    On mine, and love's disgrace!
+
+Whereat Dianeme lifted on me so naïve an afflicted face I must needs
+beseech another song, despite my drowsy lids. Wherefore I heard, far
+away as it were, the plucking of the strings, and a voice betwixt
+dream and wake sing:
+
+        All sweet flowers
+          Wither ever,
+        Gathered fresh
+          Or gathered never;
+    But to live when love is gone!--
+    Grieve, grieve, lute, sadly on!
+
+        All I had--
+          'Twas all thou gav'st me;
+        That foregone,
+          Ah! what can save me?
+    If the exórcised spirit fly,
+    Nought is left to love me by.
+
+        Take thy stars,
+          My tears then leave me;
+        Thine my bliss,
+          As thine to grieve me;
+    Take....
+
+For then, so insidious was the music, and not quite of this earth the
+voice, my senses altogether forsook me, and I fell asleep.
+
+Would that I could remember much else! But I confess it is the heart
+remembers, not the poor, pestered brain that has so many thoughts and
+but one troubled thinker. Indeed, were I now to be asked--Were the
+fingers cold of these bright ladies? Were their eyes blue, or hazel,
+or brown? or, haply, were Dianeme's that incomparable, dark, sparkling
+grey? Wore Julia azure, and Electra white? And was that our poet wrote
+our poet's only, or truly theirs, and so even more lovely?--I fear I
+could not tell.
+
+I fell asleep; and when I awoke no lute was sounding. I was alone; and
+the arbour a little house of gloom on the borders of evening. I caught
+up yet one more handful of cherries, and stumbled out, heavy and dim,
+into a pale-green firmanent of buds and glow-worms, to seek the poor
+Rosinante I had so heedlessly deserted.
+
+But I was gone but a little way when I was brought suddenly to a
+standstill by another sound that in the hush of the garden, in the
+bright languor after sleep, went to my heart: it was as if a child
+were crying.
+
+I pushed through a thick and aromatic clump of myrtles, and peering
+between the narrow leaves, perceived the cold, bright face of a little
+marble god beneath willows; and, seated upon a starry bank near by,
+one whom by the serpentry of her hair and the shadow of her lips I
+knew to be Anthea.
+
+"Why are you weeping?" I said.
+
+"I was imitating a little brook," she said.
+
+"It is late; the bat is up; yet you are alone," I said.
+
+"Pan will protect me," she said.
+
+"And nought else?"
+
+She turned her face away. "None," she said. "I live among shadows.
+There was a world, I dreamed, where autumn follows summer, and after
+autumn, winter. Here it is always June, despite us both."
+
+"What, then, would you have?" I said.
+
+"Ask him," she replied.
+
+But the little god looking sidelong was mute in his grey regard.
+
+"Why do you not run away? What keeps you here?"
+
+"You ask many questions, stranger! Who can escape? To live is to
+remember. To die--oh, who would forget! Even had I been weeping, and
+not merely mocking time away, would my tears be of Lethe at my mouth's
+corners? No," said Anthea, "why feign and lie? All I am is but a
+memory lovely with regret."
+
+She rose, and the myrtles concealed her from me. And I, in the midst
+of the dusk where the tiny torches burned sadly--I turned to the
+sightless eyes of that smiling god.
+
+What he knew, being blind, yet smiling, I seemed to know then. But
+that also I have forgotten.
+
+I whistled softly and clearly into the air, and a querulous voice
+answered me from afar--the voice of a grasshopper--Rosinante's.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+    _How should I your true love know
+    From another one?_
+
+    --WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+But even then she was difficult finding, so cunningly had ivy and
+blackberry and bindweed woven snares for the trespasser's foot.
+
+But at last--not far from where we had parted--I found her, a pillar
+of smoke in the first shining of the moon. She turned large,
+smouldering eyes on me, her mane in elf locks, her flanks heaving and
+wet, her forelock frizzed like a colt's. Yet she showed only pleasure
+at seeing me, and so evident a desire to unburden the day's history,
+that I almost wished I might be Balaam awhile, and she--Dapple!
+
+It would be idle to attempt to ride through these thick, glimmering
+brakes. The darkness was astir. And as the moon above the valley
+brightened, casting pale beams upon the folded roses and drooping
+branches, if populous dream did not deceive me, a tiny multitude was
+afoot in the undergrowth--small horns winding, wee tapers burning.
+
+Presently as with Rosinante's nose at my shoulder we pushed slowly
+forward, a nightingale burst close against my ear into so passionate a
+descant I thought I should be gooseflesh to the end of my days.
+
+The heedless tumult of her song seemed to give courage to sounds and
+voices much fainter. Soon a lovelit rival in some distant thicket
+broke into song, and far and near their voices echoed above the elfin
+din of timbrel and fife and hunting-horn. I began to wish the moon
+away that dazzled my eyes, yet could not muffle my ears.
+
+In the heavy-laden boughs dim lanterns burned. There, indeed, when we
+dipped into the deeper umbrage of some loftier tree, I espied the
+pattering hosts--creatures my Dianeme might have threaded for a
+bangle, yet breeched and armed and fiercely martial.
+
+Down, too, in a watery dell of harts-tongue, around the root of a
+swelling fungus, a lovely company floated of an insubstantiality
+subtile as taper-smoke, and of a beauty as remote as the babes in
+children's eyes.
+
+We passed unheeded. Four bearded hoofs rose and fell upon the moss
+with all the circumspection snorting Rosinante could compass. But one
+might as well go snaring moonbeams as dream to crush such airy beings.
+Ever and again a gossamer company would soar like a spider on his
+magic thread, and float with a whisper of remotest music past my ear;
+or some bolder pigmy, out of the leaves we brushed in passing, skip
+suddenly across the rusty amphitheatre of my saddle into the further
+covert.
+
+So we wandered on, baffled and confused, through a hundred pathless
+glens and dells till already gold had begun to dim the swelling moon's
+bright silver, and by the freshness and added sweetness of the air it
+seemed dawn must be near, when, on a sudden, a harsh, preposterous
+voice broke on my ear, and such a see-saw peal of laughter as I have
+never tittered in sheer fellowship with before, or since. We stood
+listening, and the voice broke out again.
+
+"Tittany--nay, Tittany, you'll crack my sides with laughing. Have
+again at you! love your master and you'll wax nimble. Bottom will
+learn you all. Trust Time and Bottom; though in sooth your weeny
+Majesty is something less than natural. Drive thy straw deeper,
+Mounsieur Mustardseed! there squats a pestilent sweet notion in that
+chamber could spellican but set him capering. Prithee your mousemilk
+hand on this smooth brow, mistress! Your nectar throbbeth like a
+blacksmith's anvil. Master Moth, draw you these bristling lashes down,
+they mirk the stars and call yon nothing Quince to mind--a vain,
+official knave, in and out, to and fro, play or pleasure; and old Sam
+Snout, the wanton! Lad's days and all--'twas life, Tittany; and I was
+ever foremost. They'd bob and crook to me like spaniels at a trencher.
+Mine was the prettiest conceit, this way, that way, past all
+unravelling till envy stretched mine ears. Now I'm old dreams. Gone
+all men's joy, your worships, since Bully Bottom took to moonshine.
+Where floats your babe's-hand now, Dame Lovepip?"
+
+There he lolled, immortal Bottom, propped on a bed of asphodel and
+moly that seemed to curd the moonshine; and at his side, Titania slim
+and scarlet, and shimmering like a bride-cake. The sky was dark above
+the tapering trees, but here in the secret woods light seemed to cling
+in flake and scarf. And it so chanced as our two noses leaned forward
+into his retreat that Bottom's head lolled back upon its pillow, and
+his bright, simple eyes stared deep into our own.
+
+"Save me, ye shapes of nought," he bellowed, "no more, no more, for
+love's sake. I begin to see what men call red Beelzebub, and that's an
+end to all true fellowship. Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, Signior
+Cobweb, I beseech you--a little fiery devil with four eyes floats in
+my brain, and flame's a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! avaunt ye! Would now
+my true friend Bottom the weaver were at my side. His was a courage
+to make princes great. Prithee, Queen Tittany, no more such cozening
+possets!"
+
+I drew Rosinante back into the leaves.
+
+"Droop now thy honeyed lids, my dearest love!" I heard a clear voice
+answer. "There's nought can harm thee in these silvered woods: no bird
+that pipes but love incites his throat, and never a dewdrop wells but
+whispers peace!"
+
+"Ay, ay, 'tis very well, you have a gift, you have a gift, Tittany's
+for twisting words to sugarsticks. But la, there, what wots your
+trickling whey of that coal-piffling Prince of Flies! I'm Bottom the
+weaver, I am. He knows not his mother's ring-finger that knows not
+Nick Bottom. Back, back, ye jigging dreams! 'Tis Puckling nods. Ha'
+done, ha' done--there's no sweet sanity in an asshead more if I quaff
+their elvish ... Out now ... Ha' done, I say!"
+
+Then indeed he slumbered truly, this engarlanded weaver, his lids
+concealing all bright speculation, his jowl of vanity (foe of the
+Philistine) at peace: and I might gaze unperceived. The moon filled
+his mossy cubicle with her untrembling beams, streamed upon blossoms
+sweet and heavy as Absalom's hair, while tiny plumes wafted into the
+night the scent of thyme and meadow-sweet.
+
+I know not how long they would have kept me prisoner with their
+illusive music. I dared not move, scarce wink; for much as immortality
+may mollify hairiness, I had no wish to live too frank.
+
+How, also, would this weaver who slumbered so cacophonously welcome a
+rival to his realms. I say I sat still, like Echo in the woods when
+none is calling; like too, I grant, one who ached not a little after
+jolts and jars and the phantasmal mists of this engendering air. But
+none stirred, nor went, nor came. So resting my hands cautiously on a
+little witch's guild of toadstools that squatted cold in shade, I
+lifted myself softly and stood alert.
+
+And in a while out of that numerous company stepped one whom by his
+primrose face and mien I took to be Mounsieur Mustardseed, and I
+followed after him.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+    _Care-charming Sleep ...
+    ... sweetly thyself dispose
+    On this afflicted prince!_
+
+    --JOHN FLETCHER.
+
+
+Away with a blink of his queer green eye over his shoulder he
+sauntered by a devious path out of the dell. Forgetful of thorn and
+brier, trickery and wantonness, we clambered down after him, out of
+the moonlight, into a dark, clear alley, soundless and solitary amid
+these enchanted woods.
+
+As I have said already, another air than that of night was abroad in
+the green-grey shadows of the woods. Yet between the lofty and
+heavy-hooded pines scarce a beam of dawn pierced downward.
+
+Wider swept the avenue, but ever dusky and utterly silent. Deeper moss
+couched here; unfallen moondrops glistened; mistletoe palely sprouted
+from the gnarled boughs. Nor could I discern, though I searched close
+enough, elder or ash tree or bitter rue. We journeyed softly on till I
+lost all count of time, lost, too, all guidance; for as a flower falls
+had vanished Mustardseed.
+
+Far away and ever increasing in volume I heard the trembling crash of
+some great water falling. What narrow isles of sky were visible
+between the branches lay sunless and still. Yet already, on a mantled
+pool we journeyed softly by, the waterlily was unfolding, the swan
+afloat in beauty.
+
+In a dim, still light we at last slowly descended out of the darker
+glade into a garden of grey terraces and flowerless walks. Even
+Rosinante seemed perturbed by the stillness and solitude of this wild
+garden. She trod with cautious foot and peering eye the green,
+rainworn paths, that led us down presently to where beneath the vault
+of its trees a river flowed.
+
+Surely I could not be mistaken that here a voice was singing as if out
+of the black water-deeps, so clear and hollow were the notes. I burst
+through the knotted stalks of the ivy, and stooping like some poor
+travesty of Narcissus, with shaded face pierced down deep--deep into
+eyes not my own, but violet and unendurable and strange--eyes of the
+living water-sprite drawing my wits from me, stilling my heart, till I
+was very near plunging into that crystal oblivion, to be fishes
+evermore.
+
+But my fingers still grasped my friend's kind elf-locks, and her
+goose-nose brooded beside mine upon that water of undivulged delight.
+Out of the restless silence of the stream floated this long-drawn
+singing:
+
+    Pilgrim forget; in this dark tide
+    Sinks the salt tear to peace at last;
+    Here undeluding dreams abide,
+        All sorrow past.
+
+    Nods the wild ivy on her stem;
+    The voiceless bird broods on the bough;
+    The silence and the song of them
+        Untroubled now.
+
+    Free that poor captive's flutterings,
+    That struggles in thy tired eyes,
+    Solace its discontented wings,
+        Quiet its cries!
+
+    Knells now the dewdrop to its fall,
+    The sad wind sleeps no more to rove;
+    Rest, for my arms ambrosial
+        Ache for thy love!
+
+I cannot think how one so meekened with hunger as I, resisted that
+water-troubled hair, eyes that yet haunt me, that heart-alluring
+voice.
+
+"No, no," I said faintly, and the words of Anthea came unbidden to
+mind, "to sleep--oh! who would forget? You plead merely with some old
+dream of me--not _all_ me, you know. Gold is but witchcraft. And as
+for sorrow--spread me a magical table in this nettle-garden, I'll
+leave all melancholy!"
+
+I must indeed have been exhausted to chop logic with a water-witch. As
+well argue with minnows, entreat the rustling of ivy-leaves. It was
+Rosinante, wearying, I suppose, of the reflection of her own mild
+countenance, that drew me back from dream and disaster. She turned
+with arched neck seeking a more wholesome pasture than these deep
+mosses.
+
+Leaving her then to her own devices, and yet hearkening after the
+voice of the charmer, I came out again into the garden, and perceived
+before me a dark palace with one lofty tower.
+
+It seemed strange I had not seen the tower at my first coming into
+this wilderness. It stood with clustered summit and stooping
+gargoyles, appealing as it were to fear, in utter silence.
+
+Though I knew it must be day, there was scarcely more than a green
+twilight around me, ever deepening, until at last I could but dimly
+discern the upper windows of the palace, and all sound waned but the
+roar of distant falling water.
+
+Then it was I found that I was not alone in the garden. Two little
+leaden children stood in an attitude of listening on either side of
+the carved porch of the palace, and between them a figure that seemed
+to be watching me intently.
+
+I looked and looked again--saw the green-grey folds, the tawny locks,
+the mistletoe, the unearthly eyes of this unstirring figure, yet, when
+I advanced but one strenuous pace, saw nought--only the little leaden
+boys and the porch between them.
+
+These childish listeners, the straggling briers, the impenetrable
+thickets, the emerald gloaming, the marble stillness of the lofty
+lichenous tower: I took courage. Could such things be in else than
+Elfland? And she who out of beauty and being vanishes and eludes, what
+else could she be than one of Elfland's denizens from whom a light and
+credulous heart need fear nothing.
+
+I trod like a shadow where the phantom had stood and opened the unused
+door. I was about to pass into the deeper gloom of the house when a
+hound appeared and stood regarding me with shining eyes in the faint
+gloaming. He was presently joined by one as light-footed, but
+milk-white and slimmer, and both turned their heads as if in question
+of their master, who had followed close behind them.
+
+This personage, because of the gloom, or the better to observe the
+intruder on his solitude, carried a lantern whose beams were reflected
+upon himself, attired as he was from head to foot in the palest
+primrose, but with a countenance yet paler.
+
+There was no hint of enmity or alarm or astonishment in the
+colourless eyes that were fixed composedly on mine, nothing but
+courtesy in his low voice.
+
+"Back, Safte!--back, Sallow!" he cried softly to his hounds; "is this
+your civility? Indeed, sir," he continued to me, "it was all I could
+do to dissuade the creatures from giving tongue when you first
+appeared on the terrace of my solitary gardens. I heard too the
+water-sprite: she only sings when footsteps stray upon the banks." He
+smiled wanly, and his nose seemed even sharper in his pale face, and
+his yellow hair leaner about his shoulders. "I feared her voice might
+prove too persuasive, and deprive me of the first strange face I have
+seen these many decades gone."
+
+I bowed and murmured an apology for my intrusion, just as I might
+perhaps to some apparition of nightmare that over-stayed its welcome.
+
+"I beseech you, sir," he replied, "say no more! It may be I deemed you
+at first a visitor perchance even more welcome--if it be possible,...
+yet I know not that either. My name is Ennui,"--he smiled
+again--"Prince Ennui. You have, perchance, heard somewhere our sad
+story. This is the perpetual silence wherein lies that once-happy
+princess, my dear sister, Sleeping Beauty."
+
+His voice seemed but an echo amongst the walls and arches of this old
+house, and he spoke with a suave enunciation as if in an unfamiliar
+tongue.
+
+I replied that I had read the ever-lovely story of Sleeping Beauty,
+indeed knew it by heart, and assured him modestly that I had not the
+least doubt of a happy ending--"that is, if the author be the least
+authority."
+
+He narrowed his lids. "It is a tradition," he replied; "meanwhile, the
+thickets broaden."
+
+Whereupon I begged him to explain how it chanced that among that
+festive and animated company I had read of, he alone had resisted the
+wicked godmother's spell.
+
+He smiled distantly, and bowed me into the garden.
+
+"That is a simple thing," he said.
+
+Yet for the life of me I could not but doubt all he told me. He who
+could pass spring on to spring, summer on to summer, in the company of
+beasts so sly and silent, so alert and fleet as these hounds of his,
+could not be quite the amiable prince he feigned to be. I began to
+wish myself in homelier places.
+
+It seems that on the morning of the fatal spindle, he had gone
+coursing, with this Safte and Sallow and his horse named "Twilight,"
+and after wearying and heating himself at the sport, a little after
+noon, leaving his attendants, had set out to return to the palace
+alone. But allured by the cool seclusion of a "lattice-arbour" in his
+path, he had gone in, and then and there, "Twilight" beneath the
+willows, his hounds at his feet, had fallen asleep.
+
+Undisturbed, dreamless, "the unseemly hours sped light of foot." He
+awoke again, between sunset and dark; the owl astir; "the silver gnats
+yet netting the shadows," and so returned to the palace.
+
+But the spell had fallen--king and courtier, queen and lady and page
+and scullion, hawk and hound, slept a sleep past waking--"while I,
+roamed and roam yet in a solitary watch beyond all sleeping.
+Wherefore, sir, I only of the most hospitable house in these lands am
+awake to bid you welcome. But as for that, a few dwindling and harsh
+fruits in my orchards, and the cold river water that my dogs lap with
+me, are all that is left to offer you. For I who never sleep am never
+hungry, and they who never wake--I presume--never thirst. Would, sir,
+it were otherwise! After such long silence, then, conceive how
+strangely falls your voice on ears that have heard only wings
+fluttering, dismal water-songs, and the yelp and quarrel and
+night-voice of unseen hosts in the forests."
+
+He glanced at me with a mild austerity and again lowered his eyes. I
+cannot now but wonder how the rhythm of a voice so soft, so
+monotonous, could give such pleasure to the ear. I almost doubted my
+own eyes when I looked upon his yellow, on that unmoved, sad, mad,
+pale face.
+
+I had no doubt of his dogs, however, and walked scarcely at ease
+beside him, while they, shadow-footed, closely followed us at heel.
+
+"Prince Ennui" conducted me with shining lantern into a dense orchard
+thickly under-grown, marvellously green, with a small, hard fruit upon
+its branches, shaped like a medlar, of a crisp, sweet odour and,
+despite its hardness, a delicious taste. The interwoven twigs of the
+stooping trees were thickly nested; a veritable wilderness of moonlike
+and starry flowers ran all to seed amid the nettles and nightshade of
+this green silence. And while I ate--for I was hungry enough--Prince
+Ennui stood, his hand on Sallow's muzzle, lightly thridding the dusky
+labyrinths of the orchard with his faint green eyes.
+
+Mine, too, were not less busy, but rather with its lord than with his
+orchard. And the strange thought entered my mind, Was he in very deed
+the incarnation of this solitude, this silence, this lawless
+abundance? Somewhere, in the green heats of summer, had he come forth,
+taken shape, exalted himself? What but vegetable ichor coursed through
+veins transparent as his? What but the swarming mysteries of these
+thick woods lurked in his brain? As for his hounds, theirs was the
+same stealth, the same symmetry, the same cold, secret unhumanity as
+his. Creatures begotten of moonlight on silence they seemed to me,
+with instincts past my workaday wits to conceive.
+
+And Rosinante! I laughed softly to think of her staid bones beside the
+phantom creature this prince had called up to me at mention of
+"Twilight."
+
+I ate because I was ravenously hungry, but also because, while eating,
+I was better at my ease.
+
+Suddenly out of the stillness, like an arrow, Safte was gone; and far
+away beneath the motionless leaves a faint voice rang dwindling into
+silence. I shuddered at my probable fate.
+
+Prince Ennui glanced lightly. "When the magic horn at last resounds,"
+he said, "how strange a flight it will be! These thorny briers
+encroach ever nearer on my palace walls. I am a captive ever less at
+ease. Summer by summer the sun rises shorn yet closer of his beams,
+and now the lingering transit of the moon is but from one wood by a
+narrow crystal arch to another. They will have me yet, sir. How weary
+will the sleepy ones be of my uneasy footfall!"
+
+And even as Safte slipped softly back to his watching mate, the patter
+and shrill menace of voices behind him hinted not all was concord
+between these hidden multitudes and their unseemly prince.
+
+The master-stars shone earlier here; already sparkling above the tower
+was a canopy of clearest darkness spread, while the leafy fringes of
+the sky glowed yet with changing fires.
+
+We returned to the lawns before the palace porch, and, with his
+lantern in his hand, the Prince signed to me to go in. I was not a
+little curious to view that enchanted household of which I had read so
+often and with so much delight as a child.
+
+In the banqueting-hall only the matted windows were visible in the
+lofty walls. Prince Ennui held his lantern on high, and by its flame,
+and the faint light that flowed in from above, I could presently see,
+distinct in gloom, as many sleepers as even Night could desire.
+
+Here they reclined just as sorcerous sleep had overtaken them. But how
+dimmed, how fallen! For Time that could not change the sleeper had
+changed with quiet skill all else. Tarnished, dusty, withered,
+overtaken, yellowed, and confounded lay banquet and cloth-of-gold,
+flagon, cup, fine linen, table, and stool. But in all the ruin, like
+buds of springtime in a bare wood, or jewels in ashes, slumbered youth
+and beauty and bravery and delight.
+
+I lifted my eyes to the King. The gold of his divinity was fallen, his
+splendour quenched; but life's dark scrutiny from his face was gone.
+He made no stir at our light, slumbered untreasoned on. The lids of
+his Queen were lightlier sealed, only withheld beauty as a cloud the
+sky it hides. His courtiers flattered more elusively, being sincerely
+mute, and only a little red dust was all the wine left.
+
+I seemed to hear their laughter clearer now that the jest was
+forgotten, and to admire better the pomp, and the mirth, and the
+grace, and the vanity, now that time had so far travelled from this
+little tumult once their triumph.
+
+In a kind of furtive bravado, I paced the length of the long, thronged
+tables. Here sat a little prince that captivated me, dipping his
+fingers into his cup with a sidelong glance at his mother. There a
+high officer, I know not how magnificent and urgent when awake,
+slumbered with eyes wide open above his discouraged moustaches.
+
+Simply for vanity of being awake in such a sleepy company, I strutted
+conceitedly to and fro. I bent deftly and pilfered a little cockled
+cherry from between the very fingertips of her whose heart was
+doubtless like its--quite hard. And the bright lips never said a word.
+I sat down, rather clownishly I felt, beside an aged and simpering
+chancellor that once had seemed wise, but now seemed innocent,
+nibbling a biscuit crisp as scandal. For after all the horn _would_
+sound. Childhood had been quite sure of that--needed not even the
+author's testimony. They were alert to rise, scattering all dust,
+victors over Time and outrageous Fortune.
+
+Almost with a cry of apprehension I perceived again the solitary
+Prince. But he merely smiled faintly. "You see, sir," he said, "how
+weary must a guardianship be of them who never tire. The snow falls,
+and the bright light falls on all these faces; yet not even my Lady
+Melancholy stirs a dark lid. And all these dog-days--" He glanced at
+his motionless hounds. They raised languidly their narrow heads,
+whimpering softly, as if beseeching of their master that long-delayed
+supper--haplessly me. "No, no, sirs," said the Prince, as if he had
+read their desire as easily as he whom it so much concerned. "Guard,
+guard, and hearken. This gentleman is not the Prince we await, Sallow;
+not the Prince, Safte! And now, sir,"--he turned again to me--"there
+is yet one other sleeper--she who hath brought so much quietude on a
+festive house."
+
+We climbed the staircase where dim light lay so invitingly, and came
+presently to a little darker chamber. Green, blunt things had pushed
+and burst through the casement. The air smelled faintly-sour of brier,
+and was as still as boughs of snow. There the not-unhappy Princess
+reclined before a looking-glass, whither I suppose she had run to view
+her own alarm when the sharp needle pierced her thumb. All alarm was
+stilled now on her face. She, one might think, of all that company of
+the sleepy, was the only one that dreamed. Her youthful lips lay a
+little asunder; the heavy beauty of her hair was parted on her
+forehead; her childish hands sidled together like leverets in her lap.
+"Why!" I cried aloud, almost involuntarily, "she breathes!"
+
+And at sound of my voice the hounds leapt back; and, on a traveller's
+oath, I verily believe, once, and how swiftly, and how fearfully and
+brightly, those childish lids unsealed their light as of lilac that
+lay behind, glanced briefly, fleetingly, on one who had ventured so
+far, and fell again to rest.
+
+"And when," I cried harshly, "when will that laggard burst through
+this agelong silence? Here's dust enough for all to see. And all this
+ruin, this inhospitable peace!"
+
+Prince Ennui glanced strangely at me.
+
+"I assure you, O suddenly enkindled," he said in his suave, monotonous
+voice, "it is not for _my_ indifference he does not come. I would
+willingly sleep; these--my dear sister, all these old fineries and
+love-jinglers would as fain wake." He turned away his treacherous eyes
+from me. "Maybe the Lorelei hath snared him!..." he said, smiling.
+
+I relished not at all the thought of sleeping in this mansion of
+sleep. Yet it seemed politic to refrain from giving offence to fangs
+apparently so eager to take it. Accordingly I followed this Ennui to a
+loftier chamber yet that he suggested for me.
+
+Once there, however, and his soft footfall passed away, I looked about
+me, first to find a means for keeping trespassers from coming in, and
+next to find a means for getting myself out.
+
+It was a long and arduous, but not a perilous, descent from the window
+by the thick-grown greenery that cumbered the walls. But I determined
+to wait awhile before venturing,--wait, too, till I could see plainly
+where Rosinante had made her night-quarters. By good fortune I
+discovered her beneath the greenish moon that hung amid mist above the
+forest, stretching a disconsolate neck at the waterside as if in
+search of the Lorelei.
+
+When, as it seemed to me, it must be nearing dawn, though how the
+hours flitted so swiftly passed my comprehension, I very cautiously
+climbed out of my narrow window and descended slowly to the lawns
+beneath. My foot had scarcely touched ground when ringing and menacing
+from some dark gallery of the palace above me broke out a distant
+baying.
+
+Nothing shall persuade me to tell how fast I ran; how feverishly I
+haled poor Rosinante out of sleep, and pushed her down into the deeps
+of that coal-black stream; with what agility I clambered into the
+saddle.
+
+Yet I could not help commiserating the while the faithful soul who
+floated beneath me. The stream was swift but noiseless, the water
+rather rare than cold, yet, despite all the philosophy beaming out of
+her maidenly eyes across the smooth surface of the tide, Rosinante
+must have preferred from the bottom of her heart dry land.
+
+I, too, momentarily, when I discovered that we were speedily
+approaching the roaring fall whose reverberations I had heard long
+since.
+
+Out of the emerald twilight we floated from beneath the overarching
+thickets. Pale beams were striking from the risen sun upon the gliding
+surface, and dwelt in splendour where danger sat charioted beneath a
+palely gorgeous bow. Yet I doubt if ever mortal man swept on to defeat
+at last so rapturously as I.
+
+The gloomier trees had now withdrawn from the banks of the river. A
+pale morning sky over-canopied the shimmering forests. Here rose the
+solitary tower where Echo tarried for the Hornblower. And straight
+before us, across that level floor, beyond a tremulous cloud of foam
+and light and colour, lurked the unseen, the unimaginable, the
+ever-dreamed-of, Death.
+
+Heedless of Lorelei, heedless of all save the beauty and terror and
+glory in which they rode, down swept snorting ship and master to doom.
+
+The crystal water jargoned past my saddle. Sky, earth, and tower, like
+the panorama of a dream, wheeled around me. Light blinded me; clamour
+deafened me; foam and the pure wave and cold darkness whelmed over me.
+We surged, paused, gazed, nodded, crashed:--and so an end to Ennui.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+    _He loves to talk with marineres
+    That come from a far countree._
+
+    --SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+
+How long my body was the sport of that foaming water I cannot tell.
+But when I again opened my eyes, I found, first, that the sun was
+shining dazzling clear high above me, and, next, that the delightful
+noise of running water babbled close against my ear. I lay upon a
+strip of warm sward by the river's brink. Near by me grew some
+rank-smelling waterside plant, and overhead the air seemed peopled
+with larks.
+
+I crawled, confused and aching, to the water, and dipped my head and
+hands into the cold rills. This soon refreshed me, for the sun had, it
+would seem, long been dwelling on that passive corse of mine by the
+waterside and had parched it to the skin.
+
+But it was some little while yet before my mind returned fully to
+what had passed, and so to my loss.
+
+I sat looking at the grey, noisy water, almost incredulous that
+Rosinante could be gone. It might be that the same hand as must have
+drawn myself from drowning had snatched her bridle also out of Fate's
+grasp. Perhaps even now she was seeking her master by the greener
+pasture of the wide plains around me. Perhaps the far-off sea was her
+green sepulchre. But many waters cannot quench love. I faced,
+friendless and discomfited, a region as strange to me as the farther
+side of the moon.
+
+Without more ado I rose, shook myself, and sadly began to go forward.
+But I had taken only a few steps along the banks of the stream--for
+here was fresh water, at least--when a sound like distant thunder
+rolled over these flat, green lands towards me, increasing steadily in
+volume.
+
+I stood, lost in wonder, and presently, at the distance, perhaps, of a
+little less than a mile, descried an innumerable herd of horses
+streaming across these level pastures, and at the extremity, it
+seemed, of a wide ellipse, that had brought them near, and now was
+galloping them away.
+
+My heart beat a little faster at this extraordinary spectacle. And
+while I stood in uncertainty gazing after the retreating concourse, I
+perceived a figure running towards me, lifting his hands and crying
+out in a voice sonorous and inhuman. He was of a stature much above my
+own, yet so gross in shape and immense of head he seemed at first
+almost dwarfish. He came to a stand twenty paces or so from me, on the
+ridge of a gentle inclination, and gazed down on me with wild, bright
+eyes. Even at this distance I could perceive the almost colourless
+lustre of his eyes beneath his thick locks of yellow hair. When he had
+taken his fill of me, he lifted his head again and cried out to me a
+few words of what certainly might be English, but was neither
+intelligible nor reassuring.
+
+I stood my ground and stared him in the face, till I could see nothing
+but wind-blown yellow, and strange, brutal eyes. Then he advanced a
+little nearer. Whereupon I also raised my hand with a gesture like
+his own, and demanded loudly where I was, what was this place, and who
+was he. His very ears pricked forward, he listened so intently. He
+came nearer yet, then stayed, tossed his head into the air, whirled
+the long leather thong he carried above his head, and, signing to me
+to follow, set off with so swift and easy a stride as would soon have
+carried him out of sight, had he not turned and perceived how slowly I
+could follow him.
+
+He slackened his pace then, and, thus running, we came in sight at
+length of what appeared to be a vast wooden shed, or barn, with one
+rude chimney, and surrounded by a thick fence, or stockade, many feet
+high and apparently of immense strength and stability.
+
+In the gateway of this fence stood the master of these solitudes, his
+eyes fixed strangely on my coming with an intense, I had almost said
+incredulous, interest. Nor did he cease so to regard me, while the
+creature that had conducted me thither, told, I suppose, where he had
+found me, and poured out with childish zeal his own amazement and
+delight. By this time, too, his voice had begun to lose its first
+strangeness, and to take a meaning for me. And I was presently fully
+persuaded he spoke a kind of English, and that not unpleasingly, with
+a liquid, shrill, voluminous ease. His master listened patiently
+awhile, but at last bade his servant be silent, and himself addressed
+me.
+
+"I am informed, Yahoo," he said with peculiar deliberation, "that you
+have been borne down into my meadows by the river, and fetched out
+thence by my servant. Be aware, then, that all these lands from
+horizon to horizon are mine and my people's. I desire no tidings of
+what follies may be beyond my boundaries, no aid, and no amity. I
+admit no trespasser here and will bear with none. It appears, however,
+that your life has passed beyond your own keeping: I may not,
+therefore, refuse you shelter and food, and to have you conducted in
+safety beyond my borders. Have the courtesy, then, to keep within
+shelter of these walls till the night be over. Else"--he gazed out
+across the verdant undulations--"else, Yahoo, I have no power to
+protect you."
+
+He turned once more, and regarded me with a lofty yet tender
+recognition, as if, little though his speech might profess it, he very
+keenly desired my safety.
+
+He then stepped aside and bade me rather sharply enter the gate before
+him. I tried to show none of the mistrust I felt at passing out of
+these open lands into this repellent yard. I glanced at the
+shock-haired creature, alert, half-human, beside me; across the
+limitless savannah around me, echoing yet, it seemed, with the rumour
+of innumerable hoofs; and bowing, as it were, to odds, I went in.
+
+On the other hand, I felt my host had been frank with me. If this was
+indeed the same Lemuel Gulliver whose repute my infancy had prized so
+well, I need have no fear of blood and treachery at his hands, however
+primitive and disgusting his household, or distorted his intellect
+might be. He who had proved no tyrant in Lilliput, nor quailed before
+the enormities of Brobdingnag, might abhor the sight of me; he would
+not play me false.
+
+His servant, or whatsoever else he might be, I considered not quite
+so calmly. Yet even in _his_ broad countenance dwelt a something like
+bright honesty, less malice than simplicity.
+
+Wherefore, I say, I ordered down my cowardice, and, looking both of
+them as squarely in the face as I knew how, passed out of the open
+into the appalling yard of this wooden house.
+
+I say "appalling," but without much reason. Perhaps it was the
+unseemly hugeness of its balks, the foul piles of skins, the mounds of
+refuse that lay about within; perhaps the all-pervading beastly
+stench, the bareness and filthiness under so glassy-clear and fierce a
+sun that revolted me. All man's seemliness and affection for the
+natural things of earth were absent. Here was only a brutal and bald
+order, as of an intelligence like that of the yellow-locked,
+swift-footed creature behind me. Perhaps also it was the mere
+unfamiliarity of much I saw there that estranged me. All lay in
+neglect, cracked and marred with rough usage,--coarse strands of a
+kind of rope, strips of hide, gaping tubs, a huge and rusty brazier,
+and in one corner a great cage, many feet square and surmounted with
+an iron ring.
+
+I know not. I almost desired Sallow at my side, and would to heaven
+Rosinante's nose lay in my palm.
+
+Within the house a wood-fire burned in the sun, its smoke ascending to
+the roof, and flowing thence through a rude chimney. A pot steamed
+over the fire, burdening the air with a savour at first somewhat faint
+and disgusting,--perhaps because it was merely strange to me. The
+walls of this lofty room were of rough, substantial timber, bare and
+weatherproof; the floor was of the colour of earth, seemingly earth
+itself. A few rude stools, a bench, and a four-legged table stood
+beside the unshuttered window. And from this stretched the beauteous
+green of the grass-land or prairie beyond the stockade.
+
+The house, then, was built on the summit of a gentle mound, and
+doubtless commanded from its upper window the extreme reaches of this
+sea of verdure.
+
+I sat down where Mr. Gulliver directed me, and was not displeased with
+the warmth of the fire, despite the sun. I was cold after that long,
+watery lullaby, and cold too with exhaustion after running so far at
+the heels of the creature who had found me. And I dwelt in a kind of
+dream on the transparent flames, and watched vacantly the seething
+pot, and smelt till slowly appetite returned the smoke of the stuff
+that bubbled beneath its lid.
+
+Mr. Gulliver himself brought me my platter of this pottage, and though
+it tasted of nothing in my experience--a kind of sweet, cloying
+meat--I was so tired of the fruits to which enterprise had as yet
+condemned me, I ate of it hungrily and heartily. Yet not so fast as
+that the young "Gulliver" had not finished his before me, and sat at
+length watching every mouthful I took from beneath his sun-enticing
+thatch of hair. Ever and again he would toss up his chin with a shrill
+guffaw, or stoop his head till his eyeballs were almost hidden
+beneath their thick lashes, so regarding me for minutes together with
+a delightful simulation of intelligence, yet with that peculiar
+wistful affection his master had himself exhibited at first sight of
+me.
+
+But when our meal was done, Mr. Gulliver ordered him about his
+business. Without a murmur, with one last, long, brotherly glance at
+me, he withdrew. And presently after I heard from afar his high,
+melancholy "cooee," and the crack of his thong in the afternoon air as
+he hastened out to his charges.
+
+My companion did not stir. Only the flames waved silently along the
+logs. The beam of sunlight drew across the floor. The crisp air of the
+pasture flowed through the window. What wonder, then, that, sitting on
+my stool, I fell asleep!
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+    _If I see all, ye're nine to ane!_
+
+    --OLD BALLAD.
+
+
+I was awoke by a sustained sound as of an orator speaking in an
+unknown tongue, and found myself in a sunny-shadowy loft, whither I
+suppose I must have been carried in my sleep. In a delicious languor
+between sleeping and waking I listened with imperturbable curiosity
+awhile to that voice of the unknown. Indeed, I was dozing again when a
+different sound, enormous, protracted, abruptly aroused me. I got up,
+hot and trembling, not yet quite my own master, to discover its cause.
+
+Through a narrow slit between the timbers I could view the country
+beneath me, far and wide. I saw near at hand the cumbrous gate of the
+stockade ajar, and at a little distance on the farther side Mr.
+Gulliver and his half-human servant standing. In front of them was an
+empty space--a narrow semicircle of which Gulliver was the centre. And
+beyond--wild-eyed, dishevelled, stretching their necks as if to see,
+inclining their heads as if to hearken, ranging in multitude almost to
+the sky's verge--stood assembled, it seemed to me, all the horses of
+the universe.
+
+Even in my first sensation of fear admiration irresistibly stirred.
+The superb freedom of their unbridled heads, the sun-nurtured
+arrogance of their eyes, the tumultuous, sea-like tossing of crest and
+tail, their keenness and ardour and might, and also in simple truth
+their numbers--how could one marvel if this solitary fanatic dreamed
+they heard him and understood?
+
+Unarmed, bareheaded, he faced the brutal discontent of his people.
+Words I could not distinguish; but there was little chance of
+misapprehending the haughty anguish with which he threatened, pleaded,
+cajoled. Clear and unfaltering his voice rose and fell. He dealt out
+fearlessly, foolishly, to that long-snouted, little-brained,
+wild-eyed multitude, reason beyond their instinct, persuasion beyond
+their savagery, love beyond their heed.
+
+But even while I listened, one thing I knew those sleek malcontents
+heard too--the Spirit of man in that small voice of his--perplexed,
+perhaps, and perverted, and out of tether; but none the less
+unconquerable and sublime.
+
+What less, thought I, than power unearthly could long maintain that
+stern, impassable barrier of green vacancy between their hoofs and
+him? And I suppose for the very reason that these were beasts of a
+long-sharpened sagacity, wild-hearted, rebellious, yet not the slaves
+of impulse, he yet kept himself their king who was, in fact, their
+captive.
+
+"Houyhnhnms?" I heard him cry; "pah--Yahoos!" His voice fell; he stood
+confronting in silence that vast circumference of restless beauty. And
+again broke out inhuman, inarticulate, immeasurable revolt. Far across
+over the tossing host, rearing, leaping, craning dishevelled heads,
+went pealing and eddying that hostile, brutal voice.
+
+Gulliver lifted his hand, and a tempestuous silence fell once more.
+"Yahoos! Yahoos!" he bawled again. Then he turned, and passed back
+into his hideous garden. The gate was barred and bolted behind him.
+
+Thus loosed and unrestrained, surged as if the wind drove them, that
+concourse upon the stockade. Heavy though its timbers were, they
+seemed to stoop at the impact. A kind of fury rose in me. I lusted to
+go down and face the mutiny of the brutes; bit, and saddle, and
+scourge into obedience man's serfs of the centuries. I watched, on
+fire, the flame of the declining sun upon those sleek, vehement
+creatures of the dust. And then, I know not by what subtle irony, my
+zeal turned back--turned back and faded away into simple longing for
+my lost friend, my peaceful beast-of-evening, Rosinante. I sat down
+again in the litter of my bed and earnestly wished myself home;
+wished, indeed, if I must confess it, for the familiar face of my Aunt
+Sophia, my books, my bed. If these were this land's horses, I thought,
+what men might here be met! The unsavouriness, the solitude, the
+neighing and tumult and prancing induced in me nothing but dulness at
+last and disgust.
+
+But at length, dismissing all such folly, at least from my face, I
+lifted the trap-door and descended the steep ladder into the room
+beneath.
+
+Mr. Gulliver sat where I had left him. Defeat stared from his eyes.
+Lines of insane thought disfigured his face. Yet he sat, stubborn and
+upright, heedless of the uproar, heedless even that the late beams of
+the sun had found him out in his last desolation. So I too sat down
+without speech, and waited till he should come up out of his gloom,
+and find a friend in a stranger.
+
+But day waned; the sunlight went out of the great wooden room; the
+tumult diminished; and finally silence and evening shadow descended on
+the beleaguered house. And I was looking out of the darkened window at
+a star that had risen and stood shining in the sky, when I was
+startled by a voice so low and so different from any I had yet heard
+that I turned to convince myself it was indeed Mr. Gulliver's.
+
+"And the people of the Yahoos, Traveller," he said, "do they still
+lie, and flatter, and bribe, and spill blood, and lust, and covet? Are
+there yet in the country whence you come the breadless bellies, the
+sores and rags and lamentations of the poor? Ay, Yahoo, and do vicious
+men rule, and attain riches; and impious women pomp and
+flattery?--hypocrites, pandars, envious, treacherous, proud?" He
+stared with desolate sorrow and wrath into my eyes.
+
+Words in disorder flocked to my tongue. I grew hot and eager, yet by
+some instinct held my peace. The fluttering of the dying flames, the
+starry darkness, silence itself; what were we who sat together?
+Transient shadows both, phantom, unfathomable, mysterious as these.
+
+I fancied he might speak again. Once he started, raised his arm, and
+cried out as if acting again in dream some frenzy of the past. And
+once he wheeled on me extraordinary eyes, as if he half-recognised
+some idol of the irrevocable in my face. These were momentary,
+however. Gloom returned to his forehead, vacancy to his eyes.
+
+I heard the outer gate flung open, and a light, strange footfall. So
+we seated ourselves, all three, for a while round the smouldering
+fire. Mr. Gulliver's servant scarcely took his eyes from my face. And,
+a little to my confusion, his first astonishment of me had now passed
+away, and in its stead had fallen such a gentleness and humour as I
+should not have supposed possible in his wild countenance. He busied
+himself over his strips of skin, but if he caught my eye upon his own
+he would smile out broadly, and nod his great, hairy head at me, till
+I fancied myself a child again and he some vast sweetheart of my
+nurse.
+
+When we had supped (sitting together in the great room), I climbed the
+ladder into the loft and was soon fast asleep. But from dreams
+distracted with confusion I awoke at the first shafts of dawn. I stood
+beside the narrow window in the wall of the loft and watched the
+distant river change to silver, the bright green of the grass appear.
+
+This seemed a place of few and timorous birds, and of fewer trees. But
+all across the dews of the grasses lay a tinge of powdered gold, as
+if yellow flowers were blooming in abundance there. I saw no horses,
+no sign of life; heard no sound but the cadent wail of the ash-grey
+birds in their flights. And when I turned my eyes nearer home, and
+compared the distant beauty of the forests and their radiant clouds
+with the nakedness and desolation here, I gave up looking from the
+window with a determination to be gone as soon as possible from a
+country so uncongenial.
+
+Moreover, Mr. Gulliver, it appeared, had returned during the night to
+his first mistrust of my company. He made no sign he saw me, and left
+his uncouth servant to attend on me. For him, indeed, I began to feel
+a kind of affection springing up; he seemed so eager to befriend me.
+And whose is the heart quite hardened against a simple admiration? I
+rose very gladly when, after having stuffed a wallet with food, he
+signed to me to follow him. I turned to Mr. Gulliver and held out my
+hand.
+
+"I wish, sir, I might induce you to accompany me," I said. "Some day
+we would win our way back to the country we have abandoned. I have
+known and loved your name, sir, since first I browsed on
+pictures--Being measured for your first coat in Lilliput by the little
+tailors:--Straddling the pinnacled city. Ay, sir, and when the farmers
+picked you up 'twixt finger and thumb from among their cornstalks...."
+
+I had talked on in hope to see his face relax; but he made no sign he
+saw or heard me. I very speedily dropped my hand and went out. But
+when my guide and I had advanced about thirty yards from the stockade,
+I cast a glance over my shoulder towards the house that had given me
+shelter. It rose, sad-coloured and solitary, between the green and
+blue. But, if it was not fancy, Mr. Gulliver stood looking down on me
+from the very window whence I had looked down on him. And there I do
+not doubt he stayed till his fellow-yahoo had passed across his
+inhospitable lands out of his sight for ever.
+
+I was glad to be gone, and did not, at first, realise that the least
+danger lay before us. But soon, observing the extraordinary vigilance
+and caution my companion showed, I began to watch and hearken, too.
+Evidently our departure had not passed unseen. Far away to left and to
+right of us I descried at whiles now a few, now many, swift-moving
+shapes. But whether they were advancing with us, or gathering behind
+us, in hope to catch their tyrant alone and unaware, I could not
+properly distinguish.
+
+Once, for a cause not apparent to me, my guide raised himself to his
+full height, and, thrusting back his head, uttered a most piercing
+cry. After that, however, we saw no more for a while of the beasts
+that haunted our journey.
+
+All morning, till the sun was high, and the air athrob with heat and
+stretched like a great fiddlestring to a continuous, shrill vibration,
+we went steadily forward. And when at last I was faint with heat and
+thirst, my companion lifted me up like a child on to his back and set
+off again at his great, easy stride. It was useless to protest. I
+merely buried my hands in his yellow hair to keep my balance in such a
+camel-like motion.
+
+A little after noon we stayed to rest by a shallow brook, beneath a
+cluster of trees scented, though not in blossom, like an English
+hawthorn. There we ate our meal, or rather I ate and my companion
+watched, running out ever and again for a wider survey, and returning
+to me like a faithful dog, to shout snatches of his inconceivable
+language at me.
+
+Sometimes I seemed to catch his meaning, bidding me take courage, have
+no fear, he would protect me. And once he shaded his eyes and pointed
+afar with extreme perturbation, whining or murmuring while he stared.
+
+Again we set off from beneath the sweet-scented shade, and now no
+doubt remained that I was the object of very hostile evolutions.
+Sometimes these smooth-hooved battalions would advance, cloudlike, to
+within fifty yards of us, and, snorting, ruffle their manes and wheel
+swiftly away; only once more in turn to advance, and stand, with heads
+exalted, gazing wildly on us till we were passed on a little. But my
+guide gave them very little heed. Did they pause a moment too long in
+our path, or gallop down on us but a stretch or two beyond the limit
+his instinct had set for my safety, he whirled his thong above his
+head, and his yell resounded, and like a shadow upon wheat the furious
+companies melted away.
+
+Evidently these were not the foes he looked for, but a subtler, a more
+indomitable. It was at last, I conjectured, at scent, or sight, or
+rumour of these that he suddenly swept me on to his shoulders again,
+and with a great sneeze or bellow leapt off at a speed he had, as yet,
+given me no hint of.
+
+Looking back as best I could, I began to discern somewhat to the left
+of us a numerous herd in pursuit, sorrel in colour, and of a more
+magnificent aspect than those forming the other bands. It was obvious,
+too, despite their plunging and rearing, that they were gaining on
+us--drew, indeed, so near at last that I could count the foremost of
+them, and mark (not quite callously) their power and fleetness and
+symmetry, even the sun's gold upon their reddish skins.
+
+Then in a flash my captor set me down, toppled me over (in plain
+words) into the thick herbage, and, turning, rushed bellowing,
+undeviating towards their leaders, till it seemed he must inevitably
+be borne down beneath their brute weight, and so--farewell to summer.
+But almost at the impact, the baffled creatures reared, neighing
+fearfully in consort, and at the gibberish hurled back on them by
+their flamed-eyed master, broke in rout, and fled.
+
+Whereupon, unpausing, he ran back to me, only just in time to rescue
+me from the nearer thunder yet of those who had seized the very acme
+of their opportunity to beat out my brains.
+
+It was a long and arduous and unequal contest. I wished very heartily
+I could bear a rather less passive part. But this fearless creature
+scarcely heeded me; used me like a helpless child, half tenderly, half
+roughly, displaying ever and again over his shoulder only a fleeting
+glance of the shallow glories of his eyes, as if to reassure me of his
+power and my safety.
+
+But the latter, those distant savannahs will bear witness, seemed
+forlorn enough. My eyes swam with weariness of these crested,
+earth-disdaining battalions. I sickened of the heat of the sun, the
+incessant sidelong jolting, the amazing green. But on we went, fleet
+and stubborn, into ever-thickening danger. How feeble a quarry amid so
+many hunters!
+
+Two things grew clearer to me each instant. First, that every movement
+and feint of our pursuers was of design. Not a beast that wheeled but
+wheeled to purpose; while the main body never swerved, thundered
+superbly on toward the inevitable end. And next I perceived with even
+keener assurance that my guide knew his country and his enemy and his
+own power and aim as perfectly and consummately; knew, too--this was
+the end.
+
+Far distant in front of us there appeared to be a break in the level
+green, a fringe of bushes, rougher ground. For this refuge he was
+making, and from this our mutinous Houyhnhnms meant to keep us.
+
+There was no pausing now, not a glance behind. His every effort was
+bent on speed. Speed indeed it was. The wind roared in my ears. Yet
+above its surge I heard the neighing and squealing, the
+ever-approaching shudder of hoofs. My eyes distorted all they looked
+on. I seemed now floating twenty feet in air; now skimming within
+touch of ground. Now that sorrel squadron behind me swelled and
+nodded; now dwindled to an extreme minuteness of motion.
+
+Then, of a sudden, a last, shrill paean rose high; the hosts of our
+pursuers paused, billow-like, reared, and scattered--my poor Yahoo
+leapt clear.
+
+For an instant once again in this wild journey I was poised, as it
+were, in space, then fell with a crash, still clutched, sure and
+whole, to the broad shoulders of my rescuer.
+
+When my first confusion had passed away, I found that I was lying in a
+dense green glen at the foot of a cliff. For some moments I could
+think of nothing but my extraordinary escape from destruction. Within
+reach of my hand lay the creature who had carried me, huddled and
+motionless; and to left and to right of me, and one a little nearer
+the base of the cliff, five of those sorrel horses that had been
+chief of our pursuers. One only of them was alive, and he, also,
+broken and unable to rise--unable to do else than watch with fierce,
+untamed, glazing eyes (a bloody froth at his muzzle,) every movement
+and sign of life I made.
+
+I myself, though bruised and bleeding, had received no serious injury.
+But my Yahoo would rise no more. His master was left alone amidst his
+people. I stooped over him and bathed his brow and cheeks with the
+water that trickled from the cliffs close at hand. I pushed back the
+thick strands of matted yellow hair from his eyes. He made no sign.
+Even while I watched him the life of the poor beast near at hand
+welled away: he whinnied softly, and dropped his head upon the
+bracken. I was alone in the unbroken silence.
+
+It seemed a graceless thing to leave the carcasses of these brave
+creatures uncovered there. So I stripped off branches of the trees,
+and gathered bundles of fern and bracken, with which to conceal awhile
+their bones from wolf and fowl. And him whom I had begun to love I
+covered last, desiring he might but return, if only for a moment, to
+bid me his strange farewell.
+
+This done, I pushed through the undergrowth from the foot of the sunny
+cliffs, and after wandering in the woods, came late in the afternoon,
+tired out, to a ruinous hut. Here I rested, refreshing myself with the
+unripe berries that grew near by.
+
+I remained quite still in this mouldering hut looking out on the glens
+where fell the sunlight. Some homely bird warbled endlessly on in her
+retreat, lifted her small voice till every hollow resounded with her
+content. Silvery butterflies wavered across the sun's pale beams,
+sipped, and flew in wreaths away. The infinite hordes of the dust
+raised their universal voice till, listening, it seemed to me their
+tiny Babel was after all my own old, far-off English, sweet of the
+husk.
+
+Fate leads a man through danger to his delight. Me she had led among
+woods. Nameless though many of the cups and stars and odours of the
+flowers were to me, unfamiliar the little shapes that gamboled in fur
+and feather before my face, here dwelt, mummy of all earth's summers,
+some old ghost of me, sipper of sap, coucher in moss, quieter than
+dust.
+
+So sitting, so rhapsodising, I began to hear presently another
+sound--the rich, juicy munch-munch of jaws, a little blunted maybe,
+which yet, it seemed, could never cry Enough! to these sweet,
+succulent grasses. I made no sign, waited with eyes towards the sound,
+and pulses beating as if for a sweetheart. And soon, placid,
+unsurprised, at her extreme ease, loomed into sight who but my
+ox-headed Rosinante in these dells, cropping her delightful way along
+in search of her drowned master.
+
+I could but whistle and receive the slow, soft scrutiny of her
+familiar eyes. I fancied even her bland face smiled, as might
+elderliness on youth. She climbed near with bridle broken and
+trailing, thrust out her nose to me, and so was mine again.
+
+Sunlight left the woods. Wind passed through the upper branches. So,
+with rain in the air, I went forward once more; not quite so headily,
+perhaps, yet, I hope, with undiminished courage, like all earth's
+travellers before me, who have deemed truth potent as modesty, and
+themselves worth scanning print after.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+    _A ... shop of rarities._
+
+    --GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+A little before darkness fell we struck into a narrow road traversing
+the wood. This, though apparently not much frequented, would at least
+lead me into lands inhabited, so turning my face to the West, that I
+might have light to survey as long as any gleamed in the sky, I
+trudged on. But I went slow enough: Rosinante was lame; I like a
+stranger to my body, it was so bruised and tumbled.
+
+The night was black, and a thin rain falling when at last I emerged
+from the interminable maze of lanes into which the wood-road had led
+me. And glad I was to descry what seemed by the many lights shining
+from its windows to be a populous village. A gay village also, for
+song came wafted on the night air, rustic and convivial.
+
+Hereabouts I overtook a figure on foot, who, when I addressed him,
+turned on me as sharply as if he supposed the elms above him were
+thick with robbers, or that mine was a voice out of the unearthly
+hailing him.
+
+I asked him the name of the village we were approaching. With small
+dark eyes searching my face in the black shadow of night, he answered
+in a voice so strange and guttural that I failed to understand a word.
+He shook his fingers in the air; pointed with the cudgel he carried
+under his arm now to the gloom behind us, now to the homely galaxy
+before us, and gabbled on so fast and so earnestly that I began to
+suppose he was a little crazed.
+
+One word, however, I caught at last from all this jargon, and that
+often repeated with a little bow to me, and an uneasy smile on his
+white face--"Mishrush, Mishrush!" But whether by this he meant to
+convey to me his habitual mood, or his own name, I did not learn till
+afterwards. I stopped in the heavy road and raised my hand.
+
+"An inn," I cried in his ear, "I want lodging, supper--a tavern, an
+inn!" as if addressing a child or a natural.
+
+He began gesticulating again, evidently vain of having fully
+understood me. Indeed, he twisted his little head upon his shoulders
+to observe Rosinante gauntly labouring on. "'Ame!--'ame!" he cried
+with a great effort.
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Ah!" he cried piteously.
+
+He led me, after a few minutes' journey, into the cobbled yard of a
+bright-painted inn, on whose signboard a rising sun glimmered faintly
+gold, and these letters standing close above it--"The World's End."
+
+Mr. "Mishrush" seemed not a little relieved at nearing company after
+his lonely walk; triumphant, too, at having guided me hither so
+cunningly. He lifted his nimble cudgel in the air and waved it
+conceitedly to and fro in time to the song that rose beyond the
+window. "Fau'ow er Wur'!--Fau'ow er Wur'!" he cried delightedly again
+and again in my ear, eager apparently for my approval. So we stood,
+then, beneath the starless sky, listening to the rich _choragium_ of
+the "World's End." They sang in unison, sang with a kind of forlorn
+heat and enthusiasm. And when the song was ended, and the roar of
+applause over, Night, like a darkened water whelmed silently in,
+engulfed it to the echo:
+
+    Follow the World--
+      She bursts the grape,
+    And dandles man
+      In her green lap;
+    She moulds her Creature
+      From the clay,
+    And crumbles him
+      To dust away:
+        Follow the World!
+
+    One Draught, one Feast,
+      One Wench, one Tomb;
+    And thou must straight
+      To ashes come:
+    Drink, eat, and sleep;
+      Why fret and pine?
+    Death can but snatch
+      What ne'er was thine:
+        Follow the World!
+
+It died away, I say, and an ostler softly appeared out of the shadow.
+Into his charge, then, I surrendered Rosinante, and followed my
+inarticulate acquaintance into the noise and heat and lustre of the
+Inn.
+
+It was a numerous company there assembled. But their voices fell to a
+man on the entry of a stranger. They scrutinised me, not uncivilly,
+but closely, seeking my badge, as it were by which to recognise and
+judge me ever after.
+
+Mr. Mistrust, as I presently discovered my guide's name indeed to be,
+was volubly explaining how I came into his company. They listened
+intently to what, so far as I could gather, might be Houyhnhnmish or
+Double-Dutch. And then, as if to show me to my place forthwith, a
+great fleshy fellow that sat close beside the hearth this summer
+evening continued in a loud voice the conversation I had interrupted.
+
+Whereupon Mr. Mistrust with no little confidence commended me in dumb
+show to the landlady of the Inn, a Mrs. Nature, if I understood him
+aright. This person was still comely, though of uncertain age, wore
+cherry ribbons, smiled rather vacantly from vague, wonderful,
+indescribable eyes that seemed to change colour, like the chameleon,
+according to that they dwelt on.
+
+I am afraid, as much to my amusement as wonder, I discovered that this
+landlady of so much apparent _bonhomie_ was a deaf-mute. If victuals,
+or drink, or bed were required, one must chalk it down on a little
+slate she carried at her girdle for the purpose. Indeed, the absence
+of two of her three chief senses had marvellously sharpened the
+remaining one. Her eyes were on all, vaguely dwelling, lightly gone,
+inscrutable, strangely fascinating. She moved easily and soundlessly
+(as fat women may), and I doubt if ever mug or pot of any of that
+talkative throng remained long empty, except at the tippler's
+reiterated request.
+
+She laid before me an excellent supper on a little table somewhat
+removed beside a curtained window. And while I ate I watched, and
+listened, not at all displeased with my entertainment.
+
+The room in which we sat was low-ceiled and cheerful, but rather
+close after the rainy night-air. Gay pictures beautified the walls.
+Here a bottle, a cheese, grapes, a hare, a goblet--in a clear brown
+light that made the guest's mouth water to admire. Here a fine
+gentleman toasting a simpering chambermaid. Above the chimney-piece a
+bloated old man in vineleaves that might be Silenus. And over against
+the door of the parlour what I took to be a picture of Potiphar's wife,
+she looked out of the paint so bold and beauteous and craftily. Birds
+and fishes in cases stared glassily,--owl and kestrel, jack and eel
+and gudgeon. All was clean and comfortable as a hospitable inn can be.
+
+But they who frequented it interested me much more--as various and
+animated a gathering as any I have seen. Yet in some peculiar manner
+they seemed one and all not to the last tittle quite of this world.
+They were, so to speak, more earthy, too definite, too true to the
+mould, like figures in a bleak, bright light viewed out of darkness.
+Certainly not one of them was at first blush prepossessing. Yet who
+finds much amiss with the fox at last, though all he seems to have be
+cunning?
+
+Near beside me, however, sat retired a man a little younger and more
+at his ease than most of the many there, and as busy with his eyes and
+ears as I. His name, I learned presently, was Reverie; and from him I
+gathered not a little information regarding the persons who talked and
+sipped around us.
+
+He told me at whiles that his house was not in the village, but in a
+valley some few miles distant across the meadows; that he sat out
+these bouts of argument and slander for the sheer delight he had in
+gathering the myriad strands of that strange rope Opinion; that he
+lived (heart, soul, and hope) well-nigh alone; that he deeply
+mistrusted this place, and the company we were in, yet not for its
+mistress's sake, who was at least faithful to her instincts, candid to
+the candid, made no favourites, and, eventually, compelled order. He
+told me also that if friends he had, he deemed it wiser not to name
+them, since the least sibilant of the sound of the voice incites to
+treachery; and in conclusion, that of all men he was acquainted with,
+one at least never failed to right his humour; and that one was yonder
+flabby, pallid fellow with the velvet collar to his coat, and the
+rings on his fingers, and the gold hair, named Pliable, who sat beside
+Mr. Stubborn on the settle by the fire.
+
+When, then, I had finished my supper, I drew in my chair a little
+closer to Mr. Reverie's and, having scribbled my wants on the
+Landlady's slate, turned my attention to the talk.
+
+At the moment when I first began to listen attentively they seemed to
+be in heated dispute concerning the personal property of a certain Mr.
+Christian, who was either dead or had inexplicably disappeared. Mr.
+Obstinate, I gathered, had taken as his right this Christian's
+"easy-chair"; a gentleman named Smoothman most of his other goods for
+a debt; while a Parson Decorum had appropriated as heretical his
+books and various peculiar MSS.
+
+But there now remained in question a trifling sum of money which a Mr.
+Liar loudly demanded in payment of an "affair of honour." This,
+however, he seemed little likely to obtain, seeing that an elderly
+uncle by marriage of Christian's, whose name was Office, was as eager
+and affable and frank about the sum as he was bent on keeping it; and
+rattled the contents of his breeches' pocket in sheer bravado of his
+means to go to law for it.
+
+"He left a bare pittance, the merest pittance," he said. "What could
+there be of any account? Christian despised money, professed to
+despise it. That alone would prove my wretched nephew queer in the
+head--despised _money_!
+
+"Tush, friend!" cried Obstinate from his corner. "Whether the money is
+yours, or neighbour Liar's--and it is as likely as not neither's--that
+talk about despising money's what but a silly lie? 'Twas all sour
+grapes--sour grapes. He had cunning enough for envy, and pride enough
+for shame; and at last there was naught but cunning left wherewith to
+patch up a clout for him and his shame to be gone in. I watched him
+set out on his pestilent pilgrimage, crazed and stubborn, and not a
+groat to call his own."
+
+"Yet I have heard say he came of a moneyed stock," said Pliable. "The
+Sects of Privy Opinion were rare wealthy people, and they, so 'tis
+said, were his kinsmen. Truth is, for aught I know, Christian must
+have been in some degree a very liberal rascal, with all his faults."
+He tittered.
+
+"Oh! he was liberal enough," said Mr. Malice suavely: "why, even on
+setting out, he emptied his wife's purse into a blind beggar's
+hat!--his that used to bleat, 'Cast thy bread--cast thy bread upon the
+waters!' whensoever he spied Christian stepping along the street. They
+say," he added, burying his clever face in his mug, "the Heavenly
+Jerusalem lieth down by the weir."
+
+"But we must not contemn a man for his poverty, neighbours," said
+Liar, gravely composing his hairless face. "Christian's was a
+character of beautiful simplicity--beautiful! _How_ many rickety
+children did he leave behind him?"
+
+A shrill voice called somewhat I could not quite distinguish, for at
+that moment a youth rose abruptly near by, and went hastily out.
+
+Obstinate stared roundly. "Thou hast a piercing voice, friend Liar!"
+
+"I did but seek the truth," said Liar.
+
+"But whether or no, Christian believed in it--verily he seemed to
+believe in it. Was it not so, neighbour Obstinate?" enquired Pliable,
+stroking his leg.
+
+"Believed in what, my friend?" said Obstinate, in a dull voice.
+
+"About Mount Zion, and the Crowns of Glory, and the Harps of Gold, and
+such like," said Pliable uneasily--"at least, it is said so; so 'tis said."
+
+"Believed!" retorted a smooth young man who seemed to feel the heat,
+and sat by the staircase door. "That's an easy task--to believe, sir.
+Ask any pretty minikin!"
+
+"And I'd make bold to enquire of yonder Liveloose," said a thick,
+monotonous voice (a Mr. Dull's, so Reverie informed me), "if mebbe he
+be referring to one of his own, or that fellow Sloth's devilish fairy
+tales? I know one yet he'll eat again some day."
+
+At which remark all laughed consumedly, save Dull.
+
+"Well, one thing Christian had, and none can deny it," said Pliable, a
+little hotly, "and that was Imagination? _I_ shan't forget the tales
+he was wont to tell: what say you, Superstition?"
+
+Mr. Superstition lifted dark, rather vacant eyes on Pliable. "Yes,
+yes," he said: "Flame, and sigh, and lamentation. My God, my God,
+gentlemen!"
+
+"Oo-ay, Oo-ay," yelped the voice of Mistrust, startled out of silence.
+
+"Oo-ay," whistled Malice, under his breath.
+
+"Tush, tush!" broke in Obstinate again, and snapped his fingers in the
+air. "And what is this precious Imagination? Whither doth it conduct a
+man, but to beggary, infamy, and the mad-house? Look ye to it, friend
+Pliable! 'Tis a devouring flame; give it but wind and leisure, the
+fairest house is ashes."
+
+"Ashes; ashes!" mocked one called Cruelty, who had more than once
+taken my attention with his peculiar contortions--"talking of ashes,
+what of Love-the-log Faithful, Master Tongue-stump? What of
+Love-the-log Faithful?"
+
+At which Liveloose was so extremely amused, the tears stood in his
+eyes for laughing.
+
+I looked round for Mistrust, and easily recognised my friend by his
+hare-like face, and the rage in his little active eyes. But
+unfortunately, as I turned to enquire somewhat of Reverie, Liveloose
+suddenly paused in his merriment with open mouth; and the whole
+company heard my question, "But who was Love-the-log Faithful?"
+
+I was at once again the centre of attention, and Mr. Obstinate rose
+very laboriously from his settle and held out a great hand to me.
+
+"I'm pleased to meet thee," he said, with a heavy bow. "There's a dear
+heart with my good neighbour Superstition yonder who will present a
+very fair account of that misguided young man. Madam Wanton, here's a
+young gentleman that never heard tell of our old friend Love-the-log."
+
+A shrill peal of laughter greeted this sally.
+
+"Why, Faithful was a young gentleman, sir," explained the woman
+civilly enough, "who preferred his supper hot."
+
+"Oh, Madam Wanton, my dear, my dear!" cried a long-nosed woman nearly
+helpless with amusement.
+
+I saw Superstition gazing darkly at me. He shook his head as I was
+about to reply, so I changed my retort. "Who, then, was Mr.
+Christian?" I enquired simply.
+
+At that the house shook with the roar of laughter that went up.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+    ... _Large draughts of intellectual day._
+
+    --RICHARD CRASHAW.
+
+
+"Believe me, neighbours," said Malice softly, when this uproar was a
+little abated, "there is nought so strange in the question. It meaneth
+only that this young gentleman hath not enjoyed the pleasure of your
+company before. Will it amaze you to learn, my friends, that Christian
+is like to be immortal only because you _talk_ him out of the grave?
+One brief epitaph, gentlemen, would let him rot."
+
+"Nay, but I'll tell the gentleman who Christian was, and with
+pleasure," cried a lucid, rather sallow little man that had sat
+quietly smiling and listening. "My name, let me tell you, is Atheist,
+sir; and Christian was formerly a very near neighbour of an old friend
+of my family's--Mr. Sceptic. They lived, sir--at least in those
+days--opposite to one another."
+
+"He is a great talker," whispered Reverie in my ear. But the company
+evidently found his talk to their taste. They sat as still and
+attentive around him, as though before an extemporary preacher.
+
+"Well, sir," continued Atheist, "being, in a sense, neighbours,
+Christian in his youth would often confide in my friend; though,
+assuredly, Sceptic never sought his confidences. And it seemeth he
+began to be perturbed and troubled over the discovery that it is
+impossible--at least in this plain world--to eat your cake, yet have
+it. And by some ill chance he happened at this time on a mouldy old
+folio in my friend's house that had been the property of his maternal
+grandmother--the subtlest old tome you ever set eyes on, though
+somewhat too dark and extravagant and heady for a sober man of the
+world like me. 'Twas called the Bible, sir--a collection of legends
+and fables of all times, tongues, and countries threaded together,
+mighty ingeniously I grant, and in as plausible a style as any I
+know, if a little lax and flowery in parts.
+
+"Well, Christian borroweth the book of my friend--never to return it.
+And being feeble and credulous, partly by reason of his simple wits,
+and partly by reason of the sad condition a froward youth had reduced
+him to, he accepts the whole book--from Apple to Vials--for truth. In
+fact, 'he ate the little book,' as one of the legendary kings it
+celebrates had done before him."
+
+"Ay," broke in Cruelty wildly, "and has ever since gotten the gripes."
+
+Atheist inclined his head. "Putting it coarsely, gentlemen, such was
+the case," he said. "And away at his wit's end he hasteneth, waning
+and shivering, to a great bog or quagmire--that my friend Pliable will
+answer to--and plungeth in. 'Tis the same story repeated. He could be
+temperate in nought. _I_ knew the bog well; but I knew the
+stepping-stones better. Believe me, I have traversed the narrow way
+this same Christian took, seeking the harps and pearls and the _elixir
+vitæ_, these many years past. The book inciteth ye to it. It sets a
+man's heart on fire--that's weak enough to read it--with its pomp, and
+rhetoric, and far-away promises, and lofty counsels. Oh, fine words,
+who is not their puppet! I climbed 'Difficulty.' I snapped my fingers
+at the grinning Lions. I passed cautiously through the 'Valley of the
+Shadow'--wild scenery, sir! I visited that prince of bubbles also,
+Giant Despair, in his draughty castle. And--though boasting be far
+from me!--fetched Liveloose's half-brother out of a certain
+charnel-house near by.
+
+"_Thus far_, sir, I went. But I have not yet found the world so barren
+of literature as to write a book about it. I have not yet found the
+world so barren of ingratitude as to seek happiness by stabbing in the
+back every friend I ever had. I have not yet forsaken wife and
+children; neighbours and kinsmen; home, ease, and tenderness, for a
+whim, a dream, a passing qualm. No, sir; 'tis this Christian's
+ignorant hardness-of-heart that is his bane. Knowing little, he
+prateth much. He would pinch and contract the Universe to his own
+fantastical pattern. He is tedious, he is pragmatical, and--I affirm
+it in all sympathy and sorrow--he is crazed. Malice, haply, is a
+little sharp at times. And neighbour Obstinate dealeth full weight
+with his opinions. But this Christian Flown-to-Glory, as the urchins
+say, pinks with a bludgeon. He cannot endure an honest doubt. He
+distorteth a mere difference of opinion into a roaring Tophet. And
+because he is helpless, solitary, despised in the world; because he is
+impotent to refute, and too stubborn to hear and suffer people a
+little higher and weightier, a leetle wiser than he--why, beyond the
+grave he must set his hope in vengeance. Beyond the grave--bliss for
+his own shade; fire and brimstone, eternal woe for theirs. Ay, and
+'tis not but for a season will he vex us, but for ever, and for ever,
+and for ever--if he knoweth in the least what he meaneth by the
+phrase. And this he calls 'Charity.'
+
+"Yes, sirs, beyond the grave he would condemn us, beyond the grave--a
+place of peace whereto I deem there are not many here but will be
+content at length to come; and I not least content, when my duty is
+done, my children provided for, and my last suspicion of fear and
+folly suppressed.
+
+"To conclude, sir--and beshrew me, gentlemen, how time doth fly in
+talk!--this Christian goeth his way. We, each in accord with his
+caprice and conscience, go ours. We envy him not his vapours, his
+terrors, or his shameless greed of reward. Why, then, doth he envy us
+our wealth, our success, our gaiety, our content? He raves. He is
+haunted. What is man but as grass, and the flower of grass? Come the
+sickle, he is clean gone. I can but repeat it, sir, our poor neighbour
+was crazed: 'tis Christian in a word."
+
+A sigh, a murmur of satisfaction and relief, rose from the company, as
+if one and all had escaped by Mr. Atheist's lucidity out of a very
+real peril.
+
+I thanked him for his courtesy, and in some confusion turned to
+Reverie with the remark that I thought I now recollected to have heard
+Christian's name, but understood he had indeed arrived, at last, at
+the Celestial City for which he had set out.
+
+"Celestial twaddle, sir!" cried Mr. Obstinate hoarsely. "He went
+stark, staring mad, and now is dust, as we shall soon all be, that's
+certain."
+
+Then Cruelty rose out of his chair and elbowed his way to the door. He
+opened it and looked out.
+
+"I would," he said, "I had known of this Christian before he started.
+Step you down to Vanity Fair, Sir Stranger, if the mood take you; and
+we'll show you as pretty a persuasion against pilgrimage as ever you
+saw." He opened his mouth where he stood between me and the stars.
+"... There's many more!" he added with difficulty, as if his rage was
+too much for him. He spat into the air and went out.
+
+Presently after Liveloose rose up, smiling softly, and groped after
+him.
+
+A little silence followed their departure.
+
+"You must tell your friend, Mr. Reverie," said Atheist
+good-humouredly, "that Mr. Cruelty says more than he means. To my mind
+he is mistaken--too energetic; but his intentions are good."
+
+"He's a staunch, dependable fellow," said Obstinate, patting down the
+wide cuffs he wore.
+
+But even at that moment a stranger softly entered the inn out of the
+night. His face was of the grey of ashes, and he looked once round on
+us all with a still, appalling glance that silenced the words on my
+lips.
+
+We sat without speech--Obstinate yawning, Atheist smiling lightly,
+Superstition nibbling his nails, Reverie with chin drawn a little
+back, Pliable bolt upright, like a green and white wand, Mistrust
+blinking his little thin lids; but all with eyes fixed on this
+stranger, who deemed himself, it seemed, among friends.
+
+He turned his back on us and sipped his drink under the heedless,
+deep, untroubled gaze of Mrs. Nature, and passed out softly and
+harmlessly as he had come in.
+
+Reverie stood up like a man surprised and ill at ease. He turned to
+me. "I know him only by repute, by hearsay," he said with an effort.
+"He is a stranger to us all, indeed, sir--to all."
+
+Obstinate, with a very flushed face, thrust his hand into his
+breeches' pocket. "Nay, sir," he said, "my purse is yet here. What
+more would you have?"
+
+At which Pliable laughed, turning to the women.
+
+I put on my hat and followed Reverie to the door.
+
+"Excuse me, sir," I said, "but I have no desire to stay in this house
+over-night. And if you would kindly direct me to the nearest way out
+of the village, I will have my horse saddled now and be off."
+
+And then I noticed that Superstition stood in the light of the doorway
+looking down on us.
+
+"There's Christian's way," he said, as if involuntarily....
+
+"Lodge with me to-night," Reverie answered, "and in the morning you
+shall choose which way to go you will."
+
+I thanked him heartily and turned in to find Rosinante.
+
+The night was now fine, but moist and sultry, and misty in the
+distance. It was late, too, for few candles gleamed beneath the
+moonlight from the windows round about the smooth village-green. Even
+as we set out, I leading Rosinante by her bridle, and Superstition on
+my left hand, out of heavenly Leo a bright star wheeled, fading as it
+fell. And soon high hedges hid utterly the "World's End" behind us,
+out of sight and sound.
+
+I observed when the trees had laid their burdened branches overhead,
+and the thick-flowered bushes begun to straiten our way, that this Mr.
+Superstition who had desired to accompany us was of a very different
+courage from that his manner at the inn seemed to profess.
+
+He walked with almost as much caution and ungainliness as Mistrust,
+his deep and shining eyes busily searching the gloom to left and right
+of him. Indeed, those same dark eyes of his reminded me not a little
+of Mrs. Nature's, they were so full of what they could not tell.
+
+He was on foot; my new friend Reverie, like myself, led his horse, a
+pale, lovely creature with delicate nostrils and deep-smouldering
+eyes.
+
+"You must think me very bold to force my company on you," said
+Superstition awkwardly, turning to Reverie, "but my house is never so
+mute with horror as in these moody summer nights when thunder is in
+the air. See there!" he cried.
+
+As if the distant sky had opened, the large, bright, harmless
+lightning quivered and was gone, revealing on the opposing hills
+forest above forest unutterably dark and still.
+
+"Surely," I said, "that is not the way Christian took?"
+
+"They say," Reverie answered, "the Valley of the Shadow of Death lies
+between those hills."
+
+"But Atheist," I said, "_that_ acid little man, did he indeed walk
+there alone?"
+
+"I have heard," muttered Superstition, putting out his hand, "'tis
+fear only that maketh afraid. Atheist has no fear."
+
+"But what of Cruelty," I said, "and Liveloose?"
+
+"Why," answered Superstition, "Cruelty works cunningest when he is
+afraid; and Liveloose never talks about himself. None the less there's
+not a tree but casts a shadow. I met once an earnest yet very popular
+young gentleman of the name of Science, who explained almost
+everything on earth to me so clearly, and patiently, and fatherly, I
+thought I should evermore sleep in peace. But we met at noon. Believe
+me, sir, I would have followed Christian and his friend Hopeful very
+willingly long since; for as for Cruelty and Obstinate and all that
+clumsy rabble, I heed them not. Indeed my cousin Mistrust _did_ go,
+and as you see returned with a caution; and a poor young school-fellow
+of mine, Jack Ignorance, came to an awful end. But it is because I owe
+partly to Christian and not all to myself this horrible solitude in
+which I walk that I dare not risk a deeper. It would be, I feel sure.
+And so I very willingly beheld Faithful burned; it restored my
+confidence. And here, sir," he added, almost with gaiety, "lives my
+friend Mrs. Simple, a widow. She enjoys my company and my old fables,
+and we keep the blinds down against these mountains, and candles
+burning against the brighter lightnings."
+
+So saying, Superstition bade us good-night and passed down a little
+by-lane on our left towards a country cottage, like a dreaming bower
+of roses beneath the moon.
+
+But Reverie and I continued on as if the moon herself as patiently
+pursued us. And by-and-by we came to a house called Gloom, whose
+gardens slope down with plashing fountains and glimmering banks of
+flowers into the shadow and stillness of a broad valley, named beneath
+the hills of Silence, Peace.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+    _His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
+    And be among her cloudy trophies hung._
+
+    --JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+Even as we entered the gates of Mr. Reverie's house beneath embowering
+chestnuts, there advanced across the moonlit spaces to meet us a
+figure on foot like ourselves, leading his horse. He was in armour,
+yet unarmed. His steel glittered cold and blue; his fingers hung
+ungauntleted; and on his pale face dwelt a look never happy warrior
+wore yet. He seemed a man Mars lends to Venus out of war to unhappy
+idleness. The disillusionment of age was in his face: yet he was
+youthful, I suppose; scarce older than Mercutio, and once, perhaps, as
+light of wit.
+
+He took my hand in a grasp cold and listless, and smiled from
+mirthless eyes.
+
+Yet there was something strangely taking in this solitary
+knight-at-arms. She for whom he does not fight, I thought, must have
+somewhat of the immortals to grace her warrior with. And if it were
+only shadows that beset him and obscured his finer heart, shadows they
+were of myrtle and rhododendron, with voices shrill and small as the
+sparrows', and eyes of the next-to-morning stars.
+
+Indeed, these gardens whispered, and the wind at play in the air
+seemed to bear far-away music, dying and falling.
+
+We entered the house and sat down to supper in a low room open to the
+night. Reverie recounted our evening's talk. "I wish," he said,
+turning to his friend, "you would accompany Mr. Brocken and me one
+night to the 'World's End' to hear these fellows talk. Such arrogance,
+such assurance, such bigotry and blindness and foxiness!--yet, on my
+word, a kind of gravity with it all, as if the scarecrows had some
+real interest in the devil's tares they guard. Come now, let it be a
+bargain between us, and leave this endless search awhile."
+
+But the solitary knight shook his head. "They would jeer me out of
+knowledge," he said. "Why, Reverie, the children cease their play
+when I pass, and draw their tops and marbles out of the dust, and gaze
+till I am hid from sight."
+
+"It is fancy, only fancy," replied Reverie; "children stare at all
+things new to them in the world. How else could they recognise and
+learn again--how else forget? But as for this rabble's mockery, there
+is a she-bear left called Oblivion which is their mistress, and will
+some day silence every jeer."
+
+The solitary knight shook his head again, eyeing me solemnly as if in
+hope to discern in my face the sorcery that held himself in thrall.
+
+The few wax tapers gave but light enough to find the way from goblet
+to mouth. As for Reverie's wine, I ask no other, for it had the
+poppy's scarlet, and overcame weariness so subtly I almost forgot
+these were the hours of sleep we spent in waking; forgot, too, as if
+of the lotus, all thought of effort and hope.
+
+After all, thought I as I sipped, effort is the flaw that proves men
+mortal; while as for hope, who would seek a seed that floats on every
+wind and smothers the world with weeds that bear no fruit? It was, in
+fact, fare very different from the ale and cheese of the "World's End."
+
+"But you yourself," I said to Mr. Reverie presently; "in all the talk
+at the inn you kept a very scrupulous silence--discreet enough, I own.
+But now, what truly _was_ this Christian of whom we heard so much? and
+why, may I ask, do his neighbours slander the dead? You yourselves,
+did you ever meet with him?" I turned from one to the other of my
+companions as they glanced uneasily each at each.
+
+"Well, sir," said Reverie rather deliberately, "I have met him and
+talked with him. I often think of him, in spite of myself. Yet he was
+a man of little charm. He certainly had a remarkable gift for
+estranging his friends. He was a foe to the most innocent compromise.
+For myself, I found not much humour in him, no eye for grace or art,
+and a limited imagination that was yet his absolute master.
+Nevertheless, as you hint, these fellows, no more than I, can forget
+him. Nor you?" He turned to the other.
+
+"Christian," he replied, "I remember him. We were friends a little
+while. Faithful I knew also. Faithful was to the last my friend. Ah!
+Reverie, then--how many years ago!--there was a child we loved, all
+three: do you remember? I see the low, green wall, cool from how many
+a summer's shadows, the clusters of green apples on the bough. And in
+the early morning we would go, carrying torn-off branches, and
+shouting our songs through the fields, till we came to the shadow and
+the hush of the woods. Ay, Reverie, and we would burst in on silence,
+each his heart beating, and play there. And perhaps it was Hopeful who
+would steal away from us, and the others play on; or perhaps you into
+the sunlight that maddened the sheltered bird to flit and sing in the
+orchard where the little child we loved played--not yet sad, but how
+much beloved; not yet weary of passing shadows, and simple creatures,
+and boy's rough gifts and cold hands. But I--with me it was ever
+evening, when the blackbird bursts harshly away. Then it was so still
+in the orchard, and in the curved bough so solitary, that the
+nightingale, cowering, would almost for fear begin to sing, and stoop
+to the bending of the bough, her sidelong eyes in shade; while the
+stars began to stand in the stations above us, ever bright, and all
+the night was peace. Then would I dream on--dream of the face I loved,
+Innocence, O Innocence!"
+
+It was a strange outburst. His voice rose almost to a chant, full of a
+forlorn music. But even as he ceased, we heard in the following
+silence, above the plashing of the restless fountains, beyond, far and
+faint, a wild and stranger music welling. And I saw from the porch
+that looks out from the house called Gloom, "La belle Dame sans Merci"
+pass riding with her train, who rides in beauty beneath the huntress,
+heedless of disguise. Across from far away, like leaves of autumn,
+skirred the dappled deer. The music grew, timbrel and pipe and tabor,
+as beneath the glances of the moon the little company sped, transient
+as a rainbow, elusive as a dream. I saw her maidens bound and
+sandalled, with all their everlasting flowers; and advancing
+soundless, unreal, the silver wheels of that unearthly chariot amid
+the Fauns. On, on they gamboled, hoof in yielding turf, blowing reed
+melodies, mocking water, their lips laid sidelong, their eyes aleer
+along the smoothness of their flutes.
+
+And when I turned again to my companions, with I know not what old
+folly in my eyes, I know not what unanswerable cry in my heart,
+Reverie alone was at my side. I seemed to see the long fringes of the
+lake, the sedge withered, the grey waters restless in the bonds of the
+wind, tuneless and chill; all these happy gardens swept bare and
+flowerless; and the far hills silent in the unattainable dawn.
+
+"She pipes, he follows," said Reverie; "she sets the tune, he dances.
+Yet, sir, on my soul, I believe it is the childish face of that same
+Innocence we kept tryst with long ago he pursues on and on, through
+what sad labyrinths we, who dream not so wildly, cannot by taking
+thought come to guess."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next two days passed serenely and quietly at Reverie's. We read
+together, rode, walked, and talked together, and listened in the
+evening to music. For a sister of Reverie's lived not far distant, who
+visited him while I was there, and took supper with us, delighting us
+with her wit and spirit and her youthful voice.
+
+But though Reverie more than once suggested it, I could not bring
+myself to return to the "World's End" and its garrulous company.
+Whether it was the moist, grey face of Mr. Cruelty I most abhorred, or
+Stubborn's slug-like eye, or the tongue-stump of my afflicted guide, I
+cannot say.
+
+Moreover, I had begun to feel a very keen curiosity to see the way
+that had lured Christian on with such graceless obstinacy. They had
+spoken of remorse, poverty, pride, world-failure, even insanity, even
+vice: but these appeared to me only such things as might fret a man to
+set violently out on, not to persist in such a course; or likelier
+yet, to abandon hope, to turn back from heights that trouble or
+confusion set so far, and made seem dreams.
+
+How could I help, too, being amused to think how vastly strange these
+fellows considered a man's venturing whither his star beckoned; though
+that star were only power, only fame, only beauty, only peace? What
+wonder they were many?
+
+Not far from this place, Reverie informed me, were pitched the booths
+of Vanity Fair. This, by his account, was a place one ought to visit,
+if only for the satisfaction of leaving it behind. But I have heard
+more animated accounts of it elsewhere.
+
+As for Reverie himself, he seemed only desirous to contemplate; never
+to taste, to win, or to handle. He needed but refuse reality to what
+shocked or teased him, to find it harmless and entertaining. He was a
+dreamer whom the heat and shout of battle could not offend.
+
+Perhaps he perceived my restlessness to be gone, for he himself
+suggested that I should stay till the next morning, and then, if I so
+pleased, he would see me a mile or two on my way.
+
+"For the Pitiless Lady," he said, smiling, "takes many disguises,
+sometimes of the sun, sometimes of evening, sometimes of night; and I
+would at least save you from the fate that has made my poor friend a
+phantom before he is a shade."
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+    _The many men, so beautiful!
+    And they all dead did lie._
+
+    --S.T. Coleridge.
+
+
+So Reverie, as he had promised, rode out with me a few miles to see me
+on my way. Above the gloom and stillness of the valley the scene began
+to change again. I was glad as I could be to view once more the
+tossing cornfields and the wind at play with shadow. Near and far,
+woods and pastures smoked beneath the sun. I know not through how many
+arches of the elms and green folds of the meadows I kept watch on the
+chimneys of a farmhouse above its trees.
+
+But Reverie, the further we journeyed, the less he said. I almost
+chafed to see his heedless eyes turned upon some inward dream, while
+here, like life itself, stood cloud and oak, warbled bird and brook
+beneath the burning sun. I saw again in memory the silver twilight of
+the moon, and the crazy face of Love's Warrior, haunter of shade. Let
+him but venture into the open, I thought, hear again the distant
+lowing of the oxen, the rooks cawing in the elms, see again the flocks
+upon the hillside!
+
+I suppose this was her home my heart had turned to. This was my dust;
+night's was his. For me the wild rose and the fields of harvest; for
+him closed petals, the chantry of the night wind, phantom lutes and
+voices. And, as if he had overheard my thoughts, Reverie turned at the
+cross-ways.
+
+"You will come back again," he said. "They tell me in distant lands
+men worship Time, set up a shrine to him in every street, and treasure
+his emblem next their hearts. There, they say, even the lover babbles
+of hours, and the dreamer measures sleep with a pendulum. Well, my
+house is secluded, and the world is far; and to me Time is naught.
+Return, sir, then, when it pleases you. Besides," he added, smiling
+faintly, "there is always company at the World's End."
+
+The crisp sunbeams rained upon his pale and delicate horse, its
+equal-plaited mane, on the darkness of his cloak, that dream-delighted
+face. Here smouldered gold, here flushed crimson, and here the curved
+damaskening of his bridle glistened and gleamed. He was a strange
+visitant to the open day, between the green hedges, beneath the
+enormous branching of the elms. And there I bade him farewell.
+
+Some day, perhaps, I shall return as he has foretold, for it is ever
+easy to find again the house of Reverie--to them who have learned the
+way.
+
+On I journeyed, then, following as I had been directed the main road
+to Vanity Fair. But whether it is that the Fair is more difficult to
+arrive at than to depart from, or is really a hard day's journey even
+from the gay parlour of the World's End, it already began to be
+evening, and yet no sign of bunting or booth or clamour or smoke.
+
+And it was at length to a noiseless Fair, far from all vanity, that I
+came at sunset--the cypresses of a solitary graveyard. I was tired out
+and desired only rest; so dismounting and leading Rosinante, I turned
+aside willingly into its peace.
+
+It seemed I had entered a new earth. The lane above had wandered on in
+the gloaming of its hedges and over-arching trees. Here, all the
+clouds of sunset stood, caught up in burning gold. Even as I paused,
+dazzled a moment by the sudden radiance, from height to height the
+wild bright rose of evening ran. Not a tottering stone, black,
+well-nigh shapeless with age, not a green bush, but seemed to dwell
+unconsumed in its own fire above this desolate ground. The trees that
+grew around me--willow and yew, thorn and poplar--were but flaming
+cages for the wild birds that perched in their branches.
+
+Above these sound-dulled mansions trod lightly, as if of thought,
+Rosinante's gilded shoes. I wandered on in a strange elation of mind,
+filled with a desperate desire ever to remember how flamed this rose
+between earth and sky, how throbbed this jargon of delight. And
+turning as if in hope to share my enthusiasm, a childish peal of
+laughter showed me I was not alone.
+
+Beneath a canopy of holly branches and yew two children sat playing.
+The nearer child's hair was golden, glistening round his face of
+roses, and he it was who had laughed, tumbling on the sward. But the
+face of the further child was white almost as crystal, and the dark
+hair that encircled his head with its curved lines seemed as it were
+the shadow of the gold it showed beside. These children, it was plain,
+had been running and playing across the tombs; but now they were
+stooping together at some earnest sport. To me, even if they had seen
+me, they as yet paid no heed.
+
+I passed slowly towards them, deeming them at first of solitude's
+creation, my eyes dazzled so with the sun. But as I approached, so the
+branches beneath which they played gradually disparted, and I saw not
+far distant from them one sitting who evidently had these jocund boys
+in charge.
+
+I could not but hesitate awhile as I surveyed them. These were no
+mortal children playing naked amid the rose of evening: nor she who
+sat veiled and beautiful beneath the ruinous tombs. I turned with
+sudden dismay to depart from their presence unobserved as I had
+entered; but the children had now espied me, and came running, filled
+with wonder of Rosinante and the stranger beside her.
+
+They stayed at a little distance from us with dwelling eyes and parted
+lips. Then the fairer and, as it seemed to me, elder of the brothers
+stooped and plucked a few blades of grass and proffered them, half
+fearfully, to the beast that amazed him. But the other gave less heed
+to Rosinante, fixed the filmy lustre of his eyes on me, his wonderful
+young face veiled with that wisdom which is in all children, and of an
+immutable gravity.
+
+But by this time, she who it seemed had the charge of these children
+had followed them with her eyes. To her then, leaving Rosinante in an
+ecstasy of timidity before such god-like boys, I addressed myself.
+
+So might a traveller lost beneath strange stars address unanswering
+Night. She, however, raised a compassionate face to me and listened
+with happy seriousness as to a child returned in safety at evening
+from some foolhardy venture. Yet there seemed only a deeper
+youthfulness in her face for all its eternity of brooding on her
+beauteous children. Narrow leaves of olive formed her chaplet. The
+darker wine-colours of the sea changed in her eyes. There was no sense
+of gloom or sorrowfulness in her company. I began to see how the same
+still breast might bear celestial children so diverse as these, whose
+names, she told me presently, were Sleep and Death.
+
+I looked at the two children at play, "Ah! now," I said, almost
+involuntarily "the golden boy who has caught my horse's bridle in his
+hand, is not he Sleep? and he who considers his brother's
+boldness--that one is Death?"
+
+She smiled with lovely vanity, and told me how strange of heart young
+children are. How they will alter and vary, never the same for long
+together, but led by indiscoverable caprices and obedient to some
+further will. She smiled and said how that sometimes, when the birds
+hush suddenly from song, Sleep would creep tenderly and sadly to her
+knees, and Death clasp her roguishly, as if in some secret with the
+beams of morning. So would they change, one to the likeness of the
+other. But Sleep was, perhaps, of the gentler disposition; a little
+obstinate and headstrong; at times, indeed, beyond all cajolery; yet
+very sweet of impulse and ardent to make amends. But Death's caprices
+baffled even her. He seemed now so pitiless and unlovely of heart; and
+now, as if possessed, passionate and swift; and now would break away
+burning from her arms in an infinite tenderness.
+
+But best she loved them when there came a transient peace to both; and
+looking upon them laid embraced in the shadow-casting moonbeam, not
+even she could undoubtingly touch the brow of each beneath their
+likened hair, and say this is the elder, and this the dreamless
+younger of the boys.
+
+Seeing, too, my eyes cast upon the undecipherable letters of the tomb
+by which we sat, she told me how that once, near before dawn, she had
+awoke in the twilight to find their places empty where the children
+had lain at her side, and had sought on, at last to find them even
+here, weeping and quarrelling, and red with anger. Little by little,
+and with many tears, she had gleaned the cause of their quarrel--how
+that, like very children, they had run a race at cockcrow, and all
+these stones and the slender bones and ashes beneath to be the prize;
+and how that, running, both had come together to the goal set, and
+both had claimed the victory.
+
+"Yet both seem happy now to share it," I said, "or how else were they
+comforted?" Nor did I consider before she told me that they will run
+again when they be grown men, Sleep and Death, in just such a thick
+darkness before dawn; and one called Love will then run with them, who
+is very vehement and fleet of foot, and never turns aside, nor
+falters. He who then shall win may ask a different prize. For truth to
+tell, she said, only children can find delight for long in dust and
+ruin.
+
+At that moment Death himself came hastening to his mother, and, taking
+her hand, turned to the enormous picture of the skies as if in some
+faint apprehension. But Sleep saw nothing amiss, lay at full length
+among the "cool-rooted flowers," while Rosinante grazed beside him.
+
+I told her also, in turn, of my journey; and that although transient,
+or everlasting, solace of all restlessness and sorrow and too-wild
+happiness may be found in them, yet men think not often on these
+divine children.
+
+"As for this one," I said, looking down into the pathless beauty of
+Death's grey eyes, "some fear, some mock, some despise him; some
+violently, some without complaint pursue; most men would altogether
+dismiss, and forget him. He is but a child, no older than the sea, no
+stranger than the mountains, pure and cold as the water-springs. Yet
+to the bolster of fever his vision flits; and pain drags a heavy net
+to snare him; and silence is his echoing gallery; and the gold of
+Sleep his final veil. They shall play on; and see, lady, flame has
+left the clouds; the birds are at rest. The earth breathes in, and it
+is day; and exhales her breath, and it is night. Let them then play
+secret and innocent between her breasts, comfort her with silence
+above the tempest of her heart.... But I!--what am I?--a traveller,
+footsore and far."
+
+And then it was that I became conscious of a warm, sly, youthful hand
+in mine, and turned, half in dread, to see only happy Sleep laughing
+under his glistening hair into my eyes. I strove in vain against his
+sorcery; rolled foolish orbs on that pure, starry face; and then I
+smelled as it were rain, and heard as it were tempestuous
+forest-trees--fell asleep among the tombs.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+    _I warmed both hands before the fire of life._
+
+    --WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+
+
+Surely some hueless poppy blossomed in the darkness of those ruins, or
+the soulless ashes of the dead breathe out a drowsy influence. Never
+have I slept so heavily, yet never perhaps beneath so cold a tester.
+Sunbeams streaming between the crests of the cypresses awoke me. I
+leapt up as if a hundred sentinels had shouted--where none kept
+visible watch.
+
+An odour of a languid sweetness pervaded the air. There was no wind to
+stir the dew-besprinkled trees. The old, scarred gravestones stood in
+a thick sunshine, afloat with bees. But Rosinante had preferred to
+survey sunshine out of shade. In lush grass I found her, the picture
+of age, foot crook'd, and head dejected.
+
+Yet she followed me uncomplaining along these narrow avenues of
+silence, and without more ado turned her trivial tail on Death and his
+dim flocks, and well-nigh scampered me off into the vivid morning.
+Soon afterwards, with Hunger in the saddle, we began to climb a road
+almost precipitous, and stony in the extreme. Often enough we breathed
+ourselves as best we could in the still, sultry air, and rested on the
+sun-dappled slopes. But at length we came out upon the crest, and
+surveyed in the first splendour of day a region of extraordinary
+grandeur.
+
+Beneath a clear sky to the east stood a range of mountains, cold and
+changeless beneath their snows. At my feet a great river flowed,
+broken here and there with isles in the bright flood. The dark
+champaign that flanked its shores was of an unusual verdure. Mystery
+and peril brooded on those distant ravines, the vapours of their
+far-descending cataracts. In such abysmal fastnesses as these the
+Hyrcan tiger might hide his surly generations. This was an air for the
+sun-disdaining eagle, a country of transcendent brightness, its
+flowers strangely pure and perfect, its waters more limpid, its
+grazing herds, its birds, its cedar trees, the masters of their kind.
+
+Yet not on these nearer glories my eyes found rest. But, with a kind
+of heartache, I gazed, as it were towards home, upon the distant
+waters of the sea. Here, on the crest of this green hill, was silence.
+There, too, was profounder silence on the sea's untrampled floor.
+Whence comes that angel out of nought whispering into the ear strange
+syllables? I know not; but so seemed I to stand--a shattered
+instrument in the world, past all true music, o'er which none the less
+the invisible lute-master stooped. Could I but catch, could I but in
+words express the music his bent fingers intended, the mystery, the
+peace--well; then I should indeed journey solitary on the face of the
+earth, a changeling in its cities.
+
+I half feared to descend into a country so diverse from any I had yet
+seen. Hitherto at least I had encountered little else than
+friendliness. But here--doves in eyries! I stood, twisting my fingers
+in Rosinante's mane, debating and debating. And she turned her face to
+me, and looked with age into my eyes: and I know not how woke courage
+in me again.
+
+"On then?" I said, on the height. And the gentle beast leaned forward
+and coughed into the valley what might indeed be "Yea!"
+
+So we began to descend. Down we went, alone, yet not unhappy, until in
+a while I discovered, about a hundred yards in advance of me, another
+traveller on the road, ambling easily along at an equal pace with
+mine. I know not how far I followed in his track debating whether to
+overtake and to accost him, or to follow on till a more favourable
+chance offered.
+
+But Chance--avenger of all shilly-shally--settled the matter offhand.
+For my traveller, after casting one comprehensive glance towards the
+skies, suddenly whisked off at a canter that quickly carried him out
+of sight.
+
+A chill wind had begun to blow, lifting in gusts dust into the air and
+whitening the tree-tops. As suddenly, calm succeeded. A cloud of
+flies droned fretfully about my ears. And I watched advancing,
+league-high, transfigured with sunbeams, the enormous gloom of storm.
+The sun smote from a silvery haze upon its peaks and gorges. Wind, far
+above the earth, moaned, and fell; only to sound once more in the
+distance in a mournful trumpeting. Lightnings played along the
+desolate hills. The sun was darkened. A vast flight of snowy,
+arrow-winged birds streamed voiceless beneath his place. And day
+withdrew its boundaries, spread to the nearer forests a bright
+amphitheatre, fitful with light, whereof it seemed to me Rosinante
+with her poor burden was the centre and the butt. I confess I began to
+dread lest even my mere surmise of danger should engage the piercing
+lightnings; as if in the mystery of life storm and a timorous thought
+might yet be of a kin.
+
+We hastened on at the most pathetic of gallops. Nor seemed indeed the
+beauteous lightning to regard at all that restless mote upon the
+cirque of its entranced fairness. In an instantaneous silence I heard
+a tiny beat of hoofs; in instantaneous gloom recognised almost with
+astonishment my own shape bowed upon the saddle. It was a majestic
+entry into a kingdom so far-famed.
+
+The storm showed no abatement when at last I found shelter. From far
+away I had espied in the immeasurable glare a country barn beneath
+trees. Arrived there, I almost fell off my horse into as incongruous
+and lighthearted a company as ever was seen.
+
+In the midst of the floor of the barn, upon a heap of hay, sat a fool
+in motley blowing with all his wind into a pipe. It was a cunning tune
+he played too, rich and heady. And so seemed the company to find it,
+dancers--some thirty or more--capering round him with all the abandon
+heart can feel and heel can answer to. As for pose, he whose horse now
+stood smoking beside my own first drew my attention--a smooth,
+small-bearded, solemn man, a little beyond his prime. He lifted his
+toes with such inimitable agility, postured his fingers so daintily,
+conducted his melon-belly with so much elegance, and exhaled such a
+warm joy in the sport that I could look at nothing else at first for
+delight in him.
+
+But there were slim maids too among the plumper and ruddier, like
+crocuses, like lilac, like whey, with all their fragrance and
+freshness and lightness. Such eyes adazzle dancing with mine, such
+nimble and discreet ankles, such gimp English middles, and such a gay
+delight in the mere grace of the lilting and tripping beneath rafters
+ringing loud with thunder, that Pan himself might skip across a
+hundred furrows for sheer envy to witness.
+
+As for the jolly rustics that were jogging their wits away with such
+delightful gravity, but little time was given me to admire them ere I
+also was snatched into the ring, and found brown eyes dwelling with
+mine, and a hand like lettuces in the dog-days. Round and about we
+skipped in the golden straw, amidst treasuries of hay, puffing and
+spinning. And the quiet lightnings quivered between the beams, and
+the monstrous "Ah!" of the thunder submerged the pipe's sweetness.
+Till at last all began to gasp and blow indeed, and the nodding Fool
+to sip, and sip, as if _in extremis_ over his mouthpiece. Then we
+rested awhile, with a medley of shrill laughter and guffaws, while the
+rain streamed lightning-lit upon the trees and tore the clouds to
+tatters.
+
+With some little circumstance my traveller picked his way to me, and
+with a grave civility bowed me a sort of general welcome. Whereupon
+ensued such wit and banter as made me thankful when the opening
+impudence of a kind of jig set the heels and the petticoats of the
+company tossing once more. We danced the lightning out, and piped the
+thunder from the skies. And by then I was so faint with fasting, and
+so deep in love with at least five young country faces, that I
+scarcely knew head from heels; still less, when a long draught of a
+kind of thin, sweet ale had mounted to its sphere.
+
+Away we all trooped over the flashing fields, noisy as jays in the
+fresh, sweet air, some to their mowing, some to their milking, but
+more, indeed, I truly suspect, to that exquisite _Nirvana_ from which
+the tempest's travail had aroused them. I waved my hand, striving in
+vain to keep my eyes on one blest, beguiling face of all that glanced
+behind them. But, she gone, I turned into the rainy lane once more
+with my new acquaintance, discreeter, but not less giddy, it seemed,
+than I.
+
+We had not far to go--past a meadow or two, a low green wall, a black
+fish-pool--and soon the tumbledown gables of a house came into view.
+My companion waved his open fingers at the crooked casements and
+peered into my face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "we will talk, we will talk, you and I: I view it in
+your eye, sir--clear and full and profound--such ever goes with
+eloquence. 'Tis my delight. What are we else than beasts?--beasts that
+perish? I never tire; I never weary;--give me to dance and to sing,
+but ever to talk: then am I at ease. Heaven is just. Enter,
+sir--enter!"
+
+He led me by a shady alley into his orchard, and thence to a stable,
+where we left Rosinante at hob-a-nob with his mare over a friendly
+bottle of hay. And we ourselves passed into the house, and ascended a
+staircase into an upper chamber. This chamber was raftered, its walls
+hung with an obscure tapestry, its floor strewn with sand, and its
+lozenged casement partly shuttered against the blaze of sunshine that
+flowed across the forests far away to the west.
+
+My friend eyed me brightly and busily as a starling. "You danced fine,
+sir," he said. "Oh! it is a _pleasure_ to me. Ay, and now I come to
+consider it, methought I did hear hoofs behind me that might yet be
+echo. No, but I did _not_ think: 'twas but my ear cried to his
+dreaming master. Ever dreaming; God help at last the awakening! But
+well met, well met, I say again. I am cheered. And you but just in
+time! Nay, I would not have missed him for a ransom. So--so--this leg,
+that leg; up now--hands over down we go! Lackaday, I am old bones for
+such freaks. Once!... '_Memento mori_!' say I, and smell the shower
+the sweeter for it. Be seated, sir, bench or stool, wheresoever you'd
+be. You're looking peaked. That burden rings in my skull like a
+bagpipe. Toot-a-tootie, toot-a-toot! Och, sad days!"
+
+We devoured our meal of cold meats and pickled fish, fruit and junket
+and a kind of harsh cheese, as if in contest for a wager. And copious
+was the thin spicy wine with which we swam it home. Ever and again my
+host would desist, to whistle, or croon (with a packed mouth) in the
+dismallest of tenors, a stave or two of the tune we had danced to,
+bobbing head and foot in sternest time. Then a great vacancy would
+overspread his face turned to the window, as suddenly to gather to a
+cheerful smile, and light, irradiated, once more on me. Then down
+would drop his chin over his plate, and away go finger and spoon among
+his victuals in a dance as brisk and whole-hearted as the other.
+
+He took me out again into his garden after supper, and we walked
+beneath the trees.
+
+"'Tis bliss to be a bachelor, sir," he said, gazing on the resinous
+trunk of an old damson tree. "I gorge, I guzzle; I am merry, am
+melancholy; studious, harmonical, drowsy,--and none to scold
+or deny me. For the rest, why, youth is vain: yet youth had
+pleasure--innocence and delight. I chew the cud of many a peaceful
+acre. Ay, I have nibbled roses in my time. But now, what now? I have
+lived so long far from courts and courtesy, grace and fashion, and am
+so much my own close and indifferent friend--Why! he is happy who has
+solitude for housemate, company for guest. I say it, I say it; I marry
+daily wives of memory's fashioning, and dream at peace."
+
+It seemed an old bone he picked with Destiny.
+
+"There's much to be said," I replied as profoundly as I could.
+
+The air he now lulled youth asleep with was a very cheerless
+threnody, but he brightened once more at praise of his delightful
+orchard.
+
+"You like it, sir? You speak kindly, sir. It is my all; root and
+branch: how many a summer's moons have I seen shine hereon! I know
+it--there is bliss to come;--miraculous Paradise for men even dull as
+I. Yet 'twill be strange to me--without my house and orchard. Age
+tends to earth, sir, till even an odour may awake the dead--a branch
+in the air call with its fluttering a face beyond Time to vanquish
+dear. 'Soul, soul,' I cry, 'forget thy dust, forget thy vaunting
+ashes!'--and speak in vain. So's life!"
+
+And when we had gone in again, and candles had been lit in his fresh
+and narrow chamber, seeing a viol upon a chest, I begged a little
+music.
+
+He quite eagerly, with a boyish peal of laughter, complied; and sat
+down with a very solemn face, his brows uplifted, and sang between the
+candles to a pathetic air this doggerel:--
+
+    There's a dark tree and a sad tree,
+    Where sweet Alice waits, unheeded,
+    For her lover long-time absent,
+    Plucking rushes by the river.
+
+    Let the bird sing, let the buck sport,
+    Let the sun sink to his setting;
+    Not one star that stands in darkness
+    Shines upon her absent lover.
+
+    But his stone lies 'neath the dark tree,
+    Cold to bosom, deaf to weeping;
+    And 'tis gathering moss she touches,
+    Where the locks lay of her lover.
+
+"A dolesome thing," he said; "but my mother was wont to sing it to the
+virginals. 'Cold to bosom,'" he reiterated with a plangent cadence; "I
+remember them all, sir; from the cradle I had a gift for music." And
+then, with an ample flirt of his bow, he broke, all beams and smiles,
+into this ingenuous ditty:
+
+        The goodman said,
+        "'Tis time for bed,
+    Come, mistress, get us quick to pray;
+        Call in the maids
+        From out the glades
+      Where they with lovers stray,
+      With love, and love do stray."
+
+        "Nay, master mine,
+        The night is fine,
+    And time's enough all dark to pray;
+        'Tis April buds
+        Bedeck the woods
+      Where simple maids away
+      With love, and love do stray.
+
+        "Now we are old,
+        And nigh the mould,
+    'Tis meet on feeble knees to pray;
+        When once we'd roam,
+        'Twas else cried, 'Come,
+      And sigh the dusk away,
+      With love, and love to stray.'"
+
+        So they gat in
+        To pray till nine;
+    Then called, "Come maids, true maids, away!
+        Kiss and begone,
+        Ha' done, ha' done,
+      Until another day
+      With love, and love to stray!"
+
+        Oh, it were best
+        If so to rest
+    Went man and maid in peace away!
+        The throes a heart
+        May make to smart
+      Unless love have his way,
+      In April woods to stray!--
+
+      In April woods to stray!
+
+And that finished with another burst of laughter, he set very adroitly
+to the mimicry of beasts and birds upon his frets. Never have I seen
+a face so consummately the action's. His every fibre answered to the
+call; his eyebrows twitched like an orator's; his very nose was
+plastic.
+
+"Hst!" he cried softly; "hither struts chanticleer!"
+"Cock-a-diddle-doo!" crowed the wire. "Now, prithee, Dame Partlett!"
+and down bustled a hen from an egg like cinnamon. A cat with kittens
+mewed along the string, anxious and tender.
+
+"A woodpecker," he cried, directing momentarily a sedulous, clear eye
+on me. And lo, "inviolable quietness" and the smooth beech-boughs!
+"And thus," he said, sitting closer, "the martlets were wont to
+whimper about the walls of the castle of Inverness, the castle of
+Macbeth."
+
+"Macbeth!" I repeated--"Macbeth!"
+
+"Ay," he said, "it was his seat while yet a simple soldier--flocks and
+flocks of them, wheeling hither, thither, in the evening air, crying
+and calling."
+
+I listened in a kind of confusion. "... And Duncan," I said....
+
+He eyed me with immense pleasure, and nodded with brilliant eyes on
+mine.
+
+"What looking man was he?" I said at last as carelessly as I dared.
+"... The King, you mean,--of Scotland."
+
+He magnanimously ignored my confusion, and paused to build his
+sentence.
+
+"'Duncan'?" he said. "The question calls him straight to mind. A
+lean-locked, womanish countenance; sickly, yet never sick; timid, yet
+most obdurate; more sly than politic. An _ignis fatuus_, sir, in a
+world of soldiers." His eye wandered.... "'Twas a marvellous sanative
+air, crisp and pure; but for him, one draught and outer darkness. I
+myself viewed his royal entry from the gallery--pacing urbane to
+slaughter; and I uttered a sigh to see him. 'Why, sir, do you sigh to
+see the king?' cried one softly that stood by. 'I sigh, my lord,' I
+answered to the instant, 'at sight of a monarch even Duncan's match!'"
+
+He looked his wildest astonishment at me.
+
+"Not, I'd have you remember--not that 'twas blood I did foresee.... To
+kill in blood a man, and he a king, so near to natural death ...
+foul, foul!"
+
+"And Macbeth?" I said presently--"Macbeth...?"
+
+He laid down his viol with prolonged care.
+
+"His was a soul, sir, nobler than his fate. I followed him not without
+love from boyhood--a youth almost too fine of spirit; shrinking
+from all violence, over-nicely; eloquent, yet chary of speech,
+and of a dark profundity of thought. The questions he would
+patter!--unanswerable, searching earth and heaven through.... And who
+now was it told me the traitor Judas's hair was red?--yet not red his,
+but of a reddish chestnut, fine and bushy. Children have played their
+harmless hands at hide-and-seek therein. O sea of many winds!
+
+"For come gloom on the hills, floods, discolouring mist; breathe but
+some grandam's tale of darkness and blood and doubleness in his
+hearing: all changed. Flame kindled; a fevered unrest drove him out;
+and Ambition, that spotted hound of hell, strained at the leash
+towards the Pit.
+
+"So runs the world--the ardent and the lofty. We are beyond earth's
+story as 'tis told, sir. All's shallower than the heart of man....
+Indeed, 'twas one more shattered altar to Hymen."
+
+"'Hymen!'" I said.
+
+He brooded long and silently, clipping his small beard. And while he
+was so brooding, a mouse, a moth, dust--I know not what, stirred the
+listening strings of his viol to sound, and woke him with a start.
+
+"I vowed, sir, then, to dismiss all memory of such unhappy deeds from
+mind--never to speak again that broken lady's name. Oh! I have seen
+sad ends--pride abased, splendour dismantled, courage to terror come,
+guilt to a crying guilelessness."
+
+"'Guilelessness?'" I said. "Lady Macbeth at least was past all
+changing."
+
+The doctor stood up and cast a deep scrutiny on me, which yet,
+perhaps, was partly on himself.
+
+"Perceive, sir," he said, "this table--broader, longer, splendidly
+burdened; and all adown both sides the board, thanes and their
+ladies, lords, and gentlemen, guests bidden to a royal banquet. 'Twas
+then in that bleak and dismal country--the Palace of Forres. Torches
+flared in the hall; to every man a servant or two: we sat in pomp."
+
+He paused again, and gravely withdrew behind the tapestry.
+
+"And presently," he cried therefrom, suiting his action to the word,
+"to the blast of hautboys enters the king in state thus, with his
+attendant lords. And with all that rich and familiar courtesy of which
+he was master in his easier moods he passed from one to another,
+greeting with supple dignity on his way, till he came at last softly
+to the place prepared for him at table. And suddenly--shall I ever
+forget, it, sir?--it seemed silence ran like a flame from mouth to
+mouth as there he stood, thus, marble-still, his eyes fixed in a
+leaden glare. And he raised his face and looked once round on us all
+with a forlorn astonishment and wrath, like one with a death-wound--I
+never saw the like of such a face.
+
+"Whereat, beseeching us to be calm, and pay no heed, the queen laid
+her hand on his and called him. And his orbs rolled down once more
+upon the empty place, and stuck as if at grapple with some horror seen
+within. He muttered aloud in peevish altercation--once more to heave
+up his frame, to sigh and shake himself, and lo!--"
+
+The viol-strings rang to his "lo!"
+
+"Lo, sir, the Unseen had conquered. His lip sagged into his beard, he
+babbled with open mouth, and leaned on his lady with such an impotent
+and slavish regard as I hope never to see again man pay to woman....
+We thought no more of supper after that....
+
+"But what do I--?" The doctor laid a cautioning finger on his mouth.
+
+"The company was dispersed, the palace gloomy with night (and they
+were black nights at Forres!), and on the walls I heard the sentinel's
+replying.... In the wood's last glow I entered and stood in his
+self-same station before the empty stool. And even as I stood thus, my
+hair creeping, my will concentred, gazing with every cord at stretch,
+fell a light, light footfall behind me." He glanced whitely over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Sir, it was the queen come softly out of slumber on my own unquiet
+errand."
+
+The doctor strode to the door, and peered out like a man suspicious or
+guilty of treachery. It was indeed a house of broken silences. And
+there, in the doorway, he seemed to be addressing his own saddened
+conscience.
+
+"With all my skill, and all a leal man's gentleness, I solaced and
+persuaded, and made an oath, and conducted her back to her own chamber
+unperceived. How weak is sleep!... It was a habit, sir, contracted in
+childhood, long dormant, that Evil had woke again. The Past awaits us
+all. So run Time's sands, till mercy's globe is empty and ..."
+
+He stooped and whispered it across to me: "... A child, a comparative
+child, shrunk to an anatomy, her beauty changed, ghostly of youth and
+all its sadness, baffled by a word, slave to a doctor's nod! None
+knew but I, and, at the last, one of her ladies--a gentle, faithful,
+and fearful creature. Nor she till far beyond all mischief....
+
+"Wild deeds are done. But to have blood on the hands, a cry in the
+ears, and one same glassy face eye to eye, that nothing can dim, nor
+even slumber pacify--dreams, dreams, intangible, enorm! Forefend them,
+God, from me!"
+
+He stood a moment as if he were listening; then turned, smiling
+irresolutely, and eyed me aimlessly. He seemed afraid of his own
+house, askance at his own furniture. Yet, though I scarce know why, I
+felt he had not told me the whole truth. Something fidelity had yet
+withheld from vanity. I longed to enquire further. I put aside how
+many burning questions awhile!
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+    _And if we gang to sea, master,
+    I fear we'll come to harm._
+
+    --OLD BALLAD.
+
+
+By and by less anxious talk soothed him. Indeed it was he who
+suggested one last bright draught of air beneath his trees before
+retiring. Down we went again with some unnecessary clatter. And here
+were stars between the fruited boughs, silvery Capella and the Twins,
+and low on the sky's moonlit border Venus excellently bright.
+
+He asked me whither I proposed going, if I needs must go; besought
+there and then in the ambrosial night-air the history of my
+wanderings--a mere nine days' wonder; and told me how he himself much
+feared and hated the sea.
+
+He questioned me also with not a little subtilty (and double-dealing
+too, I fancied,) regarding my own country, and of things present, and
+things real. In fact nothing, I think, so much flattered his
+vanity--unless it was my wonder at Dame Partlett's clucking on his
+viol-strings--as to learn himself was famous even so far as to ages
+yet unborn. He gazed on the simple moon with limpid, amiable eyes, and
+caught my fingers in his.
+
+How, then, could I even so much as hint to enquire which century
+indeed was his, who had no need of any? How could I abash that kindly
+vanity of his by adding also that, however famous, he must needs be to
+all eternity--nameless?
+
+We conversed long and earnestly in the coolness. He very frankly
+counselled me not to venture unconducted further into this country.
+The land of Tragedy was broad. And though on this side it lay adjacent
+to the naïve and civil people of Comedy; on the further, in the shadow
+of those bleak, unfooted mountains, lurked unnatural horror and
+desolation, and cruelty beyond all telling.
+
+He very kindly offered me too, if I was indeed bent on seeking the
+sea, an old boat, still seaworthy, that lay in a creek in the river
+near by, from which he was wont to fish. As for Rosinante, he supposed
+a rest would be by no means unwelcome to so faithful a friend. He
+himself rode little, being indolent, and a happier host than guest;
+and when I returned here, she should be stuffed with dainties awaiting
+me.
+
+To this I cordially and gratefully agreed; and also even more
+cordially to remain with him the next day; and the next night after
+that to take my watery departure.
+
+So it was. And a courteous, versatile, and vivacious companion I found
+him. Rare tales he told me, too, of better days than these, and rarest
+of his own never-more-returning youth. He loved his childhood, talked
+on of it with an artless zeal, his eyes a nest of singing-birds. How
+contrite he was for spirit lost, and daring withheld, and hope
+discomfited! How simple and urbane concerning his present lowly
+demands on life, on love, and on futurity! All this, too, with such
+packed winks and mirth and mourning, that I truly said good-night for
+the second time to him with a rather melancholy warmth, since
+to-morrow ... who can face unmoved that viewless sphinx? Moreover, the
+sea is wide, has fishes in plenty, but never too many coraled grottoes
+once poor mariners.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+    _'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day._
+
+    --JOHN WEBSTER.
+
+
+On the stroke of two next morning the doctor conducted me down to the
+creek in the river-bank where he kept his boat. There was little light
+but of the stars in the sky; nothing stirring. She floated dim and
+monstrous on the softly-running water, a navy in germ, and could have
+sat without danger thirty men like me. We stood on the bank, side by
+side, eyeing her vacancy. And (I can answer for myself) night-thoughts
+rose up in us at sight of her. Was it indeed only wind in the reeds
+that sighed around us? only the restless water insistently whispering
+and calling? only of darkness were these forbidding shadows?
+
+I looked up sharply at the doctor from such pensive embroidery, and
+found him as far away as I. He nodded and smiled, and we shook hands
+on the bank in the thick mist.
+
+"There's biscuits and a little meat, wine, and fruit," he said in an
+undertone. "God be with you, sir! I sadly mistrust the future. ...
+'Tis ever my way, at parting."
+
+We said good-bye again, to the dream-cry of some little fluttering
+creature of the rushes. And well before dawn I was floating midstream,
+my friend a memory, Rosinante in clover, and my travels, so far as
+this brief narrative will tell, nearly ended.
+
+I saw nothing but a few long-haired, grazing cattle on my voyage, that
+eyed me but cursorily. I passed unmolested among the waterfowl,
+between the never-silent rushes, beneath a sky refreshed and sweetened
+with storm. The boat was enormously heavy and made slow progress. When
+too the tide began to flow I must needs push close in to the bank and
+await the ebb. But towards evening of the third day I began to
+approach the sea.
+
+I listened to the wailing of its long-winged gulls; snuffed with how
+broad-nostrilled a gusto that savour not even pinewoods can match,
+nor any wild flower disguise; and heard at last the sound that stirs
+beneath all music--the deep's loud-falling billow.
+
+I pushed ashore, climbed the sandy bank, and moored my boat to an ash
+tree at the waterside. And after scrambling some little distance over
+dunes yet warm with the sun, I came out at length, and stood like a
+Greek before the sea.
+
+Here my bright river disembogued in noise and foam. Far to either side
+of me stretched the faint gold horns of a bay; and beyond me, almost
+violet in the shadow of its waves, the shipless sea.
+
+I looked on the breaking water with a divided heart. Its light, salt
+airs, its solitary beauty, its illimitable reaches seemed tidings of a
+region I could remember only as one who, remembering that he has
+dreamed, remembers nothing more. Larks rose, singing, behind me. In a
+calm, golden light my eager river quarrelled with its peace. Here
+indeed was solitude!
+
+It was in searching sea and cliff for the least sign of life that I
+thought I descried on the furthest extremity of the nearer of the
+horns of the bay the spires and smouldering domes of a little city. If
+I gazed intently, they seemed to vanish away, yet still to shine above
+the azure if, raising my eyes, I looked again.
+
+So, caring not how far I must go so long as my path lay beside these
+breaking waters, I set out on the firm, white sands to prove this city
+the mirage I deemed it.
+
+What wonder, then, my senses fell asleep in that vast lullaby! And out
+of a daydream almost as deep as that in which I first set out, I was
+suddenly aroused by a light tapping sound, distinct and regular
+between the roaring breakers.
+
+I lifted my eyes to find the city I was seeking evanished away indeed.
+But nearer at hand a child was playing upon the beach, whose spade
+among the pebbles had caused the birdlike noise I had heard.
+
+So engrossed was she with her building in the sand that she had not
+heard me approaching. She laboured on at the margin of the cliff's
+shadow where the sea-birds cried, answering Echo in the rocks. So
+solitary and yet so intent, so sedate and yet so eager a little figure
+she seemed in the long motionlessness of the shore, by the dark
+heedlessness of the sea, I hesitated to disturb her.
+
+Who of all Time's children could this be playing uncompanioned by the
+sea? And at a little distance betwixt me and her in the softly-mounded
+sand her spade had already scrawled in large, ungainly capitals, the
+answer--"Annabel Lee." The little flounced black frock, the tresses of
+black hair, the small, beautiful dark face--this then was Annabel Lee;
+and that bright, phantom city I had seen--that was the vanishing
+mockery of her kingdom.
+
+I called her from where I stood--"Annabel Lee!" She lifted her head
+and shook back her hair, and gazed at me startled and intent. I went
+nearer.
+
+"You are a very lonely little girl," I said.
+
+"I am building in the sand," she answered.
+
+"A castle?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It was in dreams," she said, flushing darkly.
+
+"What kind of dream was it in then?"
+
+"Oh! I often dream it; and I build it in the sand. But there's never
+time: the sea comes back."
+
+"Was the tide quite high when you began?" I asked; for now it was low.
+
+"Just that much from the stones," she said; "I waited for it ever so
+long."
+
+"It has a long way to come yet," I said; "you will finish it _this_
+time, I dare say."
+
+She shook her head and lifted her spade.
+
+"Oh no; it is much bigger, more than twice. And I haven't the seaweed,
+or the shells, and it comes back very, very quickly."
+
+"But where is the little boy you play with down here by the sea?"
+
+She glanced at me swiftly and surely; and shook her head again.
+
+"He would help you."
+
+"He didn't in my dream," she said doubtfully. She raised long,
+stealthy eyes to mine, and spoke softly and deliberately. "Besides,
+there isn't any little boy."
+
+"None, Annabel Lee?" I said.
+
+"Why," she answered, "I have played here years and years and years,
+and there are only the gulls and terns and cormorants, and that!" She
+pointed with her spade towards the broken water.
+
+"You know all their names then?" I said.
+
+"Some I know," she answered with a little frown, and looked far out to
+sea. Then, turning her eyes, she gazed long at me, searchingly,
+forlornly on a stranger. "I am going home now," she said.
+
+I looked at the house of sand and smiled. But she shook her head once
+more.
+
+"It never _could_ be finished," she said firmly, "though I tried and
+tried, unless the sea would keep quite still just once all day,
+without going to and fro. And then," she added with a flash of
+anger--"then I would not build."
+
+"Well," said I, "when it is nearly finished, and the water washes up,
+and up, and washes it away, here is a flower that came from
+Fairyland. And that, dear heart, is none so far away."
+
+She took the purple flower I had plucked in Ennui's garden in her
+slim, cold hand.
+
+"It's amaranth," she said; and I have never seen so old a little look
+in a child's eyes.
+
+"And all the flowers' names too?" I said.
+
+She frowned again. "It's amaranth," she said, and ran off lightly and
+so deftly among the rocks and in the shadow that was advancing now
+even upon the foam of the sea, that she had vanished before I had time
+to deter, or to pursue her. I sought her awhile, until the dark rack
+of sunset obscured the light, and the sea's voice changed; then I
+desisted.
+
+It was useless to remain longer beneath the looming caves, among the
+stones of so inhospitable a shore. I was a stranger to the tides. And
+it was clear high-water would submerge the narrow sands whereon I
+stood.
+
+Yet I cannot describe how loth I was to leave to night's desolation
+the shapeless house of a child. What fate was this that had set her
+to such profitless labour on the uttermost shores of "Tragedy"? What
+history lay behind, past, or, as it were, never to come? What gladness
+too high for earth had nearly once been hers? Her sea-mound took
+strange shapes in the gloom--light foliage of stone, dark heaviness of
+granite, wherein rumour played of all that restless rustling; small
+cries, vast murmurings from those green meadows, old as night.
+
+I turned, even ran away, at last. I found my boat in the gloaming
+where I had left her, safe and sound, except that all the doctor's
+good things had been nosed and tumbled by some hungry beast in my
+absence. I stood and thought vacantly of Crusoe, and pig, and guns.
+But what use to delay? I got in.
+
+If it were true, as the excellent doctor had informed me, that seamen
+reported islands not far distant from these shores, chance might bear
+me blissfully to one of these. And if not true ... I turned a rather
+startled face to the water, and made haste not to think. Fortune
+pierces deep, and baits her hooks with sceptics. Away I went, bobbing
+mightily over the waves that leapt and wrestled where sea and river
+met. These safely navigated, I rowed the great creature straight
+forward across the sea, my face towards dwindling land, my prow to
+Scorpio.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+    _Art thou pale for weariness._
+
+    --PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+
+The constellations of summer wheeled above me; and thus between water
+and starry sky I tossed solitary in my boat. The faint lustre of the
+sultry night hung like a mist from heaven to earth. Far away above the
+countries I had left perhaps for ever, the quiet lightnings played
+innocently in the heights.
+
+I rowed steadily on, guiding myself by some much ruddier star on the
+horizon. The pale phosphorescence on the wave, the simple sounds as of
+fish stirring in the water--the beauty and wonder of Night's
+dwelling-place seemed beyond content of mortality.
+
+I leaned on my oars in the midst of the deep sea, and seemed to hear,
+as it were, the mighty shout of Space. Faint and enormous beams of
+light trembled through the sky. And once I surprised a shadow as of
+wings sweeping darkly across, star on to glittering star, shaking the
+air, stilling the sea with the cold dews of night.
+
+So rowing, so resting, I passed the mark of midnight. Weariness began
+to steal over me. Between sleep and wake I heard strange cries across
+the deep. The thin silver of the old moon ebbed into the east. A chill
+mist welled out of the water and shrouded me in faintest gloom.
+Wherefore, battling no more against such influences, I shipped my
+oars, made my prayer in the midst of this dark womb of Life, and
+screening myself as best I could from the airs that soon would be
+moving before dawn, I lay down in the bottom of the boat and fell
+asleep.
+
+I slept apparently without dream, and woke as it seemed to the sound
+of voices singing some old music of the sea. A scent of a fragrance
+unknown to me was eddying in the wind. I raised my head, and saw with
+eyes half-dazed with light an island of cypress and poplar, green and
+still above the pure glass of its encircling waters. Straight before
+me, beyond green-bearded rocks dripping with foam, a little stone
+house, or temple, with columns and balconies of marble, stood hushed
+upon the cliff by the waterside.
+
+All now was soundless. They that sang, whether Nereids or Sirens, had
+descended to dimmer courts. The seamews floated on the water; the
+white dove strutted on the ledge; only the nightingales sang on in the
+thick arbours.
+
+I pushed my boat between the rocks towards the island. Bright and
+burning though the beams of the sun were, here seemed everlasting
+shadow. And though at my gradual intrusion, at splash or grating of
+keel, the startled cormorant cried in the air, and with one cry woke
+many, yet here too seemed perpetual stillness.
+
+How could I know what eyes might not be regarding me from bowers as
+thick and secluded as these? Yet this seemed an isle in some vague
+fashion familiar to me. To these same watery steps of stone, to this
+same mooring-ring surely I had voyaged before in dream or other life?
+I glanced into the water and saw my own fantastic image beneath the
+reflected gloom of cypresses, and knew at least, though I a shadow
+might be, this also was an island in a sea of shadows. Far from all
+land its marbles might be reared, yet they were warm to my touch, and
+these were nightingales, and those strutting doves beneath the little
+arches.
+
+So very gradually, and glancing to and fro into these unstirring
+groves, I came presently to the entrance court of the solitary villa
+on the cliff-side. Here a thread-like fountain plashed in its basin,
+the one thing astir in this cool retreat. Here, too, grew orange
+trees, with their unripe fruit upon them.
+
+But I continued, and venturing out upon the terrace overlooking the
+sea, saw again with a kind of astonishment the doctor's green,
+unwieldy boat beneath me and the emerald of the nearer waters tossing
+above the yellow sands.
+
+Here I had sat awhile lost in ease when I heard a footstep approaching
+and the rhythmical rustling of drapery, and knew eyes were now
+regarding me that I feared, yet much desired to meet.
+
+"Oh me!" said a clear yet almost languid voice. "How comes any man so
+softly?"
+
+Turning, I looked in the face of one how long a shade!
+
+I strove in vain to hide my confusion. This lady only smiled the
+deeper out of her baffling eyes.
+
+"If you could guess," she said presently, "how my heart leapt in me,
+as if, poor creature, any oars of earth could bring it ease, you would
+think me indeed as desolate as I am. To hear the bird scream,
+Traveller! I hastened from the gardens as if the black ships of the
+Greeks were come to take me. But such is long ago. Tell me, now, is
+the world yet harsh with men and sad with women? Burns yet that
+madness mirth calls Life? or truly does the puny, busy-tongued race
+sleep at last, nodding no more at me?"
+
+I told as best I could how chance had fetched me; told, too, that
+earth was yet pestered with men, and heavenly with women. "And the
+madness mirth calls Life flickers yet," I said; "and the little race
+tosses on in nightmare."
+
+"Ah!" she replied, "so ever run travellers' tales. I too once trusted
+to seem indifferent. But you, if shadow deceives me not, may yet
+return: I, only to the shades whence earth draws me. Meanwhile," she
+said, looking softly at the fountain playing in the clear gloom
+beyond, "rest and grow weary again, for there flock more questions to
+my tongue than spines on the blackthorn. The gardens are green with
+flowers, Traveller; let us talk where rosemary blows."
+
+Following her, I thought of the mysterious beauty of her eyes, her
+pallor, her slimness, and that faint smile which hovered between
+ecstasy and indifference, and away went my mind to one whom the
+shrewdest and tenderest of my own countrymen called once Criseyde.
+
+She led me into a garden all of faint-hued flowers. There bloomed no
+scarlet here, nor blue, nor yellow; but white and lavender and purest
+purple. Here, also, like torches of the sun, stood poplars each by
+each in the windless air, and the impenetrable darkness of cypresses
+beneath them.
+
+Here too was a fountain whose waters leapt no more, mossy and
+time-worn. I could not but think of those other gardens of my
+journey--Jane's, Ennui's, Dianeme's; and yet none like this for the
+shingley murmur of the sea, and the calmness of morning.
+
+"But, surely," I said, "this must be very far from Troy."
+
+"Far indeed," she said.
+
+"Far also from the hollow ships."
+
+"Far also from the hollow ships," she replied.
+
+"Yet," said I, "in the country whence I come is a saying: Where the
+treasure is--"
+
+"Alack! _there_ gloats the miser!" said Criseyde; "but I, Traveller,
+have no treasure, only a patchwork memory, and that's a great grief."
+
+"Well, then, forget! Why try in vain?" I said.
+
+She smiled and seated herself, leaning a little forward, looking upon
+the ground.
+
+"Soothfastness _must_,"' she said very gravely, raising her long black
+eyebrows; "yet truly it must be a forlorn thing to be remembered by
+one who so lightly forgets. So then I say, to teach myself to be
+true--'Look now, Criseyde, yonder fine, many-hearted poplar--that is
+Paris; and all that bank of marriage-ivy--that is marriageable Helen,
+green and cold; and the waterless fountain--that truly is Diomed; and
+the faded flower that nods in shadow, why, that must be me, even me,
+Criseyde!'"
+
+"And this thick rosemary-bush that smells of exile, who, then, is
+that?" I said.
+
+She looked deep into the shadow of the cypresses. "That," she said, "I
+think I have forgot again."
+
+"But," I said, "Diomed, now, was he quite so silent--not one trickle
+of persuasion?"
+
+"Why," she said, "I think 'twas the fountain was Diomed: I know not.
+And as for persuasion; he was a man forked, vain, and absolute as all.
+Let the waterless stone be sudden Diomed--you will confuse my wits,
+Mariner; where, then, were I?" She smiled, stooping lower. "You have
+voyaged far?" she said.
+
+"From childhood to this side regret," I answered rather sadly.
+
+"'Tis a sad end to a sweet tale," she said, "were it but truly told.
+But yet, and yet, and yet--you may return, and life heals every, every
+wound. _I_ must look on the ground and make amends. 'Tis this same
+making amends men now call 'Purgatory,' they tell me."
+
+"'Amends,'" I said; "to whom? for what?"
+
+"Welaway," said she, with a narrow fork between her brows; "to most
+men and to all women, for being that Criseyde." She gazed half
+solemnly at some picture of reverie.
+
+"But which Criseyde?" I said. "She who was every wind's, or but one
+perfect summer's?"
+
+She glanced strangely at me. "Ask of the night that burns so many
+stars," she said. "All's done; all passes. Yet my poor busy Uncle
+Pandar had no such changes, nor Hector, nor ... Men change not: they
+love and love again--one same tune of a myriad verses."
+
+"All?" I said.
+
+She tossed lightly a little dust from her hand.
+
+"Nay--all," she replied; "but what is that to me? Mine only to see
+Charon on the wave pass light over and return. Man of the green world,
+prithee die not yet awhile! 'Tis dull being a shade. See these cold
+palms! Yet my heart beats on."
+
+"For what?" I said.
+
+Criseyde folded her hands and leaned her cheek sidelong upon the
+stone.
+
+"For what?" I repeated.
+
+"For what but idle questions?" she said; "for a traveller's vanity
+that deems looking love-boys into a woman's eyes her sweeter
+entertainment than all the heroes of Troy. Oh, for a house of nought
+to be at peace in! Oh, gooseish swan! Oh, brittle vows! Tell me,
+Voyager, is it not so?--that men are merely angry boys with beards;
+and women--repeat not, ye who know! Never yet set I these steadfast
+eyes on a man that would not steal the moon for taper--would she but
+come down." She turned an arch face to me: "And what is to be
+faithful?"
+
+"I?" said I--"'to be faithful?'"
+
+"It is," she said, "to rise and never set, O sun of utter weariness!
+It is to kindle and never be quenched, O fretting fire of midsummer!
+It is to be snared and always sing, O shrilling bird of dulness! It is
+to come, not go; smile, not sigh; wake, never sleep. Couldst _thou_
+love so many nots to a silk string?"
+
+"What, then, is to change,... to be fickle?" I said.
+
+"Ah! to be fickle," she said, "is showers after drought, seas after
+sand; to cry, unechoed; to be thirsty, the pitcher broken. And--ask
+now this pitiless darkness of the eyes!--to be remembered though
+Lethe flows between. Nay, you shall watch even hope away ere another
+comes like me to mope and sigh, and play at swords with Memory."
+
+She rose to her feet and drew her hands across her face, and smiling,
+sighed deeply. And I saw how inscrutable and lovely she must ever seem
+to eyes scornful of mean men's idolatries.
+
+"And you will embark again," she said softly; "and in how small a ship
+on seas so mighty! And whither next will fate entice you, to what new
+sorrows?"
+
+"Who knows?" I said. "And to what further peace?"
+
+She laughed lightly. "Speak not of mockeries," she said, and fell
+silent.
+
+She seemed to be thinking quickly and deeply; for even though I did
+not turn to her, I could see in imagination the restless sparkling of
+her eyes, the stillness of her ringless hands. Then suddenly she
+turned.
+
+"Stranger," she said, drawing her finger softly along the cold stone
+of the bench, "there yet remain a few bright hours to morning. Who
+knows, seeing that felicity is with the bold, did I cast off into the
+sea--who knows whereto I'd come! 'Tis but a little way to being
+happy--a touch of the hand, a lifting of the brows, a shuddering
+silence. Had I but man's courage! Yet this is a solitary place, and
+the gods are revengeful."
+
+I cannot say how artlessly ran that voice in this still garden, by
+some strange power persuading me on, turning all doubt aside, calming
+all suspicion.
+
+"There is honeycomb here, and the fruit is plenteous. Yes," she said,
+"and all travellers are violent men--catch and kill meat--that I know,
+however doleful. 'Tis but a little sigh from day to day in these cool
+gardens; and rest is welcome when the heart pines not. Listen, now; I
+will go down and you shall show me--did one have the wit to learn, and
+courage to remember--show me how sails your wonderful little ship;
+tell me, too, where on the sea's horizon to one in exile earth lies,
+with all its pleasant things--yet thinks so bitterly of a woman!"
+
+"Tell me," I said; "tell me but one thing of a thousand. Whom would
+_you_ seek, did a traveller direct you, and a boat were at your need?"
+
+She looked at me, pondering, weaving her webs about me, lulling doubt,
+and banishing fear.
+
+"One could not miss--a hero!" she said, flaming.
+
+"That, then, shall be our bargain," I replied with wrath at my own
+folly. "Tell me this precious hero's name, and though all the dogs of
+the underworld come to course me, you shall take my boat, and leave me
+here--only this hero's name, a pedlar's bargain!"
+
+She lowered her lids. "It must be Diomed," she said with the least
+sigh.
+
+"It must be," I said.
+
+"Nay, then, Antenor, or truly Thersites," she said happily, "the
+silver-tongued!"
+
+"Good-bye, then," I said.
+
+"Good-bye," she replied very gently. "Why, how could there be a vow
+between us? I go, and return. You await me--me, Criseyde, Traveller,
+the lonely-hearted. That is the little all, O much-surrendering
+Stranger! Would that long-ago were now--before all chaffering!"
+
+Again a thousand questions rose to my tongue. She looked sidelong at
+the dry fountain, and one and all fell silent.
+
+"It is harsh, endless labour beneath the burning sun; storms and
+whirlwinds go about the sea, and the deep heaves with monsters."
+
+"Oh, sweet danger!" she said, mocking me.
+
+I turned from her without a word, like an angry child, and made my way
+to the steps into the sea, pulled round my boat into a little haven
+beside them, and shewed her oars and tackle and tiller; all the toil,
+and peril, the wild chances."
+
+"Why," she cried, while I was yet full of the theme, "I will go then
+at once, and to-morrow Troy will come."
+
+I looked long at her in silence; her slim beauty, the answerless
+riddle of her eyes, the age-long subtilty of her mouth, and gave no
+more thought to all life else.
+
+Day was already waning. I filled the water-keg with fresh water, put
+fruit and honeycomb and a pillow of leaves into the boat, proffered a
+trembling hand, and led her down.
+
+The sun's beams slanted on the foamless sea, glowed in a flame of
+crimson on marble and rock and cypress. The birds sang endlessly on of
+evening, endlessly, too, it seemed to me, of dangers my heart had no
+surmise of.
+
+Criseyde turned from the dark green waves. "Truly, it is a solitary
+country; pathless," she said, "to one unpiloted;" and stood listening
+to the hollow voices of the water. And suddenly, as if at the
+consummation of her thoughts, she lifted her eyes on me, darkly, with
+unimaginable entreaty.
+
+"What do you seek else?" I cried in a voice I scarcely recognised.
+"Oh, you speak in riddles!"
+
+I sprang into the boat and seized the heavy oars. Something like
+laughter, or, as it were, the clapper of a scarer of birds, echoed
+among the rocks at the rattling of the rowlocks. As if invisible hands
+withdrew it from me, the island floated back.
+
+I turned my prow towards the last splendour of the sun. A chill breeze
+played over the sea: a shadow crossed my eyes.
+
+Buoyant was my boat; how light her cargo!--an oozing honeycomb, ashy
+fruits, a few branches of drooping leaves, closing flowers; and
+solitary on the thwart the wraith of life's unquiet dream.
+
+So fell night once more, and made all dim. And only the cold light of
+the firmament lit thoughts in me restless as the sea on which I
+tossed, whose moon was dark, yet walked in heaven beneath the distant
+stars.
+
+
+
+Printed and bound by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
+Aylesbury
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 15432-8.txt or 15432-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/4/3/15432
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/15432-8.zip b/15432-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7051dde
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432-8.zip
diff --git a/15432-h.zip b/15432-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e00edb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432-h.zip
diff --git a/15432-h/15432-h.htm b/15432-h/15432-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4863575
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432-h/15432-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,6477 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Henry Brocken, by Walter J. de la Mare</title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {  margin-top: .75em;
+         text-align: justify;
+         margin-bottom: .75em;
+         }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
+         text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+         clear: both;
+         }
+    hr { width: 33%;
+	 margin-top: 2em;
+	 margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;
+       }
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+        }
+
+    .linenum  {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .pagenum  {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */
+    .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em;
+               padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em;
+               float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em;
+               font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;}
+
+    .bb       {border-bottom: solid 2px;}
+    .bl       {border-left: solid 2px;}
+    .bt       {border-top: solid 2px;}
+    .br       {border-right: solid 2px;}
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+    .u        {text-decoration: underline;}
+
+    .caption  {font-weight: bold;}
+
+    .figcenter   {margin: auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figleft     {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top:
+                 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .figright    {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;
+                 margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;}
+
+    .footnotes        {border: dashed 1px;}
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;}
+
+    .poem             {margin-left:5%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span        {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em;}
+    hr.full { width: 100%; }
+    pre      {font-size: 8pt;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Henry Brocken, by Walter J. de la Mare</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Henry Brocken</p>
+<p>       His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance</p>
+<p>Author: Walter J. de la Mare</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 21, 2005  [eBook #15432]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Melissa Er-Raqabi,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (https://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1>HENRY BROCKEN</h1>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 15%;">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>With a heart of furious fancies,<br /></span>
+<span>Whereof I am commander:<br /></span>
+<span>With a burning spear,<br /></span>
+<span>And a horse of air,<br /></span>
+<span>To the wilderness I wander;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>With a Knight of ghosts and shadows,<br /></span>
+<span>I summoned am to Tourney:<br /></span>
+<span>Ten leagues beyond<br /></span>
+<span>The wide world's end;<br /></span>
+<span>Methinks it is no journey.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;ANON. (<i>Tom o' Bedlam</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>HENRY BROCKEN</h1>
+
+<h2>HIS TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES<br />
+IN THE RICH, STRANGE, SCARCE-IMAGINABLE<br />
+REGIONS OF ROMANCE</h2>
+
+<h2>BY WALTER J. DE LA MARE</h2>
+
+<h3>(&quot;WALTER RAMAL&quot;)</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="center">LONDON</p>
+<p class="center">JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.</p>
+<p class="center">1904</p>
+
+<div><br /></div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<p>I. <a href="#I">WHITHER?</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Come hither, come hither, come hither!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;SHAKESPEARE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>II. <a href="#II">LUCY GRAY</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;<br /></span>
+<span>And, when I crossed the wild,<br /></span>
+<span>I chanced to see at break of day<br /></span>
+<span>The solitary child.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;WORDSWORTH.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>III. <a href="#III">JANE EYRE</a></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams ... where
+amidst unusual scenes ... I still again
+and again met Mr. Rochester;... and then the
+sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting
+his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being
+loved by him&mdash;the hope of passing a lifetime at his side,
+would be renewed, with all its first force and fire.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;CHARLOTTE BRONT&Euml; (<i>Jane Eyre</i>, Ch. xxxii.).</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>IV. <a href="#IV">JULIA, ELECTRA, DIANEME</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,<br /></span>
+<span>Old Time is still a-flying:<br /></span>
+<span>And this same flower that smiles to-day<br /></span>
+<span>To-morrow will be dying.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,<br /></span>
+<span>The higher he's a-getting,<br /></span>
+<span>The sooner will his race be run,<br /></span>
+<span>And nearer he's to setting.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>That age is best which is the first,<br /></span>
+<span>When youth and blood are warmer;<br /></span>
+<span>But being spent, the worse, and worst<br /></span>
+<span>Times still succeed the former.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Then be not coy, but use your time;<br /></span>
+<span>And while ye may, go marry:<br /></span>
+<span>For having lost but once your prime,<br /></span>
+<span>You may for ever tarry.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>ANTHEA&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Now is the time when all the lights wax dim,<br /></span>
+<span>And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him<br /></span>
+<span>Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me<br /></span>
+<span>Under the holy-oak or gospel tree;...<br /></span>
+<span>Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb<br /></span>
+<span>In which thy sacred relics shall have room:<br /></span>
+<span>For my embalming, sweetest, there will be<br /></span>
+<span>No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;HERRICK (<i>Hesperides</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>V. <a href="#V">NICK BOTTOM</a></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac;
+find out moonshine, find out moonshine.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;<i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, Act III., Sc. i.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>VI. <a href="#VI">SLEEPING BEAUTY</a></p>
+
+
+<p>VII. &amp; VIII. <a href="#VII">LEMUEL GULLIVER</a></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>I must freely confess that since my last return some
+corruptions of my Yahoo nature have revived in me,
+by conversing with a few of your species, and particularly
+those of my own family, by an unavoidable necessity;
+else I should never have attempted so absurd a
+project as that of reforming the Yahoo race in this
+kingdom: but I have done with all such visionary
+schemes for ever.&mdash;<i>Gulliver's Letter to his Cousin.</i></p>
+
+<p>The first money I laid out was to buy two young
+stone horses, which I kept in a good stable, and next to
+them the groom is my greatest favourite; for I feel
+my spirits revived by the smell he contracts in the
+stable.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;SWIFT (<i>A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms</i>, Ch. xi.).</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>IX. &amp; X. <a href="#IX">MISTRUST, OBSTINATE, LIAR, ETC.</a></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>And as he read he wept and trembled; and not being
+able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable
+cry, saying, &quot;What shall I do?&quot;...</p>
+
+<p>The neighbours also came out to see him run; and
+as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some
+cried after him to return.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ATHEIST&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming
+softly and alone, all along the highway, to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>&mdash;BUNYAN (<i>The Pilgrim's Progress</i>).</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>XI. <a href="#XI">LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,<br /></span>
+<span>Alone and palely loitering?<br /></span>
+<span>The sedge has withered from the lake,<br /></span>
+<span>And no birds sing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,<br /></span>
+<span>So haggard and so woe-begone?<br /></span>
+<span>The squirrel's granary is full,<br /></span>
+<span>And the harvest's done.&quot;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;KEATS.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>XII. <a href="#XII">SLEEP AND DEATH</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Death will come when thou art dead,<br /></span>
+<span>Soon, too soon&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Sleep will come when thou art fled;<br /></span>
+<span>Of neither would I ask the boon<br /></span>
+<span>I ask of thee, beloved Night&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Swift be thine approaching flight,<br /></span>
+<span>Come soon, soon!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;SHELLEY.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>XIII. &amp; XIV. <a href="#XIII">A DOCTOR OF PHYSIC</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Well, well, well,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>... God, God forgive us all!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;<i>Macbeth</i>, Act V., Sc. i.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>XV. <a href="#XV">ANNABEL LEE</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>I was a child, and she was a child<br /></span>
+<span>In this kingdom by the sea;<br /></span>
+<span>And we loved with a love that was more than love&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>I and my Annabel Lee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven<br /></span>
+<span>Coveted her and me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;EDGAR ALLAN POE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>XVI. <a href="#XVI">CRISEYDE</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>... Love hadde his dwellinge<br /></span>
+<span>With-inne the subtile stremes of hir y&euml;n.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Book I., 304-5.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth,<br /></span>
+<span>Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;<br /></span>
+<span>Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Book III., 1110-2.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Book V., 1421.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;CHAUCER (<i>Troilus and Criseyde</i>).<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3>THE TRAVELLER<br />
+TO<br />
+THE READER</h3>
+
+
+
+
+<p>The traveller who presents himself in this
+little book feels how tedious a person he may
+prove to be. Most travellers, that he ever
+heard of, were the happy possessors of audacity
+and rigour, a zeal for facts, a zeal for Science,
+a vivid faith in powder and gold. Who, then,
+will bear for a moment with an ignorant,
+pacific adventurer, without even a gun?</p>
+
+<p>He may, however, seem even more than
+bold in one thing, and that is in describing
+regions where the wise and the imaginative
+and the immortal have been before him.
+For that he never can be contrite enough.
+And yet, in spite of the renown of these
+regions, he can present neither map nor chart
+of them, latitude nor longitude: can affirm
+only that their frontier stretches just this
+side of Dream; that they border Impossibility;
+lie parallel with Peace.</p>
+
+<p>But since it is his, and only his, journey
+and experiences, his wonder and delight in
+these lands that he tells of&mdash;a mere microcosm,
+as it were&mdash;he entreats forgiveness of
+all who love them and their people as much
+as he loves them&mdash;scarce &quot;on this side
+idolatry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>H.B.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="I" id="I" ></a>I</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Oh, what land is the Land of Dream?</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;WILLIAM BLAKE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>I lived, then, in the great world once, in
+an old, roomy house beside a little wood of
+larches, with an aunt of the name of Sophia.
+My father and mother died a few days
+before my fourth birthday, so that I can
+conjure up only fleeting glimpses of their
+faces by which to remember what love was
+then lost to me. Both were youthful at death,
+but my Aunt Sophia was ever elderly. She
+was keen, and just, seldom less than kind;
+but a child was to her something of a little
+animal, and it was nothing more. In consequence,
+well fed, warmly clad, and in
+freedom, I grew up almost in solitude between
+my angels, hearkening with how
+simple a curiosity to that everlasting warfare
+of persuasion and compulsion, terror
+and delight.</p>
+
+<p>Which of them it was that guided me,
+before even I could read, to the little room
+dark with holly trees that had been of
+old my uncle's library, I know not. Perhaps
+at the instant it chanced there had
+fallen a breathless truce between them, and
+I being solitary, my own instinct took me.
+But having once found that pictured haven,
+I had found somewhat of content.</p>
+
+<p>I think half my youthful days passed in
+that low, book-walled chamber. The candles
+I burned through those long years of evening
+would deck Alps' hugest fir; the dust I
+disturbed would very easily fill again the
+measure that some day shall contain my
+own; and the small studious thumbmarks
+that paced, as if my footprints, leaf by leaf
+of that long journey, might be the history
+of life's experience in little,&mdash;from clearer, to
+clear, to faint&mdash;how very faint at last!</p>
+
+<p>I do not remember ever to have been
+discovered in this retreat. I was (by nature)
+prompt at meals, and wary to be in bed at
+my hour, however transitory its occupation
+might be. Indeed, I very well recollect
+dawn painting the page my eyes dwelt on,
+surprising me with its mystery and stealth
+in a house as silent as the grave.</p>
+
+<p>Thus entertained then by insubstantial
+society I grew up, and began to be old,
+before I had yet learned age is disastrous.
+And it was there, in that cold, bright
+chamber, one snowy twilight, first suddenly
+awoke in me an imperative desire for
+distant lands.</p>
+
+<p>Even while little else than a child I had
+begun to cast my mind to travel. I doubt
+if ever Columbus suffered such vexation
+from an itch to be gone.</p>
+
+<p>But whither?</p>
+
+<p>Now, it seemed clear to me after long
+brooding and musing that however beautiful
+were these regions of which I never wearied
+to read, and however wild and faithful and
+strange and lovely the people of the books,
+somewhere the former must remain yet,
+somewhere, in immortality serene, dwell they
+whom so many had spent life in dreaming
+of, and writing about.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, take it for all in all, what could
+these authors have been at, if they laboured
+from dawn to midnight, from laborious
+midnight to dawn, merely to tell of what
+never was, and never by any chance could
+be? It was heaven-clear to me, solitary
+and a dreamer; let me but gain the key,
+I would soon unlock that Eden garden-door.
+Somewhere yet, I was sure, Imogen's
+mountains lift their chill summits into
+heaven; over haunted sea-sands Ariel flits;
+at his webbed casement next the stars
+Faust covets youth, till the last trump shall
+ring him out of dream.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a blue March morning, with
+all the trees of my aunt's woods in a pale-green
+tumult of wind, that, quite unwittingly,
+I set out on a journey that has not yet
+come to an end.</p>
+
+<p>There was a hint in the air at my waking,
+I fancied, not quite of mere earth, the perfume
+of the banners of Flora, of the mould
+where in melting snow the crocus blows. I
+looked from my window, and the western
+clouds drew gravely and loftily in the illimitable
+air towards the whistling house.
+Strange trumpets pealed in the wind. Even
+my poor, aged Aunt Sophia had changed
+with the universal change; her great,
+solitary face reminded me of some long-forgotten
+April.</p>
+
+<p>And a little before eleven I saddled my
+uncle's old mare Rosinante (poor female
+jade to bear a name so glorious!), and rode
+out (as for how many fruitless seasons I
+had ridden out!), down the stony, nettle-narrowed
+path that led for a secret mile or
+more, beneath lindens, towards the hills.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II" ></a>II</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Still thou art blest compared wi' me!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;ROBERT BURNS.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>It is to be wondered at that in so bleak a
+wind I could possibly fall into reverie. But
+the habit was rooted deep in me; Rosinante
+was prosaic and trustworthy; the country
+for miles around familiar to me as the palm
+of my hand. Yet so deeply was I involved,
+and so steadily had we journeyed on, that
+when at last I lifted my eyes with a great
+sigh that was almost a sob, I found myself
+in a place utterly unknown to me.</p>
+
+<p>But more inexplicable yet, not only was
+the place strange, but, by some incredible
+wizardry, Rosinante seemed to have carried
+me out of a March morning, blue and
+tumultuous and bleak, into the grey, sweet
+mist of a midsummer dawn.</p>
+
+<p>I found that we were ambling languidly
+on across a green and level moor. Far
+away, whether of clouds or hills I could not
+yet tell, rose cold towers and pinnacles into
+the last darkness of night. Above us in the
+twilight invisible larks climbed among the
+daybeams, singing as they flew. A thick dew
+lay in beads on stick and stalk. We were
+alone with the fresh wind of morning and the
+clear pillars of the East.</p>
+
+<p>On I went, heedless, curious, marvelling;
+my only desire to press forward to the goal
+whereto destiny was directing me. I suppose
+after this we had journeyed about an hour,
+and the risen sun was on the extreme verge
+of the gilded horizon, when I espied betwixt
+me and the deep woods that lay in the
+distance a little child walking.</p>
+
+<p>She, at any rate, was not a stranger to this
+moorland. Indeed, something in her carriage,
+in the grey cloak she wore, in her light, insistent
+step, in the old lantern she carried, in
+the shrill little song she or the wind seemed
+singing, for a moment half impelled me to
+turn aside. Even Rosinante pricked forward
+her ears, and stooped her gentle face to view
+more closely this light traveller. And she
+pawed the ground with her great shoe, and
+gnawed her bit when I drew rein and leaned
+forward in the saddle to speak to the child.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is there any path here, little girl, that I
+may follow?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No path at all,&quot; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how then do strangers find their way
+across the moor?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>She debated with herself a moment. &quot;Some
+by the stars, and some by the moon,&quot; she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;By the moon!&quot; I cried. &quot;But at day,
+what then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, then, sir,&quot; she said, &quot;they can
+see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I could not help laughing at her demure
+little answers. &quot;Why!&quot; I exclaimed, &quot;what
+a worldly little woman! And what is your
+name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They call me Lucy Gray,&quot; she said,
+looking up into my face. I think my heart
+almost ceased to beat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lucy Gray!&quot; I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; she said most seriously, as if to
+herself, &quot;in all this snow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Snow,'&quot; I said&mdash;&quot;this is dewdrops shining,
+not snow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me without flinching. &quot;How
+else can mother see how I am lost?&quot; she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why!&quot; said I, &quot;how else?&quot; not knowing
+how to reach her bright belief. &quot;And what
+are those thick woods called over there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. &quot;There is no name,&quot;
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you have a name&mdash;Lucy Gray; and
+you started out&mdash;do you remember?&mdash;one
+winter's day at dusk, and wandered on and
+on, on and on, the snow falling in the dark,
+till&mdash;Do you remember?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She stood quite still, her small, serious
+face full to the east, striving with far-off
+dreams. And a merry little smile passed
+over her lips. &quot;That will be a long time
+since,&quot; she said, &quot;and I must be off home.&quot;
+And as if it had been but an apparition of
+my eyes that had beset and deluded me, she
+was gone; and I found myself sitting astride
+in the full brightness of the sun's first beams,
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>What omen was this, then, that I should
+meet first a phantom on my journey? One
+thing only was clear: Rosinante could trust
+to her five wits better than I to mine. So
+leaving her to take what way she pleased,
+I rode on, till at length we approached the
+woods I had descried. Presently we were
+jogging gently down into a deep and misty
+valley flanked by bracken and pines, from
+which issued into the crisp air of morning
+a most delicious aromatic smell, that seemed
+at least to prove this valley not far remote
+from Araby.</p>
+
+<p>I do not think I was disturbed, though I
+confess to having been a little amazed to see
+how profound this valley was into which we
+were descending, yet how swiftly climbed the
+sun, as if to pace with us so that we should
+not be in shadow, howsoever fast we journeyed.
+I was astonished to see flowers of other
+seasons than summer by the wayside, and to
+hear in June, for no other month could bear
+such green abundance, the thrush sing with
+a February voice. Here too, almost at my
+right hand, perched a score or more of robins,
+bright-dyed, warbling elvishly in chorus as if
+the may-boughs whereon they sat were white
+with hoarfrost and not buds. Birds also
+unknown to me in voice and feather I saw,
+and little creatures in fur, timid yet not wild;
+fruits, even, dangled from the trees, as if, like
+the bramble, blossom and seed could live here
+together and prosper.</p>
+
+<p>Yet why should I be distracted by these
+things, thought I. I remembered Maundeville
+and Hithlodaye, Sindbad and Gulliver, and
+many another citizen of Thule, and was reassured.
+A man must either believe what
+he sees, or see what he believes; I know no
+other course. Why, too, should I mistrust
+the bounty of the present merely for the
+scarcity of the past? Not I!</p>
+
+<p>I rode on, and it seemed had advanced
+but a few miles before the sun stood overhead,
+and it was noon. We were growing
+weary, I think, of sheer delight: Rosinante,
+with her mild face beneath its dark forelock
+gazing this side, that side, at the uncustomary
+landscape; and I ever peering forward beneath
+my hat in eagerness to descry some living
+creature a little bigger than these conies and
+squirrels, to prove me yet in lands inhabited.
+But the sun was wheeling headlong, and the
+stillness of late afternoon on the woods, when,
+dusty and parched and heavy, we came to a
+break in the thick foliage, and presently to
+a green gate embowered in box.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="III" id="III" ></a>III</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee suffice</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>To make dreams truth, and fables histories.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;JOHN DONNE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>I dismounted and, with the nose of my
+beast in my bosom, stood awhile gazing, in
+the half-dream weariness brings, across the
+valley at the dense forests that covered the
+hills. And while thus standing, doubtful
+whether to knock at the little gate or to
+ride on, it began to open, and a great particoloured
+dog looked out on us. There was
+certainly something unusual in the aspect of
+this animal, for though he lifted on us grave
+and sagacious eyes, he scarcely seemed to
+see us, manifested neither pleasure nor disapproval,
+neither wagged his tail to give us
+welcome nor yawned to display his armament.
+He seemed a kind of dream-dog,
+a dog one sees without zeal, and sees again
+partly with the eye, but most in recollection.</p>
+
+<p>Thus however we stood, stranger, horse,
+and dog, till a morose voice called somewhere
+from beyond, &quot;Pilot, sir, come here,
+Pilot.&quot; Semi-dog or no, he knew his master.
+Whereupon, tying up my dejected Rosinante
+to a ring in the gateway, I followed boldly
+after &quot;Pilot&quot; into that sequestered garden.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, however, he had disappeared&mdash;down
+a thick green alley to the left, I
+supposed. So I went forward by a clearer
+path, and when I had advanced a few paces,
+met face to face a lady whose dark eyes
+seemed strangely familiar to me.</p>
+
+<p>She was evidently a little disquieted at
+meeting a stranger so unceremoniously, but
+stood her ground like a small, black, fearless
+note of interrogation.</p>
+
+<p>I explained at once, therefore, as best I
+could, how I came to be there: described
+my journey, my bewilderment, and how
+that I knew not into what country nor
+company fate had beguiled me, except that
+the one was beautiful, and the other in
+some delightful way familiar, and I begged
+her to tell me where I really was, and how
+far from home, and of whom I was now
+beseeching forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p>Her thoughts followed my every word,
+passing upon her face like shadows on the
+sea. I have never seen a listener so completely
+still and so completely engrossed in
+listening. And when I had finished, she
+looked aside with a transient, half-sly smile,
+and glanced at me again covertly, so that I
+could not see herself for seeing her eyes;
+and she laughed lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is indeed a strange journey,&quot; she replied.
+&quot;But I fear I cannot in the least
+direct you. I have never ventured my own
+self beyond the woods, lest&mdash;I should penetrate
+too far. But you are tired and hungry.
+Will you please walk on a few steps till
+you come to a stone seat? My name is
+Rochester&mdash;Jane Rochester&quot;&mdash;she glanced up
+between the hollies with a sigh that was all
+but laughter&mdash;&quot;Jane Eyre, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I went on as she had bidden, and seated
+myself before an old, white, many-windowed
+house, squatting, like an owl at noon, beneath
+its green covert. In a few minutes
+the great dog with dripping jowl passed
+almost like reality, and after him his mistress,
+and on her arm her master, Mr.
+Rochester.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed a night of darkness in that
+scarred face, and stars unearthly bright.
+He peered dimly at me, leaning heavily on
+Jane's arm, his left hand plunged into the
+bosom of his coat. And when he was come
+near, he lifted his hat to me with a kind
+of Spanish gravity.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this the gentleman, Jane?&quot; he enquired.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's young!&quot; he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For otherwise he would not be here,&quot;
+she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was the gate bolted, then?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Rochester desires to know if you
+had the audacity, sir, to scale his garden
+wall,&quot; Jane said, turning sharply on me.
+&quot;Shall I count the strawberries, sir?&quot; she
+added over her shoulder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jane, Jane!&quot; he exclaimed testily. &quot;I
+have no wish to be uncivil, sir. We are
+not of the world&mdash;a mere dark satellite. I
+am dim; and suspicious of strangers, as this
+one treacherous eye should manifest. I'll
+but ask your name, sir,&mdash;there are yet a
+few names left, once pleasing to my ear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My name is Brocken, sir&mdash;Henry Brocken,&quot;
+I answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And&mdash;did you walk? Pah! there's the
+mystery! God knows how else you could
+have come, unless you are a modern Ganymede.
+Where then's your aquiline steed,
+sir? We have no neighbours here&mdash;none
+to stare, and pry, and prate, and slander.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I informed him that I was as ignorant as
+he what power had spirited me to his house,
+but that so far as obvious means went, my
+old horse was probably by this time fast
+asleep beside the green gate at which I had
+entered. Jane stood on tip-toe and whispered
+in his ear, and, nodding imperiously
+at him, withdrew into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Complete silence fell between us after
+her departure. The woods stood dark and
+motionless in the yellow evening light.
+There was no sound of wind or water,
+no sound of voices or footsteps; only far
+away the clear, scarce-audible warbling of a
+sleepy bird.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, sir,&quot; Mr. Rochester said suddenly,
+&quot;I am bidden invite you to pass the night
+here. There are stranger inhabitants than
+Mr. and Mrs. Rochester in these regions
+you have by some means strayed into&mdash;wilder
+denizens, by much; for youth's
+seraphic finding. Not for mine, sir, I vow.
+Depart again in the morning, if you will:
+we shall neither of us be displeased by then
+to say farewell, I dare say. I do not seek
+company. My obscure shell is enough.&quot;
+I rose. &quot;Sit down&mdash;sit down again, my dear
+sir; there's no mischief in the truth between
+two men of any world, I suppose, assuredly
+not of this. My wife will see to your comfort.
+There! hushie now, here he floats;
+sit still, sit still&mdash;I hear his wings. It is my
+'Four Evangels,' sir!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was a sleek blackbird that had alighted
+and now set to singing on the topmost twig
+of a lofty pear-tree near by; and with his
+first note Jane reappeared. And while we
+listened, unstirring, to that rich, undaunted
+voice, I had good opportunity to observe
+her, and not, I think, without her knowledge,
+not even without her approval.</p>
+
+<p>This, then, was the face that had returned
+wrath for wrath, remorse for remorse, passion
+for passion to that dark egotist Jane in the
+looking-glass. Yet who, thought I, could be
+else than beautiful with eyes that seemed to
+hide in fleeting cloud a flame as pure as
+amber? The arch simplicity of her gown,
+her small, narrow hands, the exquisite cleverness
+of mouth and chin, the lovely courage
+and sincerity of that yet-childish brow&mdash;it
+seemed even Mr. Rochester's &quot;Four Evangels&quot;
+out of his urgent rhetoric was summoning
+with reiterated persuasions, &quot;Jane Eyre, Jane
+Eyre, Jane Eyre, Ja ... ne!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Light faded from the woods; a faint
+wind blew cold upon our faces. Jane took
+Mr. Rochester's hand and looked into his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to me. &quot;Will you come in,
+Mr. Brocken? I have seen that your horse
+is made quite easy. He was fast asleep,
+poor fellow, as you surmised; and, I think,
+dreaming; for when I proffered him a lump
+of sugar, he thrust his nose into my face
+and breathed as if I were a peck of corn.
+The candles are lit, sir; supper is ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>We went in slowly, and Jane bolted the
+door. &quot;But who it is that can be bolted
+out,&quot; she said, &quot;I know not; though there's
+much to bolt in. I have stood here, Mr.
+Brocken, on darker nights as still as this,
+and have heard what seemed to be the sea
+breaking, far away, leagues upon leagues
+beyond the forests&mdash;the gush forward, the
+protracted, heavy retreat,&mdash;listened till I
+could have wept to think that it was only
+my own poor furious heart beating. You
+may imagine, then, I push the bolts home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But why, Jane&mdash;why?&quot; cried Mr.
+Rochester incredulously. &quot;Violent fancies,
+child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, sir, it was, I say, not the sea I
+heard, but a trickling tide one icy tap
+might stay, if it found but entry there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You talk wildly, Jane&mdash;wildly, wildly;
+the air's afloat with listeners; so it seems,
+so it seems. Had I but one clear lamp
+in this dark face!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>We sat down in the candle-lit twilight
+to supper. It was to me like the supper
+of a child, taken at peace in the clear
+beams, ere he descend into the shadow of
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>They sat, try as I would not to observe
+them, hand touching hand throughout the
+meal. But to me it was as if one might
+sit to eat before a great mountain ruffled
+with pines, and perpetually clamorous with
+torrents. All that Mr. Rochester said, every
+gesture, these were but the ghosts of words
+and movements. Behind them, gloomy, imperturbable,
+withdrawn, slumbered a strange,
+smouldering power. I began to see how
+very hotly Jane must love him, she who
+loved above all things storm, the winds of
+the equinox, the illimitable night-sky.</p>
+
+<p>She begged him to take a little wine with
+me, and filled his glass till it burned like
+a ruby between their hands.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It paints both our hands!&quot; she cried
+glancing up at him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ay, Janet,&quot; he answered; &quot;but where
+is yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what goal will you make for when
+you leave us,&quot; she enquired of me. &quot;<i>Is</i>
+there anywhere else?&quot; she added, lifting
+her slim eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall put trust in Chance,&quot; I replied,
+&quot;which at least is steadfast in change. So
+long as it does not guide me back, I care
+not how far forward I go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are right,&quot; she answered; &quot;that is
+a puissant battlecry, here and hereafter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Rochester rose hastily from his chair.
+&quot;The candles irk me, Jane. I would like to
+be alone. Excuse me, sir.&quot; He left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Jane lifted a dark curtain and beckoned
+me to bring the lights. She sat down
+before a little piano and desired me to sit
+beside her. And while she played, I know
+not what, but only it seemed old, well-remembered
+airs her mood suggested, she
+asked me many questions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And am I indeed only like that poor
+mad thing you thought Jane Eyre?&quot; she
+said, &quot;or did you read between?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I answered that it was not her words,
+not even her thoughts, not even her poetry
+that was to me Jane Eyre.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What then is left of me?&quot; she enquired,
+stooping her eyes over the keys and smiling
+darkly. &quot;Am I indeed so evanescent, a
+wintry wraith?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; I said, &quot;Jane Eyre is left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She pressed her lips together. &quot;I see,&quot; she
+said brightly. &quot;But then, was I not detestable
+too? so stubborn, so wilful, so demented,
+so&mdash;vain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You were vain,&quot; I answered, &quot;because&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot; she said, and the melody died
+out, and the lower voices of her music
+complained softly on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For a barrier,&quot; I answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A barrier?&quot; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes,&quot; I said, &quot;a barrier against
+cant, and flummery, and coldness, and
+pride, and against&mdash;why, against your own
+vanity too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's really very clever&mdash;penetrating,&quot;
+she said; &quot;and I really desired to know, not
+because I did not know already, but to know
+I knew all. You are a perspicacious observer,
+Mr. Brocken; and to be that is to be alive
+in a world of the moribund. But then
+too how high one must soar at times; for
+one must ever condescend in order to observe
+faithfully. At any rate, to observe all one
+must range at an altitude above all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so,&quot; I said, &quot;you have taken your
+praise from me&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you are a man, and I a woman:
+we look with differing eyes, each sex to the
+other, and perceive by contrast. Else&mdash;why,
+how else could you forgive my presumption?
+He sees me as an eagle sees the creeping
+tortoise. I see him as the moon the sun,
+never weary of gazing. I borrow his radiance
+to observe him by. But I weary you with
+my garrulous tongue.... Have you no plan
+at all in your journey? 'Tis not the dangers,
+but to me the endless restlessness of such a
+venture&mdash;that 'Oh, where shall wisdom be
+found?'... Will you not pause?&mdash;stay with
+us a few days to consider again this rash
+journey? To each his world: it is surely
+perilous to transgress its fixed boundaries.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who knows?&quot; I cried, rather arrogantly
+perhaps. &quot;The sorcery that lured me hither
+may carry me as lightly back. But I have
+tasted honey and covet the hive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced sidelong at me with that
+stealthy gravity that lay under all her lightness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That delicious Rosinante!&quot; she exclaimed
+softly.... &quot;And I really believe too <i>I</i> must
+be the honey&mdash;or is it Mr. Rochester? Ah!
+Mr. Brocken, they call it wasp-honey when
+it is so bitter that it blisters the lips.&quot; She
+talked on gaily, as if she had forgotten I was
+but a stranger until now. Yet none the less
+she perceived presently my eyes ever and
+again fixed upon the little brooch of faintest
+gold hair at her throat, and flinched and
+paled, playing on in silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Take the whole past,&quot; she continued
+abruptly, &quot;spread it out before you, with all
+its just defeats, all its broken faith, and overweening
+hopes, its beauty, and fear, and love,
+and its loss&mdash;its loss; then turn and say: this,
+this only, this duller heart, these duller eyes,
+this contumacious spirit is all that is left&mdash;myself.
+Oh! who could wish to one so dear
+a destiny so dark?&quot; She rose hastily from
+the piano. &quot;Did I hear Mr. Rochester's step
+by the window?&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>I crossed the room and looked out into
+the night. The brightening moon hung
+golden in the dark clearness of the sky.
+Mr. Rochester stood motionless, Napoleon-wise,
+beneath the black, unstirring foliage.
+And before I could turn, Jane had begun to
+sing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>You take my heart with tears;<br /></span>
+<span>I battle uselessly;<br /></span>
+<span>Reft of all hopes and doubts and fears,<br /></span>
+<span>Lie quietly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>You veil my heart with cloud;<br /></span>
+<span>Since faith is dim and blind,<br /></span>
+<span>I can but grope perplex'd and bow'd,<br /></span>
+<span>Seek till I find.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Yet bonds are life to me;<br /></span>
+<span>How else could I perceive<br /></span>
+<span>The love in each wild artery<br /></span>
+<span>That bids me live?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Jane's was not a rich voice, nor very sweet,
+and yet I fancied no other voice than this
+could plead and argue quite so clearly and
+with such nimble insistency&mdash;neither of bird,
+nor child, nor brook; because, I suppose, it
+was the voice of Jane Eyre, and all that was
+Jane's seemed Jane's only.</p>
+
+<p>The music ceased, the accompaniment died
+away; but Mr. Rochester stood immobile
+yet&mdash;a little darker night in that much
+deeper. When I turned, Jane was gone
+from the room. I sat down, my face towards
+the still candles, as one who is awake,
+yet dreams on. The faint scent of the earth
+through the open window; the heavy, sombre
+furniture; the daintiness and the alertness in
+the many flowers and few womanly gew-gaws:
+these too I shall remember in a
+tranquillity that cannot change.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden, trembling glimmer at the window
+lit the garden and, instantaneously, the
+distant hills; lit also the figures of Jane and
+Mr. Rochester beneath the trees. They
+entered the house, and once more Jane drew
+the bolts against that phantom fear. A tinge
+of scarlet stood in her cheeks, an added
+lustre in her eyes. They were strange lovers,
+these two&mdash;like frost upon a cypress tree;
+yet summer lay all around us.</p>
+
+<p>I bade them good night and ascended to
+the little room prepared for me. There was
+a great pincushion on the sprigged and portly
+toilet table, and I laboured till the constellations
+had changed beyond my window, in
+printing from a box of tiny pins upon that
+lavendered mound, &quot;Ave, Ave, atque Vale!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Far in the night a dreadful sound woke
+me. I rose and looked out of the window,
+and heard again, deep and reverberating,
+Pilot baying I know not what light minions
+of the moon. The Great Bear wheeled
+faintly clear in the dark zenith, but the
+borders of the east were grey as glass; and
+far away a fierce hound was answering from
+his echo-place in the gloom, as if the dread
+dog of Acheron kept post upon the hills.</p>
+
+<p>A light tap woke me in the sunlight, and
+a lighter voice. Mr. Rochester took breakfast
+with us in a gloomy old dressing-room,
+moody and taciturn, unpacified by sleep.
+But Jane, whimsical and deft, had tied a
+yellow ribbon in the darkness of her hair.</p>
+
+<p>Rosinante awaited me at the little green
+gate, eyeing forlornly the steep valley at her
+feet. And I rode on. The gate was shut
+on me; and Mr. Rochester again, perhaps,
+at his black ease.</p>
+
+<p>I had jogged on, with that peculiar gravity
+age brings to equine hoofs, about a mile,
+when the buttress of a thick wall came into
+view abutting on the lane, and perched
+thereon what at first I deemed a coloured
+figment of the mist that festooned the
+branches and clung along the turf. But
+when I drew near I saw it was indeed
+a child, pink and gold and palest blue.
+And she raised changeling hands at me, and
+laughed and danced and chattered like the
+drops upon a waterfall; and clear as if a
+tiny bell had jingled I heard her cry.</p>
+
+<p>And my heart smote me heavily since I
+had of my own courtesy not remembered
+Ad&egrave;le.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV" ></a>IV</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, tu-witta-woo.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;THOMAS NASH.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>It was yet early, and refreshing in the
+chequered shade. We plodded earnestly after
+our gaunt shadow in the dust, and ever downward,
+till at last we drew so near to the
+opposite steep that I could well nigh count
+its pines.</p>
+
+<p>It was about the hour when birds seek
+shade and leave but few among their fellows
+to sing, that at a stone's throw from the
+foot of the hill I came to where a faint
+bridle-path diverged. And since it was
+smooth with moss, and Rosinante haply
+tired of pebbles; since any but the direct
+road seems ever the more delectable, I too
+turned aside, and broke into the woods
+through which this path meandered.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe it is because all woods are enchanted
+that the path seemed more than many miles
+long. Often too we loitered, or stood, head
+by head, to listen, or to watch what might be
+after all only wings, mere sunbeams. Shall
+I say, then, that it began to be thorny, and,
+where the thorns were, pale with roses, when
+at length the knitted boughs gradually drew
+asunder, and I looked down between twitching,
+hairy ears upon a glade so green and
+tranquil, I deemed it must be the Garden of
+the Hesperides?</p>
+
+<p>And because there ran a very welcome
+brook of water through this glade, I left
+Rosinante to follow whithersoever a sweet
+tooth might dictate, and climbed down into
+the weedy coolness at the waterbrink.</p>
+
+<p>I confess I laughed to see so puckered a
+face as mine in the clear blue of the flowing
+water. But I dipped my hands and my
+head into the cold shallows none the less
+pleasantly, and was casting about for a deeper
+pool where I might bathe unscorned of the
+noonday, when I heard a light laughter behind
+me, and, turning cautiously, perceived under
+the further shadow of the glade three ladies
+sitting.</p>
+
+<p>Not even vanity could persuade me that
+they were laughing at anything more grotesque
+than myself, so, putting a bold face
+on matters so humiliating, I sauntered as
+carelessly and loftily as I dared in their
+direction. My courage seemed to abash
+them a little; they gathered back their petticoats
+like birds about to fly. But at hint
+of a titter, they all three began gaily laughing
+again till their eyes sparkled brighter than
+ever, and their cheeks seemed shadows of
+the roses above their heads.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ladies,&quot; I began gravely, &quot;I have left my
+horse, that is very old and very thirsty, above
+in the wood. Is there any path I may discover
+by which she may reach the water
+without offence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is she very old?&quot; said one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is very old,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But is she very thirsty?&quot; said another.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is perhaps very thirsty,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps!&quot; cried they all.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because, ladies,&quot; I replied, &quot;being by
+nature of a timid tongue, and compelled to
+say something, and having nothing apt to
+say, I remembered my old Rosinante above
+in the wood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They glanced each at each, and glanced
+again at me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But there is no path down that is not
+steep,&quot; said the fairest of the three.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There never was a path, not even, we
+fear, for a traveller on foot,&quot; continued the
+second.</p>
+
+<p>I waited in silence a moment. &quot;Forgive
+me, then,&quot; I said; &quot;I will offend no longer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But this seemed far from their design.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, being come,&quot; began the fairest
+again, &quot;Julia thinks Fortune must have
+brought you. Are we not all between Fortune's
+finger and thumb?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If pinching is to prove anything,&quot; said
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Fortune is fickle, too,&quot; added Julia&mdash;&quot;that's
+early wisdom; but not quite so fickle
+as you would wish to show her. Here we
+have sat in these mortal glades ever since our
+poor Herrick died. And here it seems we
+are like to sit till he rises again. It is all so&mdash;dubious.
+But since Electra has invited you
+to rest awhile, will you not really rest? There
+is shade as deep, and fruit to refresh you, in
+a little arbour yonder. Perhaps even Anthea
+will dip out of her weeping awhile if she hears
+that ... a poor old thirsty horse is tethered in
+the woods.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They rose up together with a prolonged
+rustling as of a peacock displaying his plumes;
+and I found myself irretrievably their captive.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, even if they were but sylphs
+and fantasies of the morning, they were
+fantasies lovely as even their master had
+portrayed; while the dells through which they
+led me were green and deep and white and
+golden with buds.</p>
+
+<p>It was now, I suppose, about the middle of
+the morning, yet though the sun was high,
+his heat was that of dawn. Dawn lingered
+in the shadows, as snow when winter is over
+and gone, and dwelt among the sunbeams.
+Dew lay heavy on the grass, as the dainty
+heels of my captresses testified, yet they trod
+lightly upon daisies wide-open to the blue
+sky, while daffadowndillies stooped in a silence
+broken only by their laughter.</p>
+
+<p>We came presently to a little stone summerhouse
+or arbour, enclustered with leaves
+and flowers of ivy and convolvulus, wherein
+two great dishes of cherries stood and bowls
+of honeycomb and sillabub.</p>
+
+<p>There we sat down; but they kept me
+close too in the midst of the arbour, where
+perhaps I was not so ill-content to be as I
+should like to profess. How then could I else
+than bob for cherries as often as I dared, and
+prove my wit to conceal my hunger?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And now, Sir Traveller,&quot; said she of the
+sparkling eyes, named Dianeme, &quot;since we
+have got you safe, tell us of all we have never
+heard or seen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And oh! are we forgot?&quot; cried Electra,
+laying a lip upon a cherry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's not a poet in his teens but warbles
+of you morn, noon, and night,&quot; I answered.
+&quot;There's not a lover mad, young, true, and
+tender, but borrows your azure, and your
+rubies, and your roses, and your stars, to
+deck his sweetheart's name with.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Boys perhaps,&quot; cried Julia softly, &quot;but
+<i>men</i> soon forget.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Youth never,&quot; I replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why 'Youth'?&quot; said Dianeme. &quot;Herrick
+was not always young.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ay, but all men once were young, please
+God,&quot; I said, &quot;and youth is the only 'once'
+that's worth remembrance. Youth with the
+heart of youth adores you, ladies; because,
+when dreams come thick upon them, they
+catch your flying laughter in the woods.
+When the sun is sunk, and the stars kindle in
+the sky, then your eyes haunt the twilight.
+You come in dreams, and mock the waking.
+You the mystery; you the bravery and
+danger; you the long-sought; you the never-won;
+memories, hopes, songs ere the earth
+is mute. You will always be loved, believe
+me, O bright ladies, till youth fades, turns,
+and loves no more.&quot; And I gazed amazed
+on cherries of such potency as these.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But once, sir,&quot; said Julia timidly, &quot;we
+were not only loved but <i>told</i> we were loved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where is the pleasure else?&quot; cried
+Dianeme.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Besides,&quot; said Electra, &quot;Anthea says if
+we might but find where Styx flows one
+draught&mdash;my mere palmful&mdash;would be
+sweeter than all the poetry ever writ, save
+some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is idle,&quot; cried Dianeme; &quot;Herrick
+himself admired us most on paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And ink makes a cross even of a kiss,
+that is very well known,&quot; said Julia.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; said I, &quot;all men have eyes; few
+see. Most men have tongues: there is but
+one Robin Herrick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will tell you a secret,&quot; said Dianeme.</p>
+
+<p>And as if a bird of the air had carried
+her voice, it seemed a hush fell on sky and
+greenery.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are but fairy-money all,&quot; she said,
+&quot;an envy to see. Take us!&mdash;'tis all dry
+leaves in the hand. Herrick stole the
+honey, and the bees he killed. Blow never
+so softly on the tinder, it flames&mdash;and dies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I heard once,&quot; said Electra, with but a
+thought of pride, &quot;that had I lived a little,
+little earlier, I might have been the Duchess
+of Malfi.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I too, Flatterer,&quot; cried Julia, &quot;I
+too&mdash;Desdemona slain by a blackamoor. To
+some it is the cold hills and the valleys
+'green and sad,' and the sea-birds' wailing,&quot;
+she continued in a low, strange voice, &quot;and
+to some the glens of heather, and the
+mountain-brooks, and the rowans. But,
+come to an end, what are we all? This
+man's eyes will tell ye! I would give
+white and red, nectar and snow and roses,
+and all the similes that ever were for&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For what?&quot; said I.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think, for Robin Herrick,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lamentable confession, for that
+said, gravity fled away; and Electra fetched
+out a lute from a low cupboard in the
+arbour, and while she played Julia sang to
+a sober little melody I seemed to know of
+old:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Sighs have no skill<br /></span>
+<span>To wake from sleep<br /></span>
+<span>Love once too wild, too deep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Gaze if thou will,<br /></span>
+<span>Thou canst not harm<br /></span>
+<span>Eyes shut to subtle charm.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oh! 'tis my silence<br /></span>
+<span>Shows thee false,<br /></span>
+<span>Should I be silent else?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Haste thou then by!<br /></span>
+<span>Shine not thy face<br /></span>
+<span>On mine, and love's disgrace!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Whereat Dianeme lifted on me so na&iuml;ve
+an afflicted face I must needs beseech
+another song, despite my drowsy lids.
+Wherefore I heard, far away as it were,
+the plucking of the strings, and a voice
+betwixt dream and wake sing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>All sweet flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wither ever,<br /></span>
+<span>Gathered fresh<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or gathered never;<br /></span>
+<span>But to live when love is gone!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>Grieve, grieve, lute, sadly on!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>All I had&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Twas all thou gav'st me;<br /></span>
+<span>That foregone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ah! what can save me?<br /></span>
+<span>If the ex&oacute;rcised spirit fly,<br /></span>
+<span>Nought is left to love me by.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Take thy stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My tears then leave me;<br /></span>
+<span>Thine my bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As thine to grieve me;<br /></span>
+<span>Take....<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>For then, so insidious was the music,
+and not quite of this earth the voice, my
+senses altogether forsook me, and I fell
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Would that I could remember much else!
+But I confess it is the heart remembers,
+not the poor, pestered brain that has so
+many thoughts and but one troubled thinker.
+Indeed, were I now to be asked&mdash;Were
+the fingers cold of these bright ladies?
+Were their eyes blue, or hazel, or brown?
+or, haply, were Dianeme's that incomparable,
+dark, sparkling grey? Wore Julia azure,
+and Electra white? And was that our
+poet wrote our poet's only, or truly theirs,
+and so even more lovely?&mdash;I fear I could
+not tell.</p>
+
+<p>I fell asleep; and when I awoke no lute
+was sounding. I was alone; and the arbour
+a little house of gloom on the borders
+of evening. I caught up yet one more
+handful of cherries, and stumbled out, heavy
+and dim, into a pale-green firmanent of
+buds and glow-worms, to seek the poor
+Rosinante I had so heedlessly deserted.</p>
+
+<p>But I was gone but a little way when I
+was brought suddenly to a standstill by
+another sound that in the hush of the garden,
+in the bright languor after sleep, went to my
+heart: it was as if a child were crying.</p>
+
+<p>I pushed through a thick and aromatic
+clump of myrtles, and peering between the
+narrow leaves, perceived the cold, bright face
+of a little marble god beneath willows; and,
+seated upon a starry bank near by, one whom
+by the serpentry of her hair and the shadow
+of her lips I knew to be Anthea.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why are you weeping?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was imitating a little brook,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is late; the bat is up; yet you are
+alone,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pan will protect me,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And nought else?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her face away. &quot;None,&quot; she
+said. &quot;I live among shadows. There was
+a world, I dreamed, where autumn follows
+summer, and after autumn, winter. Here it
+is always June, despite us both.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What, then, would you have?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask him,&quot; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>But the little god looking sidelong was
+mute in his grey regard.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why do you not run away? What keeps
+you here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You ask many questions, stranger! Who
+can escape? To live is to remember. To
+die&mdash;oh, who would forget! Even had I been
+weeping, and not merely mocking time away,
+would my tears be of Lethe at my mouth's
+corners? No,&quot; said Anthea, &quot;why feign
+and lie? All I am is but a memory lovely
+with regret.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She rose, and the myrtles concealed her
+from me. And I, in the midst of the dusk
+where the tiny torches burned sadly&mdash;I turned
+to the sightless eyes of that smiling god.</p>
+
+<p>What he knew, being blind, yet smiling, I
+seemed to know then. But that also I have
+forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>I whistled softly and clearly into the air,
+and a querulous voice answered me from afar&mdash;the
+voice of a grasshopper&mdash;Rosinante's.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V" ></a>V</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>How should I your true love know</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>From another one?</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>But even then she was difficult finding, so
+cunningly had ivy and blackberry and bindweed
+woven snares for the trespasser's foot.</p>
+
+<p>But at last&mdash;not far from where we had
+parted&mdash;I found her, a pillar of smoke in the
+first shining of the moon. She turned large,
+smouldering eyes on me, her mane in elf
+locks, her flanks heaving and wet, her forelock
+frizzed like a colt's. Yet she showed
+only pleasure at seeing me, and so evident
+a desire to unburden the day's history, that
+I almost wished I might be Balaam awhile,
+and she&mdash;Dapple!</p>
+
+<p>It would be idle to attempt to ride through
+these thick, glimmering brakes. The darkness
+was astir. And as the moon above the
+valley brightened, casting pale beams upon
+the folded roses and drooping branches, if
+populous dream did not deceive me, a tiny
+multitude was afoot in the undergrowth&mdash;small
+horns winding, wee tapers burning.</p>
+
+<p>Presently as with Rosinante's nose at my
+shoulder we pushed slowly forward, a nightingale
+burst close against my ear into so
+passionate a descant I thought I should be
+gooseflesh to the end of my days.</p>
+
+<p>The heedless tumult of her song seemed
+to give courage to sounds and voices much
+fainter. Soon a lovelit rival in some distant
+thicket broke into song, and far and near their
+voices echoed above the elfin din of timbrel and
+fife and hunting-horn. I began to wish the
+moon away that dazzled my eyes, yet could
+not muffle my ears.</p>
+
+<p>In the heavy-laden boughs dim lanterns
+burned. There, indeed, when we dipped
+into the deeper umbrage of some loftier tree,
+I espied the pattering hosts&mdash;creatures my
+Dianeme might have threaded for a bangle,
+yet breeched and armed and fiercely martial.</p>
+
+<p>Down, too, in a watery dell of harts-tongue,
+around the root of a swelling
+fungus, a lovely company floated of an insubstantiality
+subtile as taper-smoke, and of a
+beauty as remote as the babes in children's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>We passed unheeded. Four bearded hoofs
+rose and fell upon the moss with all the
+circumspection snorting Rosinante could compass.
+But one might as well go snaring
+moonbeams as dream to crush such airy
+beings. Ever and again a gossamer company
+would soar like a spider on his magic thread,
+and float with a whisper of remotest music
+past my ear; or some bolder pigmy, out
+of the leaves we brushed in passing, skip
+suddenly across the rusty amphitheatre of
+my saddle into the further covert.</p>
+
+<p>So we wandered on, baffled and confused,
+through a hundred pathless glens and dells till
+already gold had begun to dim the swelling
+moon's bright silver, and by the freshness
+and added sweetness of the air it seemed dawn
+must be near, when, on a sudden, a harsh,
+preposterous voice broke on my ear, and such
+a see-saw peal of laughter as I have never
+tittered in sheer fellowship with before, or
+since. We stood listening, and the voice
+broke out again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tittany&mdash;nay, Tittany, you'll crack my
+sides with laughing. Have again at you! love
+your master and you'll wax nimble. Bottom
+will learn you all. Trust Time and Bottom;
+though in sooth your weeny Majesty is
+something less than natural. Drive thy
+straw deeper, Mounsieur Mustardseed! there
+squats a pestilent sweet notion in that
+chamber could spellican but set him capering.
+Prithee your mousemilk hand on this
+smooth brow, mistress! Your nectar throbbeth
+like a blacksmith's anvil. Master Moth,
+draw you these bristling lashes down, they
+mirk the stars and call yon nothing Quince
+to mind&mdash;a vain, official knave, in and out,
+to and fro, play or pleasure; and old Sam
+Snout, the wanton! Lad's days and all&mdash;'twas
+life, Tittany; and I was ever foremost.
+They'd bob and crook to me like spaniels at
+a trencher. Mine was the prettiest conceit,
+this way, that way, past all unravelling
+till envy stretched mine ears. Now I'm old
+dreams. Gone all men's joy, your worships,
+since Bully Bottom took to moonshine.
+Where floats your babe's-hand now, Dame
+Lovepip?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There he lolled, immortal Bottom, propped
+on a bed of asphodel and moly that seemed
+to curd the moonshine; and at his side,
+Titania slim and scarlet, and shimmering
+like a bride-cake. The sky was dark above
+the tapering trees, but here in the secret
+woods light seemed to cling in flake and
+scarf. And it so chanced as our two
+noses leaned forward into his retreat that
+Bottom's head lolled back upon its pillow,
+and his bright, simple eyes stared deep into
+our own.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Save me, ye shapes of nought,&quot; he bellowed,
+&quot;no more, no more, for love's sake.
+I begin to see what men call red Beelzebub,
+and that's an end to all true fellowship.
+Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, Signior Cobweb,
+I beseech you&mdash;a little fiery devil with
+four eyes floats in my brain, and flame's
+a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! avaunt ye!
+Would now my true friend Bottom the
+weaver were at my side. His was a courage
+to make princes great. Prithee, Queen
+Tittany, no more such cozening possets!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I drew Rosinante back into the leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Droop now thy honeyed lids, my dearest
+love!&quot; I heard a clear voice answer. &quot;There's
+nought can harm thee in these silvered woods:
+no bird that pipes but love incites his throat,
+and never a dewdrop wells but whispers
+peace!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ay, ay, 'tis very well, you have a gift, you
+have a gift, Tittany's for twisting words to
+sugarsticks. But la, there, what wots your
+trickling whey of that coal-piffling Prince of
+Flies! I'm Bottom the weaver, I am. He
+knows not his mother's ring-finger that knows
+not Nick Bottom. Back, back, ye jigging
+dreams! 'Tis Puckling nods. Ha' done, ha'
+done&mdash;there's no sweet sanity in an asshead
+more if I quaff their elvish ... Out now ... Ha'
+done, I say!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then indeed he slumbered truly, this engarlanded
+weaver, his lids concealing all bright
+speculation, his jowl of vanity (foe of the
+Philistine) at peace: and I might gaze unperceived.
+The moon filled his mossy cubicle
+with her untrembling beams, streamed upon
+blossoms sweet and heavy as Absalom's hair,
+while tiny plumes wafted into the night the
+scent of thyme and meadow-sweet.</p>
+
+<p>I know not how long they would have kept
+me prisoner with their illusive music. I dared
+not move, scarce wink; for much as immortality
+may mollify hairiness, I had no wish to
+live too frank.</p>
+
+<p>How, also, would this weaver who slumbered
+so cacophonously welcome a rival to his
+realms. I say I sat still, like Echo in the
+woods when none is calling; like too, I grant,
+one who ached not a little after jolts and jars
+and the phantasmal mists of this engendering
+air. But none stirred, nor went, nor came.
+So resting my hands cautiously on a little
+witch's guild of toadstools that squatted cold
+in shade, I lifted myself softly and stood alert.</p>
+
+<p>And in a while out of that numerous company
+stepped one whom by his primrose face
+and mien I took to be Mounsieur Mustardseed,
+and I followed after him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI" ></a>VI</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Care-charming Sleep ...</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>... sweetly thyself dispose</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>On this afflicted prince!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;JOHN FLETCHER.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>Away with a blink of his queer green
+eye over his shoulder he sauntered by a
+devious path out of the dell. Forgetful of
+thorn and brier, trickery and wantonness,
+we clambered down after him, out of the
+moonlight, into a dark, clear alley, soundless
+and solitary amid these enchanted woods.</p>
+
+<p>As I have said already, another air than
+that of night was abroad in the green-grey
+shadows of the woods. Yet between the
+lofty and heavy-hooded pines scarce a beam
+of dawn pierced downward.</p>
+
+<p>Wider swept the avenue, but ever dusky
+and utterly silent. Deeper moss couched
+here; unfallen moondrops glistened; mistletoe
+palely sprouted from the gnarled boughs.
+Nor could I discern, though I searched
+close enough, elder or ash tree or bitter rue.
+We journeyed softly on till I lost all count
+of time, lost, too, all guidance; for as a
+flower falls had vanished Mustardseed.</p>
+
+<p>Far away and ever increasing in volume
+I heard the trembling crash of some great
+water falling. What narrow isles of sky
+were visible between the branches lay sunless
+and still. Yet already, on a mantled
+pool we journeyed softly by, the waterlily
+was unfolding, the swan afloat in beauty.</p>
+
+<p>In a dim, still light we at last slowly
+descended out of the darker glade into a
+garden of grey terraces and flowerless walks.
+Even Rosinante seemed perturbed by the
+stillness and solitude of this wild garden.
+She trod with cautious foot and peering
+eye the green, rainworn paths, that led us
+down presently to where beneath the vault
+of its trees a river flowed.</p>
+
+<p>Surely I could not be mistaken that
+here a voice was singing as if out of the
+black water-deeps, so clear and hollow were
+the notes. I burst through the knotted
+stalks of the ivy, and stooping like some
+poor travesty of Narcissus, with shaded face
+pierced down deep&mdash;deep into eyes not
+my own, but violet and unendurable and
+strange&mdash;eyes of the living water-sprite
+drawing my wits from me, stilling my
+heart, till I was very near plunging into
+that crystal oblivion, to be fishes evermore.</p>
+
+<p>But my fingers still grasped my friend's
+kind elf-locks, and her goose-nose brooded
+beside mine upon that water of undivulged
+delight. Out of the restless silence of the
+stream floated this long-drawn singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Pilgrim forget; in this dark tide<br /></span>
+<span>Sinks the salt tear to peace at last;<br /></span>
+<span>Here undeluding dreams abide,<br /></span>
+<span>All sorrow past.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Nods the wild ivy on her stem;<br /></span>
+<span>The voiceless bird broods on the bough;<br /></span>
+<span>The silence and the song of them<br /></span>
+<span>Untroubled now.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Free that poor captive's flutterings,<br /></span>
+<span>That struggles in thy tired eyes,<br /></span>
+<span>Solace its discontented wings,<br /></span>
+<span>Quiet its cries!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Knells now the dewdrop to its fall,<br /></span>
+<span>The sad wind sleeps no more to rove;<br /></span>
+<span>Rest, for my arms ambrosial<br /></span>
+<span>Ache for thy love!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I cannot think how one so meekened
+with hunger as I, resisted that water-troubled
+hair, eyes that yet haunt me, that
+heart-alluring voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, no,&quot; I said faintly, and the words of
+Anthea came unbidden to mind, &quot;to sleep&mdash;oh!
+who would forget? You plead merely
+with some old dream of me&mdash;not <i>all</i> me, you
+know. Gold is but witchcraft. And as for
+sorrow&mdash;spread me a magical table in this
+nettle-garden, I'll leave all melancholy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I must indeed have been exhausted to
+chop logic with a water-witch. As well
+argue with minnows, entreat the rustling
+of ivy-leaves. It was Rosinante, wearying,
+I suppose, of the reflection of her own
+mild countenance, that drew me back from
+dream and disaster. She turned with arched
+neck seeking a more wholesome pasture than
+these deep mosses.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving her then to her own devices,
+and yet hearkening after the voice of the
+charmer, I came out again into the garden,
+and perceived before me a dark palace
+with one lofty tower.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed strange I had not seen the
+tower at my first coming into this wilderness.
+It stood with clustered summit and
+stooping gargoyles, appealing as it were to
+fear, in utter silence.</p>
+
+<p>Though I knew it must be day, there
+was scarcely more than a green twilight
+around me, ever deepening, until at last I
+could but dimly discern the upper windows
+of the palace, and all sound waned but the
+roar of distant falling water.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was I found that I was not
+alone in the garden. Two little leaden
+children stood in an attitude of listening
+on either side of the carved porch of the
+palace, and between them a figure that
+seemed to be watching me intently.</p>
+
+<p>I looked and looked again&mdash;saw the
+green-grey folds, the tawny locks, the
+mistletoe, the unearthly eyes of this unstirring
+figure, yet, when I advanced but
+one strenuous pace, saw nought&mdash;only the
+little leaden boys and the porch between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>These childish listeners, the straggling
+briers, the impenetrable thickets, the
+emerald gloaming, the marble stillness of
+the lofty lichenous tower: I took courage.
+Could such things be in else than Elfland?
+And she who out of beauty and being
+vanishes and eludes, what else could she
+be than one of Elfland's denizens from
+whom a light and credulous heart need
+fear nothing.</p>
+
+<p>I trod like a shadow where the phantom
+had stood and opened the unused door. I
+was about to pass into the deeper gloom of
+the house when a hound appeared and stood
+regarding me with shining eyes in the faint
+gloaming. He was presently joined by one
+as light-footed, but milk-white and slimmer,
+and both turned their heads as if in question
+of their master, who had followed close
+behind them.</p>
+
+<p>This personage, because of the gloom, or
+the better to observe the intruder on his
+solitude, carried a lantern whose beams were
+reflected upon himself, attired as he was
+from head to foot in the palest primrose,
+but with a countenance yet paler.</p>
+
+<p>There was no hint of enmity or alarm or
+astonishment in the colourless eyes that were
+fixed composedly on mine, nothing but
+courtesy in his low voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Back, Safte!&mdash;back, Sallow!&quot; he cried softly
+to his hounds; &quot;is this your civility? Indeed,
+sir,&quot; he continued to me, &quot;it was all I could
+do to dissuade the creatures from giving
+tongue when you first appeared on the terrace
+of my solitary gardens. I heard too the
+water-sprite: she only sings when footsteps
+stray upon the banks.&quot; He smiled wanly,
+and his nose seemed even sharper in his pale
+face, and his yellow hair leaner about his
+shoulders. &quot;I feared her voice might prove
+too persuasive, and deprive me of the first
+strange face I have seen these many decades
+gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I bowed and murmured an apology for
+my intrusion, just as I might perhaps to
+some apparition of nightmare that over-stayed
+its welcome.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I beseech you, sir,&quot; he replied, &quot;say no
+more! It may be I deemed you at first a
+visitor perchance even more welcome&mdash;if it
+be possible,... yet I know not that either.
+My name is Ennui,&quot;&mdash;he smiled again&mdash;&quot;Prince
+Ennui. You have, perchance, heard
+somewhere our sad story. This is the perpetual
+silence wherein lies that once-happy
+princess, my dear sister, Sleeping Beauty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His voice seemed but an echo amongst
+the walls and arches of this old house, and
+he spoke with a suave enunciation as if in
+an unfamiliar tongue.</p>
+
+<p>I replied that I had read the ever-lovely
+story of Sleeping Beauty, indeed knew it by
+heart, and assured him modestly that I had
+not the least doubt of a happy ending&mdash;&quot;that
+is, if the author be the least authority.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He narrowed his lids. &quot;It is a tradition,&quot;
+he replied; &quot;meanwhile, the thickets broaden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon I begged him to explain how
+it chanced that among that festive and
+animated company I had read of, he alone
+had resisted the wicked godmother's spell.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled distantly, and bowed me into
+the garden.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is a simple thing,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Yet for the life of me I could not but
+doubt all he told me. He who could pass
+spring on to spring, summer on to summer,
+in the company of beasts so sly and silent,
+so alert and fleet as these hounds of his,
+could not be quite the amiable prince he
+feigned to be. I began to wish myself in
+homelier places.</p>
+
+<p>It seems that on the morning of the fatal
+spindle, he had gone coursing, with this Safte
+and Sallow and his horse named &quot;Twilight,&quot;
+and after wearying and heating himself at
+the sport, a little after noon, leaving his
+attendants, had set out to return to the palace
+alone. But allured by the cool seclusion of a
+&quot;lattice-arbour&quot; in his path, he had gone in,
+and then and there, &quot;Twilight&quot; beneath
+the willows, his hounds at his feet, had fallen
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Undisturbed, dreamless, &quot;the unseemly
+hours sped light of foot.&quot; He awoke again,
+between sunset and dark; the owl astir;
+&quot;the silver gnats yet netting the shadows,&quot;
+and so returned to the palace.</p>
+
+<p>But the spell had fallen&mdash;king and courtier,
+queen and lady and page and scullion, hawk
+and hound, slept a sleep past waking&mdash;&quot;while
+I, roamed and roam yet in a solitary
+watch beyond all sleeping. Wherefore, sir,
+I only of the most hospitable house in these
+lands am awake to bid you welcome. But
+as for that, a few dwindling and harsh fruits
+in my orchards, and the cold river water
+that my dogs lap with me, are all that
+is left to offer you. For I who never
+sleep am never hungry, and they who never
+wake&mdash;I presume&mdash;never thirst. Would,
+sir, it were otherwise! After such long
+silence, then, conceive how strangely falls
+your voice on ears that have heard only
+wings fluttering, dismal water-songs, and the
+yelp and quarrel and night-voice of unseen
+hosts in the forests.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at me with a mild austerity
+and again lowered his eyes. I cannot now
+but wonder how the rhythm of a voice so
+soft, so monotonous, could give such pleasure
+to the ear. I almost doubted my own eyes
+when I looked upon his yellow, on that
+unmoved, sad, mad, pale face.</p>
+
+<p>I had no doubt of his dogs, however, and
+walked scarcely at ease beside him, while they,
+shadow-footed, closely followed us at heel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Prince Ennui&quot; conducted me with shining
+lantern into a dense orchard thickly under-grown,
+marvellously green, with a small, hard
+fruit upon its branches, shaped like a medlar,
+of a crisp, sweet odour and, despite its hardness,
+a delicious taste. The interwoven twigs
+of the stooping trees were thickly nested; a
+veritable wilderness of moonlike and starry
+flowers ran all to seed amid the nettles and
+nightshade of this green silence. And while
+I ate&mdash;for I was hungry enough&mdash;Prince
+Ennui stood, his hand on Sallow's muzzle,
+lightly thridding the dusky labyrinths of the
+orchard with his faint green eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mine, too, were not less busy, but rather
+with its lord than with his orchard. And the
+strange thought entered my mind, Was he
+in very deed the incarnation of this solitude,
+this silence, this lawless abundance? Somewhere,
+in the green heats of summer, had he
+come forth, taken shape, exalted himself?
+What but vegetable ichor coursed through
+veins transparent as his? What but the
+swarming mysteries of these thick woods
+lurked in his brain? As for his hounds, theirs
+was the same stealth, the same symmetry, the
+same cold, secret unhumanity as his. Creatures
+begotten of moonlight on silence they seemed
+to me, with instincts past my workaday wits
+to conceive.</p>
+
+<p>And Rosinante! I laughed softly to think
+of her staid bones beside the phantom
+creature this prince had called up to me at
+mention of &quot;Twilight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I ate because I was ravenously hungry, but
+also because, while eating, I was better at my
+ease.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly out of the stillness, like an arrow,
+Safte was gone; and far away beneath the
+motionless leaves a faint voice rang dwindling
+into silence. I shuddered at my probable
+fate.</p>
+
+<p>Prince Ennui glanced lightly. &quot;When the
+magic horn at last resounds,&quot; he said, &quot;how
+strange a flight it will be! These thorny
+briers encroach ever nearer on my palace walls.
+I am a captive ever less at ease. Summer by
+summer the sun rises shorn yet closer of his
+beams, and now the lingering transit of the
+moon is but from one wood by a narrow
+crystal arch to another. They will have me
+yet, sir. How weary will the sleepy ones be
+of my uneasy footfall!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And even as Safte slipped softly back to his
+watching mate, the patter and shrill menace
+of voices behind him hinted not all was
+concord between these hidden multitudes and
+their unseemly prince.</p>
+
+<p>The master-stars shone earlier here; already
+sparkling above the tower was a canopy of
+clearest darkness spread, while the leafy fringes
+of the sky glowed yet with changing fires.</p>
+
+<p>We returned to the lawns before the palace
+porch, and, with his lantern in his hand, the
+Prince signed to me to go in. I was not a
+little curious to view that enchanted household
+of which I had read so often and with so
+much delight as a child.</p>
+
+<p>In the banqueting-hall only the matted
+windows were visible in the lofty walls.
+Prince Ennui held his lantern on high, and by
+its flame, and the faint light that flowed in
+from above, I could presently see, distinct in
+gloom, as many sleepers as even Night could
+desire.</p>
+
+<p>Here they reclined just as sorcerous sleep
+had overtaken them. But how dimmed, how
+fallen! For Time that could not change the
+sleeper had changed with quiet skill all else.
+Tarnished, dusty, withered, overtaken, yellowed,
+and confounded lay banquet and cloth-of-gold,
+flagon, cup, fine linen, table, and stool.
+But in all the ruin, like buds of springtime in
+a bare wood, or jewels in ashes, slumbered
+youth and beauty and bravery and delight.</p>
+
+<p>I lifted my eyes to the King. The gold of
+his divinity was fallen, his splendour quenched;
+but life's dark scrutiny from his face was gone.
+He made no stir at our light, slumbered untreasoned
+on. The lids of his Queen were
+lightlier sealed, only withheld beauty as a
+cloud the sky it hides. His courtiers flattered
+more elusively, being sincerely mute, and only
+a little red dust was all the wine left.</p>
+
+<p>I seemed to hear their laughter clearer now
+that the jest was forgotten, and to admire
+better the pomp, and the mirth, and the grace,
+and the vanity, now that time had so far
+travelled from this little tumult once their
+triumph.</p>
+
+<p>In a kind of furtive bravado, I paced the
+length of the long, thronged tables. Here
+sat a little prince that captivated me, dipping
+his fingers into his cup with a sidelong
+glance at his mother. There a high officer,
+I know not how magnificent and urgent
+when awake, slumbered with eyes wide open
+above his discouraged moustaches.</p>
+
+<p>Simply for vanity of being awake in such
+a sleepy company, I strutted conceitedly to
+and fro. I bent deftly and pilfered a little
+cockled cherry from between the very fingertips
+of her whose heart was doubtless like
+its&mdash;quite hard. And the bright lips never
+said a word. I sat down, rather clownishly I
+felt, beside an aged and simpering chancellor
+that once had seemed wise, but now seemed
+innocent, nibbling a biscuit crisp as scandal.
+For after all the horn <i>would</i> sound. Childhood
+had been quite sure of that&mdash;needed not
+even the author's testimony. They were alert
+to rise, scattering all dust, victors over Time
+and outrageous Fortune.</p>
+
+<p>Almost with a cry of apprehension I perceived
+again the solitary Prince. But he
+merely smiled faintly. &quot;You see, sir,&quot; he said,
+&quot;how weary must a guardianship be of them
+who never tire. The snow falls, and the
+bright light falls on all these faces; yet not
+even my Lady Melancholy stirs a dark lid.
+And all these dog-days&mdash;&quot; He glanced at
+his motionless hounds. They raised languidly
+their narrow heads, whimpering softly, as if
+beseeching of their master that long-delayed
+supper&mdash;haplessly me. &quot;No, no, sirs,&quot; said
+the Prince, as if he had read their desire
+as easily as he whom it so much concerned.
+&quot;Guard, guard, and hearken. This gentleman
+is not the Prince we await, Sallow;
+not the Prince, Safte! And now, sir,&quot;&mdash;he
+turned again to me&mdash;&quot;there is yet one
+other sleeper&mdash;she who hath brought so much
+quietude on a festive house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>We climbed the staircase where dim light
+lay so invitingly, and came presently to a
+little darker chamber. Green, blunt things
+had pushed and burst through the casement.
+The air smelled faintly-sour of brier, and
+was as still as boughs of snow. There the
+not-unhappy Princess reclined before a
+looking-glass, whither I suppose she had
+run to view her own alarm when the sharp
+needle pierced her thumb. All alarm was
+stilled now on her face. She, one might
+think, of all that company of the sleepy,
+was the only one that dreamed. Her youthful
+lips lay a little asunder; the heavy
+beauty of her hair was parted on her forehead;
+her childish hands sidled together like
+leverets in her lap. &quot;Why!&quot; I cried aloud,
+almost involuntarily, &quot;she breathes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And at sound of my voice the hounds
+leapt back; and, on a traveller's oath, I
+verily believe, once, and how swiftly, and
+how fearfully and brightly, those childish
+lids unsealed their light as of lilac that lay
+behind, glanced briefly, fleetingly, on one
+who had ventured so far, and fell again to
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And when,&quot; I cried harshly, &quot;when
+will that laggard burst through this agelong
+silence? Here's dust enough for all to see.
+And all this ruin, this inhospitable peace!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Prince Ennui glanced strangely at me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I assure you, O suddenly enkindled,&quot;
+he said in his suave, monotonous voice, &quot;it
+is not for <i>my</i> indifference he does not come.
+I would willingly sleep; these&mdash;my dear
+sister, all these old fineries and love-jinglers
+would as fain wake.&quot; He turned away his
+treacherous eyes from me. &quot;Maybe the
+Lorelei hath snared him!...&quot; he said,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>I relished not at all the thought of sleeping
+in this mansion of sleep. Yet it seemed
+politic to refrain from giving offence to
+fangs apparently so eager to take it.
+Accordingly I followed this Ennui to a
+loftier chamber yet that he suggested for
+me.</p>
+
+<p>Once there, however, and his soft footfall
+passed away, I looked about me, first to
+find a means for keeping trespassers from
+coming in, and next to find a means for
+getting myself out.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long and arduous, but not a
+perilous, descent from the window by the
+thick-grown greenery that cumbered the
+walls. But I determined to wait awhile
+before venturing,&mdash;wait, too, till I could see
+plainly where Rosinante had made her
+night-quarters. By good fortune I discovered
+her beneath the greenish moon
+that hung amid mist above the forest,
+stretching a disconsolate neck at the waterside
+as if in search of the Lorelei.</p>
+
+<p>When, as it seemed to me, it must be
+nearing dawn, though how the hours flitted
+so swiftly passed my comprehension, I very
+cautiously climbed out of my narrow window
+and descended slowly to the lawns
+beneath. My foot had scarcely touched
+ground when ringing and menacing from
+some dark gallery of the palace above me
+broke out a distant baying.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing shall persuade me to tell how
+fast I ran; how feverishly I haled poor
+Rosinante out of sleep, and pushed her
+down into the deeps of that coal-black
+stream; with what agility I clambered into
+the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>Yet I could not help commiserating the
+while the faithful soul who floated beneath
+me. The stream was swift but noiseless, the
+water rather rare than cold, yet, despite all
+the philosophy beaming out of her maidenly
+eyes across the smooth surface of the tide,
+Rosinante must have preferred from the
+bottom of her heart dry land.</p>
+
+<p>I, too, momentarily, when I discovered
+that we were speedily approaching the
+roaring fall whose reverberations I had
+heard long since.</p>
+
+<p>Out of the emerald twilight we floated
+from beneath the overarching thickets. Pale
+beams were striking from the risen sun upon
+the gliding surface, and dwelt in splendour
+where danger sat charioted beneath a palely
+gorgeous bow. Yet I doubt if ever mortal
+man swept on to defeat at last so rapturously
+as I.</p>
+
+<p>The gloomier trees had now withdrawn
+from the banks of the river. A pale morning
+sky over-canopied the shimmering forests.
+Here rose the solitary tower where Echo
+tarried for the Hornblower. And straight
+before us, across that level floor, beyond
+a tremulous cloud of foam and light and
+colour, lurked the unseen, the unimaginable,
+the ever-dreamed-of, Death.</p>
+
+<p>Heedless of Lorelei, heedless of all save
+the beauty and terror and glory in which
+they rode, down swept snorting ship and
+master to doom.</p>
+
+<p>The crystal water jargoned past my
+saddle. Sky, earth, and tower, like the
+panorama of a dream, wheeled around me.
+Light blinded me; clamour deafened me;
+foam and the pure wave and cold darkness
+whelmed over me. We surged, paused,
+gazed, nodded, crashed:&mdash;and so an end to
+Ennui.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII" ></a>VII</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>He loves to talk with marineres</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>That come from a far countree.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>How long my body was the sport of that
+foaming water I cannot tell. But when I
+again opened my eyes, I found, first, that the
+sun was shining dazzling clear high above
+me, and, next, that the delightful noise of
+running water babbled close against my ear.
+I lay upon a strip of warm sward by the river's
+brink. Near by me grew some rank-smelling
+waterside plant, and overhead the air seemed
+peopled with larks.</p>
+
+<p>I crawled, confused and aching, to the
+water, and dipped my head and hands into the
+cold rills. This soon refreshed me, for the
+sun had, it would seem, long been dwelling on
+that passive corse of mine by the waterside
+and had parched it to the skin.</p>
+
+<p>But it was some little while yet before my
+mind returned fully to what had passed, and
+so to my loss.</p>
+
+<p>I sat looking at the grey, noisy water,
+almost incredulous that Rosinante could be
+gone. It might be that the same hand as
+must have drawn myself from drowning had
+snatched her bridle also out of Fate's grasp.
+Perhaps even now she was seeking her master
+by the greener pasture of the wide plains
+around me. Perhaps the far-off sea was her
+green sepulchre. But many waters cannot
+quench love. I faced, friendless and discomfited,
+a region as strange to me as the
+farther side of the moon.</p>
+
+<p>Without more ado I rose, shook myself,
+and sadly began to go forward. But I had
+taken only a few steps along the banks of
+the stream&mdash;for here was fresh water, at
+least&mdash;when a sound like distant thunder
+rolled over these flat, green lands towards
+me, increasing steadily in volume.</p>
+
+<p>I stood, lost in wonder, and presently, at the
+distance, perhaps, of a little less than a mile,
+descried an innumerable herd of horses streaming
+across these level pastures, and at the
+extremity, it seemed, of a wide ellipse, that
+had brought them near, and now was galloping
+them away.</p>
+
+<p>My heart beat a little faster at this extraordinary
+spectacle. And while I stood in
+uncertainty gazing after the retreating concourse,
+I perceived a figure running towards
+me, lifting his hands and crying out in a voice
+sonorous and inhuman. He was of a stature
+much above my own, yet so gross in shape
+and immense of head he seemed at first almost
+dwarfish. He came to a stand twenty paces
+or so from me, on the ridge of a gentle
+inclination, and gazed down on me with wild,
+bright eyes. Even at this distance I could
+perceive the almost colourless lustre of his
+eyes beneath his thick locks of yellow hair.
+When he had taken his fill of me, he lifted
+his head again and cried out to me a few
+words of what certainly might be English,
+but was neither intelligible nor reassuring.</p>
+
+<p>I stood my ground and stared him in the
+face, till I could see nothing but wind-blown
+yellow, and strange, brutal eyes. Then he
+advanced a little nearer. Whereupon I also
+raised my hand with a gesture like his own,
+and demanded loudly where I was, what was
+this place, and who was he. His very ears
+pricked forward, he listened so intently. He
+came nearer yet, then stayed, tossed his head
+into the air, whirled the long leather thong
+he carried above his head, and, signing to me
+to follow, set off with so swift and easy a
+stride as would soon have carried him out of
+sight, had he not turned and perceived how
+slowly I could follow him.</p>
+
+<p>He slackened his pace then, and, thus
+running, we came in sight at length of what
+appeared to be a vast wooden shed, or barn,
+with one rude chimney, and surrounded by
+a thick fence, or stockade, many feet high
+and apparently of immense strength and
+stability.</p>
+
+<p>In the gateway of this fence stood the
+master of these solitudes, his eyes fixed
+strangely on my coming with an intense, I
+had almost said incredulous, interest. Nor
+did he cease so to regard me, while the
+creature that had conducted me thither, told,
+I suppose, where he had found me, and poured
+out with childish zeal his own amazement and
+delight. By this time, too, his voice had
+begun to lose its first strangeness, and to take
+a meaning for me. And I was presently
+fully persuaded he spoke a kind of English,
+and that not unpleasingly, with a liquid, shrill,
+voluminous ease. His master listened patiently
+awhile, but at last bade his servant be silent,
+and himself addressed me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am informed, Yahoo,&quot; he said with peculiar
+deliberation, &quot;that you have been borne
+down into my meadows by the river, and
+fetched out thence by my servant. Be aware,
+then, that all these lands from horizon to
+horizon are mine and my people's. I desire
+no tidings of what follies may be beyond my
+boundaries, no aid, and no amity. I admit no
+trespasser here and will bear with none. It
+appears, however, that your life has passed
+beyond your own keeping: I may not, therefore,
+refuse you shelter and food, and to have
+you conducted in safety beyond my borders.
+Have the courtesy, then, to keep within
+shelter of these walls till the night be over.
+Else&quot;&mdash;he gazed out across the verdant
+undulations&mdash;&quot;else, Yahoo, I have no power
+to protect you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He turned once more, and regarded me
+with a lofty yet tender recognition, as if, little
+though his speech might profess it, he very
+keenly desired my safety.</p>
+
+<p>He then stepped aside and bade me rather
+sharply enter the gate before him. I tried to
+show none of the mistrust I felt at passing out
+of these open lands into this repellent yard.
+I glanced at the shock-haired creature, alert,
+half-human, beside me; across the limitless
+savannah around me, echoing yet, it seemed,
+with the rumour of innumerable hoofs; and
+bowing, as it were, to odds, I went in.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, I felt my host had been
+frank with me. If this was indeed the same
+Lemuel Gulliver whose repute my infancy had
+prized so well, I need have no fear of blood
+and treachery at his hands, however primitive
+and disgusting his household, or distorted his
+intellect might be. He who had proved
+no tyrant in Lilliput, nor quailed before the
+enormities of Brobdingnag, might abhor the
+sight of me; he would not play me false.</p>
+
+<p>His servant, or whatsoever else he might
+be, I considered not quite so calmly. Yet
+even in <i>his</i> broad countenance dwelt a something
+like bright honesty, less malice than
+simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore, I say, I ordered down my
+cowardice, and, looking both of them as
+squarely in the face as I knew how, passed
+out of the open into the appalling yard of
+this wooden house.</p>
+
+<p>I say &quot;appalling,&quot; but without much
+reason. Perhaps it was the unseemly hugeness
+of its balks, the foul piles of skins,
+the mounds of refuse that lay about within;
+perhaps the all-pervading beastly stench, the
+bareness and filthiness under so glassy-clear
+and fierce a sun that revolted me. All
+man's seemliness and affection for the natural
+things of earth were absent. Here was
+only a brutal and bald order, as of an
+intelligence like that of the yellow-locked,
+swift-footed creature behind me. Perhaps
+also it was the mere unfamiliarity of much
+I saw there that estranged me. All lay
+in neglect, cracked and marred with rough
+usage,&mdash;coarse strands of a kind of rope,
+strips of hide, gaping tubs, a huge and
+rusty brazier, and in one corner a great
+cage, many feet square and surmounted
+with an iron ring.</p>
+
+<p>I know not. I almost desired Sallow at
+my side, and would to heaven Rosinante's
+nose lay in my palm.</p>
+
+<p>Within the house a wood-fire burned in
+the sun, its smoke ascending to the roof,
+and flowing thence through a rude chimney.
+A pot steamed over the fire, burdening the
+air with a savour at first somewhat faint
+and disgusting,&mdash;perhaps because it was
+merely strange to me. The walls of this
+lofty room were of rough, substantial timber,
+bare and weatherproof; the floor was of the
+colour of earth, seemingly earth itself. A
+few rude stools, a bench, and a four-legged
+table stood beside the unshuttered window.
+And from this stretched the beauteous
+green of the grass-land or prairie beyond the
+stockade.</p>
+
+<p>The house, then, was built on the summit
+of a gentle mound, and doubtless commanded
+from its upper window the extreme
+reaches of this sea of verdure.</p>
+
+<p>I sat down where Mr. Gulliver directed
+me, and was not displeased with the warmth
+of the fire, despite the sun. I was cold
+after that long, watery lullaby, and cold too
+with exhaustion after running so far at the
+heels of the creature who had found me.
+And I dwelt in a kind of dream on the
+transparent flames, and watched vacantly the
+seething pot, and smelt till slowly appetite
+returned the smoke of the stuff that bubbled
+beneath its lid.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gulliver himself brought me my
+platter of this pottage, and though it tasted
+of nothing in my experience&mdash;a kind of
+sweet, cloying meat&mdash;I was so tired of the
+fruits to which enterprise had as yet condemned
+me, I ate of it hungrily and
+heartily. Yet not so fast as that the
+young &quot;Gulliver&quot; had not finished his
+before me, and sat at length watching every
+mouthful I took from beneath his sun-enticing
+thatch of hair. Ever and again
+he would toss up his chin with a shrill
+guffaw, or stoop his head till his eyeballs
+were almost hidden beneath their thick
+lashes, so regarding me for minutes together
+with a delightful simulation of intelligence,
+yet with that peculiar wistful affection his
+master had himself exhibited at first sight
+of me.</p>
+
+<p>But when our meal was done, Mr.
+Gulliver ordered him about his business.
+Without a murmur, with one last, long,
+brotherly glance at me, he withdrew. And
+presently after I heard from afar his high,
+melancholy &quot;cooee,&quot; and the crack of his
+thong in the afternoon air as he hastened
+out to his charges.</p>
+
+<p>My companion did not stir. Only the
+flames waved silently along the logs. The
+beam of sunlight drew across the floor.
+The crisp air of the pasture flowed through
+the window. What wonder, then, that,
+sitting on my stool, I fell asleep!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII" ></a>VIII</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>If I see all, ye're nine to ane!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;OLD BALLAD.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>I was awoke by a sustained sound as of
+an orator speaking in an unknown tongue,
+and found myself in a sunny-shadowy loft,
+whither I suppose I must have been carried
+in my sleep. In a delicious languor between
+sleeping and waking I listened with
+imperturbable curiosity awhile to that voice
+of the unknown. Indeed, I was dozing
+again when a different sound, enormous,
+protracted, abruptly aroused me. I got up,
+hot and trembling, not yet quite my own
+master, to discover its cause.</p>
+
+<p>Through a narrow slit between the timbers
+I could view the country beneath me, far
+and wide. I saw near at hand the cumbrous
+gate of the stockade ajar, and at a little
+distance on the farther side Mr. Gulliver
+and his half-human servant standing. In
+front of them was an empty space&mdash;a narrow
+semicircle of which Gulliver was the centre.
+And beyond&mdash;wild-eyed, dishevelled, stretching
+their necks as if to see, inclining their
+heads as if to hearken, ranging in multitude
+almost to the sky's verge&mdash;stood assembled,
+it seemed to me, all the horses of the
+universe.</p>
+
+<p>Even in my first sensation of fear admiration
+irresistibly stirred. The superb freedom
+of their unbridled heads, the sun-nurtured
+arrogance of their eyes, the tumultuous, sea-like
+tossing of crest and tail, their keenness
+and ardour and might, and also in simple
+truth their numbers&mdash;how could one marvel
+if this solitary fanatic dreamed they heard
+him and understood?</p>
+
+<p>Unarmed, bareheaded, he faced the brutal
+discontent of his people. Words I could not
+distinguish; but there was little chance of
+misapprehending the haughty anguish with
+which he threatened, pleaded, cajoled. Clear
+and unfaltering his voice rose and fell. He
+dealt out fearlessly, foolishly, to that long-snouted,
+little-brained, wild-eyed multitude,
+reason beyond their instinct, persuasion beyond
+their savagery, love beyond their heed.</p>
+
+<p>But even while I listened, one thing I
+knew those sleek malcontents heard too&mdash;the
+Spirit of man in that small voice of his&mdash;perplexed,
+perhaps, and perverted, and out of
+tether; but none the less unconquerable and
+sublime.</p>
+
+<p>What less, thought I, than power unearthly
+could long maintain that stern, impassable
+barrier of green vacancy between their hoofs
+and him? And I suppose for the very reason
+that these were beasts of a long-sharpened
+sagacity, wild-hearted, rebellious, yet not the
+slaves of impulse, he yet kept himself their
+king who was, in fact, their captive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Houyhnhnms?&quot; I heard him cry; &quot;pah&mdash;Yahoos!&quot;
+His voice fell; he stood confronting
+in silence that vast circumference
+of restless beauty. And again broke out
+inhuman, inarticulate, immeasurable revolt.
+Far across over the tossing host, rearing,
+leaping, craning dishevelled heads, went pealing
+and eddying that hostile, brutal voice.</p>
+
+<p>Gulliver lifted his hand, and a tempestuous
+silence fell once more. &quot;Yahoos! Yahoos!&quot;
+he bawled again. Then he turned, and passed
+back into his hideous garden. The gate was
+barred and bolted behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Thus loosed and unrestrained, surged as if
+the wind drove them, that concourse upon the
+stockade. Heavy though its timbers were,
+they seemed to stoop at the impact. A kind
+of fury rose in me. I lusted to go down and
+face the mutiny of the brutes; bit, and saddle,
+and scourge into obedience man's serfs of the
+centuries. I watched, on fire, the flame of
+the declining sun upon those sleek, vehement
+creatures of the dust. And then, I know not
+by what subtle irony, my zeal turned back&mdash;turned
+back and faded away into simple longing
+for my lost friend, my peaceful beast-of-evening,
+Rosinante. I sat down again in the
+litter of my bed and earnestly wished myself
+home; wished, indeed, if I must confess it,
+for the familiar face of my Aunt Sophia, my
+books, my bed. If these were this land's horses,
+I thought, what men might here be met! The
+unsavouriness, the solitude, the neighing and
+tumult and prancing induced in me nothing
+but dulness at last and disgust.</p>
+
+<p>But at length, dismissing all such folly, at
+least from my face, I lifted the trap-door and
+descended the steep ladder into the room
+beneath.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gulliver sat where I had left him.
+Defeat stared from his eyes. Lines of insane
+thought disfigured his face. Yet he sat,
+stubborn and upright, heedless of the uproar,
+heedless even that the late beams of the sun
+had found him out in his last desolation. So
+I too sat down without speech, and waited
+till he should come up out of his gloom,
+and find a friend in a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>But day waned; the sunlight went out
+of the great wooden room; the tumult
+diminished; and finally silence and evening
+shadow descended on the beleaguered house.
+And I was looking out of the darkened
+window at a star that had risen and stood
+shining in the sky, when I was startled by a
+voice so low and so different from any I had
+yet heard that I turned to convince myself it
+was indeed Mr. Gulliver's.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the people of the Yahoos, Traveller,&quot;
+he said, &quot;do they still lie, and flatter, and
+bribe, and spill blood, and lust, and covet?
+Are there yet in the country whence you
+come the breadless bellies, the sores and rags
+and lamentations of the poor? Ay, Yahoo,
+and do vicious men rule, and attain riches;
+and impious women pomp and flattery?&mdash;hypocrites,
+pandars, envious, treacherous,
+proud?&quot; He stared with desolate sorrow
+and wrath into my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Words in disorder flocked to my tongue. I
+grew hot and eager, yet by some instinct held
+my peace. The fluttering of the dying flames,
+the starry darkness, silence itself; what were
+we who sat together? Transient shadows both,
+phantom, unfathomable, mysterious as these.</p>
+
+<p>I fancied he might speak again. Once he
+started, raised his arm, and cried out as if
+acting again in dream some frenzy of the past.
+And once he wheeled on me extraordinary
+eyes, as if he half-recognised some idol of
+the irrevocable in my face. These were
+momentary, however. Gloom returned to his
+forehead, vacancy to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>I heard the outer gate flung open, and a
+light, strange footfall. So we seated ourselves,
+all three, for a while round the smouldering
+fire. Mr. Gulliver's servant scarcely took his
+eyes from my face. And, a little to my confusion,
+his first astonishment of me had now
+passed away, and in its stead had fallen such a
+gentleness and humour as I should not have
+supposed possible in his wild countenance.
+He busied himself over his strips of skin, but
+if he caught my eye upon his own he would
+smile out broadly, and nod his great, hairy
+head at me, till I fancied myself a child again
+and he some vast sweetheart of my nurse.</p>
+
+<p>When we had supped (sitting together in
+the great room), I climbed the ladder into
+the loft and was soon fast asleep. But from
+dreams distracted with confusion I awoke
+at the first shafts of dawn. I stood beside the
+narrow window in the wall of the loft and
+watched the distant river change to silver,
+the bright green of the grass appear.</p>
+
+<p>This seemed a place of few and timorous
+birds, and of fewer trees. But all across the
+dews of the grasses lay a tinge of powdered
+gold, as if yellow flowers were blooming in
+abundance there. I saw no horses, no sign of
+life; heard no sound but the cadent wail of
+the ash-grey birds in their flights. And when
+I turned my eyes nearer home, and compared
+the distant beauty of the forests and their
+radiant clouds with the nakedness and desolation
+here, I gave up looking from the window
+with a determination to be gone as soon as
+possible from a country so uncongenial.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, Mr. Gulliver, it appeared, had
+returned during the night to his first mistrust
+of my company. He made no sign he saw
+me, and left his uncouth servant to attend
+on me. For him, indeed, I began to feel a
+kind of affection springing up; he seemed
+so eager to befriend me. And whose is
+the heart quite hardened against a simple
+admiration? I rose very gladly when, after
+having stuffed a wallet with food, he signed
+to me to follow him. I turned to Mr.
+Gulliver and held out my hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish, sir, I might induce you to accompany
+me,&quot; I said. &quot;Some day we would
+win our way back to the country we have
+abandoned. I have known and loved your
+name, sir, since first I browsed on pictures&mdash;Being
+measured for your first coat in Lilliput
+by the little tailors:&mdash;Straddling the pinnacled
+city. Ay, sir, and when the farmers picked
+you up 'twixt finger and thumb from among
+their cornstalks....&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I had talked on in hope to see his face
+relax; but he made no sign he saw or heard
+me. I very speedily dropped my hand and
+went out. But when my guide and I had
+advanced about thirty yards from the stockade,
+I cast a glance over my shoulder towards the
+house that had given me shelter. It rose,
+sad-coloured and solitary, between the green
+and blue. But, if it was not fancy, Mr.
+Gulliver stood looking down on me from the
+very window whence I had looked down on
+him. And there I do not doubt he stayed
+till his fellow-yahoo had passed across his
+inhospitable lands out of his sight for ever.</p>
+
+<p>I was glad to be gone, and did not, at first,
+realise that the least danger lay before us.
+But soon, observing the extraordinary vigilance
+and caution my companion showed, I began
+to watch and hearken, too. Evidently our
+departure had not passed unseen. Far away
+to left and to right of us I descried at whiles
+now a few, now many, swift-moving shapes.
+But whether they were advancing with us, or
+gathering behind us, in hope to catch their
+tyrant alone and unaware, I could not properly
+distinguish.</p>
+
+<p>Once, for a cause not apparent to me, my
+guide raised himself to his full height, and,
+thrusting back his head, uttered a most
+piercing cry. After that, however, we saw no
+more for a while of the beasts that haunted
+our journey.</p>
+
+<p>All morning, till the sun was high, and the
+air athrob with heat and stretched like a great
+fiddlestring to a continuous, shrill vibration,
+we went steadily forward. And when at last
+I was faint with heat and thirst, my companion
+lifted me up like a child on to his
+back and set off again at his great, easy
+stride. It was useless to protest. I merely
+buried my hands in his yellow hair to keep
+my balance in such a camel-like motion.</p>
+
+<p>A little after noon we stayed to rest by
+a shallow brook, beneath a cluster of trees
+scented, though not in blossom, like an
+English hawthorn. There we ate our meal,
+or rather I ate and my companion watched,
+running out ever and again for a wider
+survey, and returning to me like a faithful
+dog, to shout snatches of his inconceivable
+language at me.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes I seemed to catch his meaning,
+bidding me take courage, have no fear, he
+would protect me. And once he shaded his
+eyes and pointed afar with extreme perturbation,
+whining or murmuring while he stared.</p>
+
+<p>Again we set off from beneath the sweet-scented
+shade, and now no doubt remained
+that I was the object of very hostile evolutions.
+Sometimes these smooth-hooved battalions
+would advance, cloudlike, to within fifty yards
+of us, and, snorting, ruffle their manes and
+wheel swiftly away; only once more in turn
+to advance, and stand, with heads exalted,
+gazing wildly on us till we were passed on a
+little. But my guide gave them very little
+heed. Did they pause a moment too long
+in our path, or gallop down on us but a
+stretch or two beyond the limit his instinct
+had set for my safety, he whirled his thong
+above his head, and his yell resounded, and
+like a shadow upon wheat the furious companies
+melted away.</p>
+
+<p>Evidently these were not the foes he looked
+for, but a subtler, a more indomitable. It
+was at last, I conjectured, at scent, or sight,
+or rumour of these that he suddenly swept me
+on to his shoulders again, and with a great
+sneeze or bellow leapt off at a speed he
+had, as yet, given me no hint of.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back as best I could, I began to
+discern somewhat to the left of us a numerous
+herd in pursuit, sorrel in colour, and of a
+more magnificent aspect than those forming
+the other bands. It was obvious, too, despite
+their plunging and rearing, that they were
+gaining on us&mdash;drew, indeed, so near at last
+that I could count the foremost of them, and
+mark (not quite callously) their power and
+fleetness and symmetry, even the sun's gold
+upon their reddish skins.</p>
+
+<p>Then in a flash my captor set me down,
+toppled me over (in plain words) into the
+thick herbage, and, turning, rushed bellowing,
+undeviating towards their leaders, till it
+seemed he must inevitably be borne down
+beneath their brute weight, and so&mdash;farewell
+to summer. But almost at the impact, the
+baffled creatures reared, neighing fearfully in
+consort, and at the gibberish hurled back on
+them by their flamed-eyed master, broke in
+rout, and fled.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon, unpausing, he ran back to me,
+only just in time to rescue me from the nearer
+thunder yet of those who had seized the
+very acme of their opportunity to beat out
+my brains.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long and arduous and unequal
+contest. I wished very heartily I could bear
+a rather less passive part. But this fearless
+creature scarcely heeded me; used me like
+a helpless child, half tenderly, half roughly,
+displaying ever and again over his shoulder
+only a fleeting glance of the shallow glories of
+his eyes, as if to reassure me of his power
+and my safety.</p>
+
+<p>But the latter, those distant savannahs
+will bear witness, seemed forlorn enough.
+My eyes swam with weariness of these crested,
+earth-disdaining battalions. I sickened of the
+heat of the sun, the incessant sidelong jolting,
+the amazing green. But on we went, fleet
+and stubborn, into ever-thickening danger.
+How feeble a quarry amid so many hunters!</p>
+
+<p>Two things grew clearer to me each
+instant. First, that every movement and
+feint of our pursuers was of design. Not a
+beast that wheeled but wheeled to purpose;
+while the main body never swerved, thundered
+superbly on toward the inevitable end. And
+next I perceived with even keener assurance
+that my guide knew his country and his
+enemy and his own power and aim as perfectly
+and consummately; knew, too&mdash;this was the
+end.</p>
+
+<p>Far distant in front of us there appeared
+to be a break in the level green, a fringe of
+bushes, rougher ground. For this refuge he
+was making, and from this our mutinous
+Houyhnhnms meant to keep us.</p>
+
+<p>There was no pausing now, not a glance
+behind. His every effort was bent on speed.
+Speed indeed it was. The wind roared in
+my ears. Yet above its surge I heard the
+neighing and squealing, the ever-approaching
+shudder of hoofs. My eyes distorted all they
+looked on. I seemed now floating twenty
+feet in air; now skimming within touch of
+ground. Now that sorrel squadron behind me
+swelled and nodded; now dwindled to an
+extreme minuteness of motion.</p>
+
+<p>Then, of a sudden, a last, shrill paean rose
+high; the hosts of our pursuers paused, billow-like,
+reared, and scattered&mdash;my poor Yahoo
+leapt clear.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant once again in this wild
+journey I was poised, as it were, in space,
+then fell with a crash, still clutched, sure
+and whole, to the broad shoulders of my
+rescuer.</p>
+
+<p>When my first confusion had passed away,
+I found that I was lying in a dense green glen
+at the foot of a cliff. For some moments I
+could think of nothing but my extraordinary
+escape from destruction. Within reach of my
+hand lay the creature who had carried me,
+huddled and motionless; and to left and to
+right of me, and one a little nearer the base of
+the cliff, five of those sorrel horses that had
+been chief of our pursuers. One only of them
+was alive, and he, also, broken and unable to
+rise&mdash;unable to do else than watch with
+fierce, untamed, glazing eyes (a bloody froth
+at his muzzle,) every movement and sign of
+life I made.</p>
+
+<p>I myself, though bruised and bleeding, had
+received no serious injury. But my Yahoo
+would rise no more. His master was left
+alone amidst his people. I stooped over him
+and bathed his brow and cheeks with the
+water that trickled from the cliffs close at
+hand. I pushed back the thick strands of
+matted yellow hair from his eyes. He made
+no sign. Even while I watched him the
+life of the poor beast near at hand welled
+away: he whinnied softly, and dropped his
+head upon the bracken. I was alone in the
+unbroken silence.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a graceless thing to leave the
+carcasses of these brave creatures uncovered
+there. So I stripped off branches of the
+trees, and gathered bundles of fern and
+bracken, with which to conceal awhile their
+bones from wolf and fowl. And him whom I
+had begun to love I covered last, desiring he
+might but return, if only for a moment, to
+bid me his strange farewell.</p>
+
+<p>This done, I pushed through the undergrowth
+from the foot of the sunny cliffs, and
+after wandering in the woods, came late in the
+afternoon, tired out, to a ruinous hut. Here
+I rested, refreshing myself with the unripe
+berries that grew near by.</p>
+
+<p>I remained quite still in this mouldering
+hut looking out on the glens where fell the
+sunlight. Some homely bird warbled endlessly
+on in her retreat, lifted her small voice
+till every hollow resounded with her content.
+Silvery butterflies wavered across the sun's
+pale beams, sipped, and flew in wreaths away.
+The infinite hordes of the dust raised their
+universal voice till, listening, it seemed to me
+their tiny Babel was after all my own old,
+far-off English, sweet of the husk.</p>
+
+<p>Fate leads a man through danger to his
+delight. Me she had led among woods. Nameless
+though many of the cups and stars and
+odours of the flowers were to me, unfamiliar
+the little shapes that gamboled in fur and
+feather before my face, here dwelt, mummy
+of all earth's summers, some old ghost of me,
+sipper of sap, coucher in moss, quieter than
+dust.</p>
+
+<p>So sitting, so rhapsodising, I began to
+hear presently another sound&mdash;the rich, juicy
+munch-munch of jaws, a little blunted maybe,
+which yet, it seemed, could never cry Enough!
+to these sweet, succulent grasses. I made no
+sign, waited with eyes towards the sound,
+and pulses beating as if for a sweetheart.
+And soon, placid, unsurprised, at her extreme
+ease, loomed into sight who but my ox-headed
+Rosinante in these dells, cropping her
+delightful way along in search of her drowned
+master.</p>
+
+<p>I could but whistle and receive the slow,
+soft scrutiny of her familiar eyes. I fancied
+even her bland face smiled, as might elderliness
+on youth. She climbed near with
+bridle broken and trailing, thrust out her nose
+to me, and so was mine again.</p>
+
+<p>Sunlight left the woods. Wind passed
+through the upper branches. So, with rain in
+the air, I went forward once more; not quite
+so headily, perhaps, yet, I hope, with undiminished
+courage, like all earth's travellers
+before me, who have deemed truth potent as
+modesty, and themselves worth scanning print
+after.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX" ></a>IX</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>A ... shop of rarities.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;GEORGE HERBERT.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>A little before darkness fell we struck
+into a narrow road traversing the wood.
+This, though apparently not much frequented,
+would at least lead me into lands inhabited,
+so turning my face to the West, that I
+might have light to survey as long as any
+gleamed in the sky, I trudged on. But I
+went slow enough: Rosinante was lame;
+I like a stranger to my body, it was so
+bruised and tumbled.</p>
+
+<p>The night was black, and a thin rain
+falling when at last I emerged from the
+interminable maze of lanes into which the
+wood-road had led me. And glad I was
+to descry what seemed by the many lights
+shining from its windows to be a populous
+village. A gay village also, for song
+came wafted on the night air, rustic and
+convivial.</p>
+
+<p>Hereabouts I overtook a figure on foot,
+who, when I addressed him, turned on me
+as sharply as if he supposed the elms above
+him were thick with robbers, or that mine
+was a voice out of the unearthly hailing
+him.</p>
+
+<p>I asked him the name of the village we
+were approaching. With small dark eyes
+searching my face in the black shadow of
+night, he answered in a voice so strange
+and guttural that I failed to understand a
+word. He shook his fingers in the air;
+pointed with the cudgel he carried under
+his arm now to the gloom behind us, now
+to the homely galaxy before us, and gabbled
+on so fast and so earnestly that I began to
+suppose he was a little crazed.</p>
+
+<p>One word, however, I caught at last from
+all this jargon, and that often repeated
+with a little bow to me, and an uneasy
+smile on his white face&mdash;&quot;Mishrush, Mishrush!&quot;
+But whether by this he meant to
+convey to me his habitual mood, or his
+own name, I did not learn till afterwards.
+I stopped in the heavy road and raised
+my hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;An inn,&quot; I cried in his ear, &quot;I want
+lodging, supper&mdash;a tavern, an inn!&quot; as if
+addressing a child or a natural.</p>
+
+<p>He began gesticulating again, evidently
+vain of having fully understood me. Indeed,
+he twisted his little head upon his shoulders
+to observe Rosinante gauntly labouring on.
+&quot;'Ame!&mdash;'ame!&quot; he cried with a great effort.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; he cried piteously.</p>
+
+<p>He led me, after a few minutes' journey,
+into the cobbled yard of a bright-painted
+inn, on whose signboard a rising sun glimmered
+faintly gold, and these letters standing
+close above it&mdash;&quot;The World's End.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. &quot;Mishrush&quot; seemed not a little
+relieved at nearing company after his
+lonely walk; triumphant, too, at having
+guided me hither so cunningly. He lifted
+his nimble cudgel in the air and waved it
+conceitedly to and fro in time to the song
+that rose beyond the window. &quot;Fau'ow
+er Wur'!&mdash;Fau'ow er Wur'!&quot; he cried
+delightedly again and again in my ear,
+eager apparently for my approval. So we
+stood, then, beneath the starless sky, listening
+to the rich <i>choragium</i> of the &quot;World's
+End.&quot; They sang in unison, sang with a
+kind of forlorn heat and enthusiasm. And
+when the song was ended, and the roar of
+applause over, Night, like a darkened water
+whelmed silently in, engulfed it to the echo:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>Follow the World&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span>She bursts the grape,<br /></span>
+<span>And dandles man<br /></span>
+<span>In her green lap;<br /></span>
+<span>She moulds her Creature<br /></span>
+<span>From the clay,<br /></span>
+<span>And crumbles him<br /></span>
+<span>To dust away:<br /></span>
+<span>Follow the World!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>One Draught, one Feast,<br /></span>
+<span>One Wench, one Tomb;<br /></span>
+<span>And thou must straight<br /></span>
+<span>To ashes come:<br /></span>
+<span>Drink, eat, and sleep;<br /></span>
+<span>Why fret and pine?<br /></span>
+<span>Death can but snatch<br /></span>
+<span>What ne'er was thine:<br /></span>
+<span>Follow the World!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It died away, I say, and an ostler softly
+appeared out of the shadow. Into his
+charge, then, I surrendered Rosinante, and
+followed my inarticulate acquaintance into
+the noise and heat and lustre of the Inn.</p>
+
+<p>It was a numerous company there
+assembled. But their voices fell to a
+man on the entry of a stranger. They
+scrutinised me, not uncivilly, but closely,
+seeking my badge, as it were by which to
+recognise and judge me ever after.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Mistrust, as I presently discovered
+my guide's name indeed to be, was volubly
+explaining how I came into his company.
+They listened intently to what, so far as
+I could gather, might be Houyhnhnmish or
+Double-Dutch. And then, as if to show
+me to my place forthwith, a great fleshy
+fellow that sat close beside the hearth this
+summer evening continued in a loud voice
+the conversation I had interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Mr. Mistrust with no little
+confidence commended me in dumb show
+to the landlady of the Inn, a Mrs. Nature,
+if I understood him aright. This person
+was still comely, though of uncertain age,
+wore cherry ribbons, smiled rather vacantly
+from vague, wonderful, indescribable eyes
+that seemed to change colour, like the
+chameleon, according to that they dwelt on.</p>
+
+<p>I am afraid, as much to my amusement
+as wonder, I discovered that this landlady
+of so much apparent <i>bonhomie</i> was a deaf-mute.
+If victuals, or drink, or bed were
+required, one must chalk it down on a little
+slate she carried at her girdle for the purpose.
+Indeed, the absence of two of her
+three chief senses had marvellously sharpened
+the remaining one. Her eyes were on all,
+vaguely dwelling, lightly gone, inscrutable,
+strangely fascinating. She moved easily and
+soundlessly (as fat women may), and I
+doubt if ever mug or pot of any of that
+talkative throng remained long empty, except
+at the tippler's reiterated request.</p>
+
+<p>She laid before me an excellent supper
+on a little table somewhat removed beside
+a curtained window. And while I ate I
+watched, and listened, not at all displeased
+with my entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>The room in which we sat was low-ceiled
+and cheerful, but rather close after the
+rainy night-air. Gay pictures beautified the
+walls. Here a bottle, a cheese, grapes, a
+hare, a goblet&mdash;in a clear brown light that
+made the guest's mouth water to admire.
+Here a fine gentleman toasting a simpering
+chambermaid. Above the chimney-piece a
+bloated old man in vineleaves that might
+be Silenus. And over against the door of
+the parlour what I took to be a picture
+of Potiphar's wife, she looked out of the
+paint so bold and beauteous and craftily.
+Birds and fishes in cases stared glassily,&mdash;owl
+and kestrel, jack and eel and gudgeon.
+All was clean and comfortable as a hospitable
+inn can be.</p>
+
+<p>But they who frequented it interested me
+much more&mdash;as various and animated a
+gathering as any I have seen. Yet in some
+peculiar manner they seemed one and all
+not to the last tittle quite of this world.
+They were, so to speak, more earthy, too
+definite, too true to the mould, like figures
+in a bleak, bright light viewed out of darkness.
+Certainly not one of them was at
+first blush prepossessing. Yet who finds
+much amiss with the fox at last, though all
+he seems to have be cunning?</p>
+
+<p>Near beside me, however, sat retired a
+man a little younger and more at his ease
+than most of the many there, and as busy
+with his eyes and ears as I. His name, I
+learned presently, was Reverie; and from
+him I gathered not a little information regarding
+the persons who talked and sipped
+around us.</p>
+
+<p>He told me at whiles that his house was
+not in the village, but in a valley some
+few miles distant across the meadows; that
+he sat out these bouts of argument and
+slander for the sheer delight he had in
+gathering the myriad strands of that strange
+rope Opinion; that he lived (heart, soul, and
+hope) well-nigh alone; that he deeply mistrusted
+this place, and the company we
+were in, yet not for its mistress's sake,
+who was at least faithful to her instincts,
+candid to the candid, made no favourites,
+and, eventually, compelled order. He told
+me also that if friends he had, he deemed
+it wiser not to name them, since the least
+sibilant of the sound of the voice incites to
+treachery; and in conclusion, that of all men
+he was acquainted with, one at least never
+failed to right his humour; and that one
+was yonder flabby, pallid fellow with the
+velvet collar to his coat, and the rings on
+his fingers, and the gold hair, named Pliable,
+who sat beside Mr. Stubborn on the settle
+by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>When, then, I had finished my supper, I
+drew in my chair a little closer to Mr.
+Reverie's and, having scribbled my wants on
+the Landlady's slate, turned my attention to
+the talk.</p>
+
+<p>At the moment when I first began to listen
+attentively they seemed to be in heated
+dispute concerning the personal property of
+a certain Mr. Christian, who was either
+dead or had inexplicably disappeared. Mr.
+Obstinate, I gathered, had taken as his right
+this Christian's &quot;easy-chair&quot;; a gentleman
+named Smoothman most of his other goods
+for a debt; while a Parson Decorum had
+appropriated as heretical his books and various
+peculiar MSS.</p>
+
+<p>But there now remained in question a
+trifling sum of money which a Mr. Liar
+loudly demanded in payment of an &quot;affair of
+honour.&quot; This, however, he seemed little
+likely to obtain, seeing that an elderly uncle
+by marriage of Christian's, whose name was
+Office, was as eager and affable and frank
+about the sum as he was bent on keeping
+it; and rattled the contents of his breeches'
+pocket in sheer bravado of his means to go
+to law for it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He left a bare pittance, the merest pittance,&quot;
+he said. &quot;What could there be of
+any account? Christian despised money,
+professed to despise it. That alone would
+prove my wretched nephew queer in the
+head&mdash;despised <i>money</i>!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tush, friend!&quot; cried Obstinate from his
+corner. &quot;Whether the money is yours, or
+neighbour Liar's&mdash;and it is as likely as not
+neither's&mdash;that talk about despising money's
+what but a silly lie? 'Twas all sour grapes&mdash;sour
+grapes. He had cunning enough for
+envy, and pride enough for shame; and at last
+there was naught but cunning left wherewith
+to patch up a clout for him and his shame to
+be gone in. I watched him set out on his
+pestilent pilgrimage, crazed and stubborn, and
+not a groat to call his own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet I have heard say he came of a
+moneyed stock,&quot; said Pliable. &quot;The Sects
+of Privy Opinion were rare wealthy people,
+and they, so 'tis said, were his kinsmen. Truth
+is, for aught I know, Christian must have
+been in some degree a very liberal rascal, with
+all his faults.&quot; He tittered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! he was liberal enough,&quot; said Mr.
+Malice suavely: &quot;why, even on setting out,
+he emptied his wife's purse into a blind
+beggar's hat!&mdash;his that used to bleat, 'Cast
+thy bread&mdash;cast thy bread upon the waters!'
+whensoever he spied Christian stepping along
+the street. They say,&quot; he added, burying
+his clever face in his mug, &quot;the Heavenly
+Jerusalem lieth down by the weir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we must not contemn a man for his
+poverty, neighbours,&quot; said Liar, gravely composing
+his hairless face. &quot;Christian's was a
+character of beautiful simplicity&mdash;beautiful!
+<i>How</i> many rickety children did he leave
+behind him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shrill voice called somewhat I could not
+quite distinguish, for at that moment a youth
+rose abruptly near by, and went hastily out.</p>
+
+<p>Obstinate stared roundly. &quot;Thou hast a
+piercing voice, friend Liar!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did but seek the truth,&quot; said Liar.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But whether or no, Christian believed in
+it&mdash;verily he seemed to believe in it. Was
+it not so, neighbour Obstinate?&quot; enquired
+Pliable, stroking his leg.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Believed in what, my friend?&quot; said
+Obstinate, in a dull voice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;About Mount Zion, and the Crowns of
+Glory, and the Harps of Gold, and such like,&quot;
+said Pliable uneasily&mdash;&quot;at least, it is said so;
+so 'tis said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Believed!&quot; retorted a smooth young man
+who seemed to feel the heat, and sat by the
+staircase door. &quot;That's an easy task&mdash;to
+believe, sir. Ask any pretty minikin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I'd make bold to enquire of yonder
+Liveloose,&quot; said a thick, monotonous voice (a
+Mr. Dull's, so Reverie informed me), &quot;if
+mebbe he be referring to one of his own, or
+that fellow Sloth's devilish fairy tales? I
+know one yet he'll eat again some day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At which remark all laughed consumedly,
+save Dull.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, one thing Christian had, and none
+can deny it,&quot; said Pliable, a little hotly, &quot;and
+that was Imagination? <i>I</i> shan't forget the
+tales he was wont to tell: what say you,
+Superstition?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Superstition lifted dark, rather vacant
+eyes on Pliable. &quot;Yes, yes,&quot; he said:
+&quot;Flame, and sigh, and lamentation. My
+God, my God, gentlemen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oo-ay, Oo-ay,&quot; yelped the voice of Mistrust,
+startled out of silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oo-ay,&quot; whistled Malice, under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tush, tush!&quot; broke in Obstinate again, and
+snapped his fingers in the air. &quot;And what is
+this precious Imagination? Whither doth it
+conduct a man, but to beggary, infamy, and
+the mad-house? Look ye to it, friend Pliable!
+'Tis a devouring flame; give it but wind and
+leisure, the fairest house is ashes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ashes; ashes!&quot; mocked one called Cruelty,
+who had more than once taken my attention
+with his peculiar contortions&mdash;&quot;talking of
+ashes, what of Love-the-log Faithful, Master
+Tongue-stump? What of Love-the-log
+Faithful?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At which Liveloose was so extremely
+amused, the tears stood in his eyes for
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>I looked round for Mistrust, and easily
+recognised my friend by his hare-like face,
+and the rage in his little active eyes. But
+unfortunately, as I turned to enquire somewhat
+of Reverie, Liveloose suddenly paused
+in his merriment with open mouth; and the
+whole company heard my question, &quot;But who
+was Love-the-log Faithful?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I was at once again the centre of attention,
+and Mr. Obstinate rose very laboriously from
+his settle and held out a great hand to me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm pleased to meet thee,&quot; he said, with
+a heavy bow. &quot;There's a dear heart with
+my good neighbour Superstition yonder who
+will present a very fair account of that misguided
+young man. Madam Wanton, here's
+a young gentleman that never heard tell of
+our old friend Love-the-log.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shrill peal of laughter greeted this sally.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Faithful was a young gentleman,
+sir,&quot; explained the woman civilly enough,
+&quot;who preferred his supper hot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Madam Wanton, my dear, my dear!&quot;
+cried a long-nosed woman nearly helpless with
+amusement.</p>
+
+<p>I saw Superstition gazing darkly at me.
+He shook his head as I was about to reply,
+so I changed my retort. &quot;Who, then, was
+Mr. Christian?&quot; I enquired simply.</p>
+
+<p>At that the house shook with the roar of
+laughter that went up.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X" ></a>X</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>... <i>Large draughts of intellectual day.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;RICHARD CRASHAW.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Believe me, neighbours,&quot; said Malice
+softly, when this uproar was a little abated,
+&quot;there is nought so strange in the question.
+It meaneth only that this young gentleman
+hath not enjoyed the pleasure of your company
+before. Will it amaze you to learn, my
+friends, that Christian is like to be immortal
+only because you <i>talk</i> him out of the grave?
+One brief epitaph, gentlemen, would let him
+rot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, but I'll tell the gentleman who
+Christian was, and with pleasure,&quot; cried a
+lucid, rather sallow little man that had sat
+quietly smiling and listening. &quot;My name, let
+me tell you, is Atheist, sir; and Christian was
+formerly a very near neighbour of an old
+friend of my family's&mdash;Mr. Sceptic. They
+lived, sir&mdash;at least in those days&mdash;opposite
+to one another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He is a great talker,&quot; whispered Reverie in
+my ear. But the company evidently found
+his talk to their taste. They sat as still and
+attentive around him, as though before an
+extemporary preacher.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, sir,&quot; continued Atheist, &quot;being, in a
+sense, neighbours, Christian in his youth would
+often confide in my friend; though, assuredly,
+Sceptic never sought his confidences. And
+it seemeth he began to be perturbed and
+troubled over the discovery that it is impossible&mdash;at
+least in this plain world&mdash;to eat
+your cake, yet have it. And by some ill
+chance he happened at this time on a mouldy
+old folio in my friend's house that had been
+the property of his maternal grandmother&mdash;the
+subtlest old tome you ever set eyes on,
+though somewhat too dark and extravagant
+and heady for a sober man of the world like
+me. 'Twas called the Bible, sir&mdash;a collection
+of legends and fables of all times, tongues, and
+countries threaded together, mighty ingeniously
+I grant, and in as plausible a style as
+any I know, if a little lax and flowery in
+parts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Christian borroweth the book of my
+friend&mdash;never to return it. And being feeble
+and credulous, partly by reason of his simple
+wits, and partly by reason of the sad condition a
+froward youth had reduced him to, he accepts
+the whole book&mdash;from Apple to Vials&mdash;for
+truth. In fact, 'he ate the little book,' as one
+of the legendary kings it celebrates had done
+before him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ay,&quot; broke in Cruelty wildly, &quot;and has
+ever since gotten the gripes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Atheist inclined his head. &quot;Putting it
+coarsely, gentlemen, such was the case,&quot; he
+said. &quot;And away at his wit's end he hasteneth,
+waning and shivering, to a great bog or
+quagmire&mdash;that my friend Pliable will answer
+to&mdash;and plungeth in. 'Tis the same story
+repeated. He could be temperate in nought.
+<i>I</i> knew the bog well; but I knew the stepping-stones
+better. Believe me, I have traversed
+the narrow way this same Christian took,
+seeking the harps and pearls and the <i>elixir vit&aelig;</i>,
+these many years past. The book inciteth
+ye to it. It sets a man's heart on fire&mdash;that's
+weak enough to read it&mdash;with its pomp, and
+rhetoric, and far-away promises, and lofty
+counsels. Oh, fine words, who is not their
+puppet! I climbed 'Difficulty.' I snapped
+my fingers at the grinning Lions. I passed
+cautiously through the 'Valley of the Shadow'&mdash;wild
+scenery, sir! I visited that prince of
+bubbles also, Giant Despair, in his draughty
+castle. And&mdash;though boasting be far from
+me!&mdash;fetched Liveloose's half-brother out of
+a certain charnel-house near by.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;<i>Thus far</i>, sir, I went. But I have not
+yet found the world so barren of literature
+as to write a book about it. I have not yet
+found the world so barren of ingratitude as
+to seek happiness by stabbing in the back
+every friend I ever had. I have not yet
+forsaken wife and children; neighbours and
+kinsmen; home, ease, and tenderness, for a
+whim, a dream, a passing qualm. No, sir;
+'tis this Christian's ignorant hardness-of-heart
+that is his bane. Knowing little, he prateth
+much. He would pinch and contract the
+Universe to his own fantastical pattern. He
+is tedious, he is pragmatical, and&mdash;I affirm it
+in all sympathy and sorrow&mdash;he is crazed.
+Malice, haply, is a little sharp at times. And
+neighbour Obstinate dealeth full weight with
+his opinions. But this Christian Flown-to-Glory,
+as the urchins say, pinks with a
+bludgeon. He cannot endure an honest doubt.
+He distorteth a mere difference of opinion
+into a roaring Tophet. And because he is
+helpless, solitary, despised in the world;
+because he is impotent to refute, and too
+stubborn to hear and suffer people a little
+higher and weightier, a leetle wiser than he&mdash;why,
+beyond the grave he must set his hope
+in vengeance. Beyond the grave&mdash;bliss for his
+own shade; fire and brimstone, eternal woe
+for theirs. Ay, and 'tis not but for a season
+will he vex us, but for ever, and for ever,
+and for ever&mdash;if he knoweth in the least
+what he meaneth by the phrase. And this
+he calls 'Charity.'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, sirs, beyond the grave he would
+condemn us, beyond the grave&mdash;a place of
+peace whereto I deem there are not many
+here but will be content at length to come;
+and I not least content, when my duty is
+done, my children provided for, and my last
+suspicion of fear and folly suppressed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To conclude, sir&mdash;and beshrew me, gentlemen,
+how time doth fly in talk!&mdash;this
+Christian goeth his way. We, each in accord
+with his caprice and conscience, go ours. We
+envy him not his vapours, his terrors, or his
+shameless greed of reward. Why, then, doth
+he envy us our wealth, our success, our gaiety,
+our content? He raves. He is haunted.
+What is man but as grass, and the flower of
+grass? Come the sickle, he is clean gone.
+I can but repeat it, sir, our poor neighbour
+was crazed: 'tis Christian in a word.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A sigh, a murmur of satisfaction and relief,
+rose from the company, as if one and all had
+escaped by Mr. Atheist's lucidity out of a
+very real peril.</p>
+
+<p>I thanked him for his courtesy, and in
+some confusion turned to Reverie with the
+remark that I thought I now recollected to
+have heard Christian's name, but understood
+he had indeed arrived, at last, at the Celestial
+City for which he had set out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Celestial twaddle, sir!&quot; cried Mr. Obstinate
+hoarsely. &quot;He went stark, staring mad, and
+now is dust, as we shall soon all be, that's
+certain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then Cruelty rose out of his chair and
+elbowed his way to the door. He opened it
+and looked out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I would,&quot; he said, &quot;I had known of this
+Christian before he started. Step you down
+to Vanity Fair, Sir Stranger, if the mood take
+you; and we'll show you as pretty a persuasion
+against pilgrimage as ever you saw.&quot;
+He opened his mouth where he stood between
+me and the stars. &quot;... There's many more!&quot;
+he added with difficulty, as if his rage was too
+much for him. He spat into the air and
+went out.</p>
+
+<p>Presently after Liveloose rose up, smiling
+softly, and groped after him.</p>
+
+<p>A little silence followed their departure.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You must tell your friend, Mr. Reverie,&quot;
+said Atheist good-humouredly, &quot;that Mr.
+Cruelty says more than he means. To my
+mind he is mistaken&mdash;too energetic; but
+his intentions are good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He's a staunch, dependable fellow,&quot; said
+Obstinate, patting down the wide cuffs he
+wore.</p>
+
+<p>But even at that moment a stranger softly
+entered the inn out of the night. His face
+was of the grey of ashes, and he looked once
+round on us all with a still, appalling
+glance that silenced the words on my lips.</p>
+
+<p>We sat without speech&mdash;Obstinate yawning,
+Atheist smiling lightly, Superstition
+nibbling his nails, Reverie with chin drawn
+a little back, Pliable bolt upright, like a
+green and white wand, Mistrust blinking
+his little thin lids; but all with eyes fixed
+on this stranger, who deemed himself, it
+seemed, among friends.</p>
+
+<p>He turned his back on us and sipped his
+drink under the heedless, deep, untroubled
+gaze of Mrs. Nature, and passed out softly
+and harmlessly as he had come in.</p>
+
+<p>Reverie stood up like a man surprised
+and ill at ease. He turned to me. &quot;I
+know him only by repute, by hearsay,&quot; he
+said with an effort. &quot;He is a stranger to
+us all, indeed, sir&mdash;to all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Obstinate, with a very flushed face, thrust
+his hand into his breeches' pocket. &quot;Nay,
+sir,&quot; he said, &quot;my purse is yet here. What
+more would you have?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At which Pliable laughed, turning to the
+women.</p>
+
+<p>I put on my hat and followed Reverie to
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Excuse me, sir,&quot; I said, &quot;but I have no
+desire to stay in this house over-night.
+And if you would kindly direct me to the
+nearest way out of the village, I will have
+my horse saddled now and be off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And then I noticed that Superstition stood
+in the light of the doorway looking down
+on us.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's Christian's way,&quot; he said, as if
+involuntarily....</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lodge with me to-night,&quot; Reverie answered,
+&quot;and in the morning you shall
+choose which way to go you will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I thanked him heartily and turned in to
+find Rosinante.</p>
+
+<p>The night was now fine, but moist and
+sultry, and misty in the distance. It was
+late, too, for few candles gleamed beneath
+the moonlight from the windows round
+about the smooth village-green. Even as we
+set out, I leading Rosinante by her bridle,
+and Superstition on my left hand, out of
+heavenly Leo a bright star wheeled, fading
+as it fell. And soon high hedges hid utterly
+the &quot;World's End&quot; behind us, out of sight
+and sound.</p>
+
+<p>I observed when the trees had laid their
+burdened branches overhead, and the thick-flowered
+bushes begun to straiten our way,
+that this Mr. Superstition who had desired
+to accompany us was of a very different
+courage from that his manner at the inn
+seemed to profess.</p>
+
+<p>He walked with almost as much caution
+and ungainliness as Mistrust, his deep and
+shining eyes busily searching the gloom to
+left and right of him. Indeed, those same
+dark eyes of his reminded me not a little
+of Mrs. Nature's, they were so full of what
+they could not tell.</p>
+
+<p>He was on foot; my new friend Reverie,
+like myself, led his horse, a pale, lovely
+creature with delicate nostrils and deep-smouldering
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You must think me very bold to force
+my company on you,&quot; said Superstition
+awkwardly, turning to Reverie, &quot;but my
+house is never so mute with horror as in
+these moody summer nights when thunder
+is in the air. See there!&quot; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>As if the distant sky had opened, the
+large, bright, harmless lightning quivered
+and was gone, revealing on the opposing
+hills forest above forest unutterably dark
+and still.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Surely,&quot; I said, &quot;that is not the way
+Christian took?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They say,&quot; Reverie answered, &quot;the
+Valley of the Shadow of Death lies between
+those hills.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But Atheist,&quot; I said, &quot;<i>that</i> acid little
+man, did he indeed walk there alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have heard,&quot; muttered Superstition,
+putting out his hand, &quot;'tis fear only that
+maketh afraid. Atheist has no fear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what of Cruelty,&quot; I said, &quot;and
+Liveloose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; answered Superstition, &quot;Cruelty
+works cunningest when he is afraid; and
+Liveloose never talks about himself. None
+the less there's not a tree but casts a shadow.
+I met once an earnest yet very popular
+young gentleman of the name of Science,
+who explained almost everything on earth
+to me so clearly, and patiently, and fatherly,
+I thought I should evermore sleep in peace.
+But we met at noon. Believe me, sir, I
+would have followed Christian and his friend
+Hopeful very willingly long since; for as
+for Cruelty and Obstinate and all that
+clumsy rabble, I heed them not. Indeed
+my cousin Mistrust <i>did</i> go, and as you see
+returned with a caution; and a poor young
+school-fellow of mine, Jack Ignorance, came
+to an awful end. But it is because I owe
+partly to Christian and not all to myself
+this horrible solitude in which I walk that
+I dare not risk a deeper. It would be, I
+feel sure. And so I very willingly beheld
+Faithful burned; it restored my confidence.
+And here, sir,&quot; he added, almost with gaiety,
+&quot;lives my friend Mrs. Simple, a widow.
+She enjoys my company and my old fables,
+and we keep the blinds down against these
+mountains, and candles burning against the
+brighter lightnings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, Superstition bade us good-night
+and passed down a little by-lane on
+our left towards a country cottage, like a
+dreaming bower of roses beneath the moon.</p>
+
+<p>But Reverie and I continued on as if the
+moon herself as patiently pursued us. And
+by-and-by we came to a house called
+Gloom, whose gardens slope down with
+plashing fountains and glimmering banks of
+flowers into the shadow and stillness of a
+broad valley, named beneath the hills of
+Silence, Peace.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI" ></a>XI</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>And be among her cloudy trophies hung.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;JOHN KEATS.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>Even as we entered the gates of Mr. Reverie's
+house beneath embowering chestnuts, there
+advanced across the moonlit spaces to meet
+us a figure on foot like ourselves, leading his
+horse. He was in armour, yet unarmed.
+His steel glittered cold and blue; his fingers
+hung ungauntleted; and on his pale face dwelt
+a look never happy warrior wore yet. He
+seemed a man Mars lends to Venus out of
+war to unhappy idleness. The disillusionment
+of age was in his face: yet he was youthful,
+I suppose; scarce older than Mercutio, and
+once, perhaps, as light of wit.</p>
+
+<p>He took my hand in a grasp cold and
+listless, and smiled from mirthless eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there was something strangely taking
+in this solitary knight-at-arms. She for whom
+he does not fight, I thought, must have somewhat
+of the immortals to grace her warrior
+with. And if it were only shadows that beset
+him and obscured his finer heart, shadows
+they were of myrtle and rhododendron, with
+voices shrill and small as the sparrows', and
+eyes of the next-to-morning stars.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, these gardens whispered, and the
+wind at play in the air seemed to bear far-away
+music, dying and falling.</p>
+
+<p>We entered the house and sat down to
+supper in a low room open to the night.
+Reverie recounted our evening's talk. &quot;I
+wish,&quot; he said, turning to his friend, &quot;you
+would accompany Mr. Brocken and me one
+night to the 'World's End' to hear these
+fellows talk. Such arrogance, such assurance,
+such bigotry and blindness and foxiness!&mdash;yet,
+on my word, a kind of gravity with it all, as
+if the scarecrows had some real interest in the
+devil's tares they guard. Come now, let it be
+a bargain between us, and leave this endless
+search awhile.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the solitary knight shook his head.
+&quot;They would jeer me out of knowledge,&quot; he
+said. &quot;Why, Reverie, the children cease their
+play when I pass, and draw their tops and
+marbles out of the dust, and gaze till I am
+hid from sight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is fancy, only fancy,&quot; replied Reverie;
+&quot;children stare at all things new to them in
+the world. How else could they recognise
+and learn again&mdash;how else forget? But as for
+this rabble's mockery, there is a she-bear left
+called Oblivion which is their mistress, and
+will some day silence every jeer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The solitary knight shook his head again,
+eyeing me solemnly as if in hope to discern
+in my face the sorcery that held himself in
+thrall.</p>
+
+<p>The few wax tapers gave but light enough
+to find the way from goblet to mouth. As
+for Reverie's wine, I ask no other, for it had
+the poppy's scarlet, and overcame weariness
+so subtly I almost forgot these were the
+hours of sleep we spent in waking; forgot,
+too, as if of the lotus, all thought of effort
+and hope.</p>
+
+<p>After all, thought I as I sipped, effort is the
+flaw that proves men mortal; while as for
+hope, who would seek a seed that floats on
+every wind and smothers the world with weeds
+that bear no fruit? It was, in fact, fare very
+different from the ale and cheese of the
+&quot;World's End.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you yourself,&quot; I said to Mr. Reverie
+presently; &quot;in all the talk at the inn you kept
+a very scrupulous silence&mdash;discreet enough, I
+own. But now, what truly <i>was</i> this Christian
+of whom we heard so much? and why, may
+I ask, do his neighbours slander the dead?
+You yourselves, did you ever meet with
+him?&quot; I turned from one to the other of
+my companions as they glanced uneasily each
+at each.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, sir,&quot; said Reverie rather deliberately,
+&quot;I have met him and talked with him. I
+often think of him, in spite of myself. Yet he
+was a man of little charm. He certainly had
+a remarkable gift for estranging his friends.
+He was a foe to the most innocent compromise.
+For myself, I found not much
+humour in him, no eye for grace or art, and
+a limited imagination that was yet his absolute
+master. Nevertheless, as you hint, these
+fellows, no more than I, can forget him. Nor
+you?&quot; He turned to the other.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Christian,&quot; he replied, &quot;I remember him.
+We were friends a little while. Faithful I
+knew also. Faithful was to the last my friend.
+Ah! Reverie, then&mdash;how many years ago!&mdash;there
+was a child we loved, all three: do you
+remember? I see the low, green wall, cool
+from how many a summer's shadows, the
+clusters of green apples on the bough. And
+in the early morning we would go, carrying
+torn-off branches, and shouting our songs
+through the fields, till we came to the shadow
+and the hush of the woods. Ay, Reverie,
+and we would burst in on silence, each his
+heart beating, and play there. And perhaps
+it was Hopeful who would steal away from
+us, and the others play on; or perhaps you
+into the sunlight that maddened the sheltered
+bird to flit and sing in the orchard where
+the little child we loved played&mdash;not yet
+sad, but how much beloved; not yet weary
+of passing shadows, and simple creatures, and
+boy's rough gifts and cold hands. But I&mdash;with
+me it was ever evening, when the
+blackbird bursts harshly away. Then it was
+so still in the orchard, and in the curved
+bough so solitary, that the nightingale,
+cowering, would almost for fear begin to sing,
+and stoop to the bending of the bough, her
+sidelong eyes in shade; while the stars began
+to stand in the stations above us, ever bright,
+and all the night was peace. Then would I
+dream on&mdash;dream of the face I loved, Innocence,
+O Innocence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange outburst. His voice rose
+almost to a chant, full of a forlorn music.
+But even as he ceased, we heard in the
+following silence, above the plashing of the
+restless fountains, beyond, far and faint, a wild
+and stranger music welling. And I saw from
+the porch that looks out from the house called
+Gloom, &quot;La belle Dame sans Merci&quot; pass
+riding with her train, who rides in beauty
+beneath the huntress, heedless of disguise.
+Across from far away, like leaves of autumn,
+skirred the dappled deer. The music grew,
+timbrel and pipe and tabor, as beneath the
+glances of the moon the little company sped,
+transient as a rainbow, elusive as a dream.
+I saw her maidens bound and sandalled, with
+all their everlasting flowers; and advancing
+soundless, unreal, the silver wheels of that
+unearthly chariot amid the Fauns. On, on
+they gamboled, hoof in yielding turf, blowing
+reed melodies, mocking water, their lips laid
+sidelong, their eyes aleer along the smoothness
+of their flutes.</p>
+
+<p>And when I turned again to my companions,
+with I know not what old folly in
+my eyes, I know not what unanswerable cry in
+my heart, Reverie alone was at my side. I
+seemed to see the long fringes of the lake,
+the sedge withered, the grey waters restless in
+the bonds of the wind, tuneless and chill; all
+these happy gardens swept bare and flowerless;
+and the far hills silent in the unattainable dawn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She pipes, he follows,&quot; said Reverie; &quot;she
+sets the tune, he dances. Yet, sir, on my
+soul, I believe it is the childish face of that
+same Innocence we kept tryst with long ago
+he pursues on and on, through what sad
+labyrinths we, who dream not so wildly,
+cannot by taking thought come to guess.&quot;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The next two days passed serenely and
+quietly at Reverie's. We read together,
+rode, walked, and talked together, and
+listened in the evening to music. For a
+sister of Reverie's lived not far distant, who
+visited him while I was there, and took
+supper with us, delighting us with her wit
+and spirit and her youthful voice.</p>
+
+<p>But though Reverie more than once
+suggested it, I could not bring myself to
+return to the &quot;World's End&quot; and its
+garrulous company. Whether it was the
+moist, grey face of Mr. Cruelty I most
+abhorred, or Stubborn's slug-like eye, or
+the tongue-stump of my afflicted guide, I
+cannot say.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, I had begun to feel a very
+keen curiosity to see the way that had
+lured Christian on with such graceless
+obstinacy. They had spoken of remorse,
+poverty, pride, world-failure, even insanity,
+even vice: but these appeared to me only
+such things as might fret a man to set
+violently out on, not to persist in such
+a course; or likelier yet, to abandon hope,
+to turn back from heights that trouble
+or confusion set so far, and made seem
+dreams.</p>
+
+<p>How could I help, too, being amused to
+think how vastly strange these fellows considered
+a man's venturing whither his star
+beckoned; though that star were only power,
+only fame, only beauty, only peace? What
+wonder they were many?</p>
+
+<p>Not far from this place, Reverie informed
+me, were pitched the booths of Vanity Fair.
+This, by his account, was a place one ought
+to visit, if only for the satisfaction of leaving
+it behind. But I have heard more animated
+accounts of it elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>As for Reverie himself, he seemed only
+desirous to contemplate; never to taste, to
+win, or to handle. He needed but refuse
+reality to what shocked or teased him, to
+find it harmless and entertaining. He was
+a dreamer whom the heat and shout of
+battle could not offend.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps he perceived my restlessness to be
+gone, for he himself suggested that I should
+stay till the next morning, and then, if I
+so pleased, he would see me a mile or two
+on my way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For the Pitiless Lady,&quot; he said, smiling,
+&quot;takes many disguises, sometimes of the sun,
+sometimes of evening, sometimes of night;
+and I would at least save you from the fate
+that has made my poor friend a phantom
+before he is a shade.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII" ></a>XII</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>The many men, so beautiful!</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>And they all dead did lie.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;S.T. Coleridge.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>So Reverie, as he had promised, rode out
+with me a few miles to see me on my way.
+Above the gloom and stillness of the valley
+the scene began to change again. I was
+glad as I could be to view once more the
+tossing cornfields and the wind at play with
+shadow. Near and far, woods and pastures
+smoked beneath the sun. I know not
+through how many arches of the elms and
+green folds of the meadows I kept watch
+on the chimneys of a farmhouse above its
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>But Reverie, the further we journeyed,
+the less he said. I almost chafed to see his
+heedless eyes turned upon some inward
+dream, while here, like life itself, stood cloud
+and oak, warbled bird and brook beneath
+the burning sun. I saw again in memory
+the silver twilight of the moon, and the
+crazy face of Love's Warrior, haunter of
+shade. Let him but venture into the open,
+I thought, hear again the distant lowing of
+the oxen, the rooks cawing in the elms,
+see again the flocks upon the hillside!</p>
+
+<p>I suppose this was her home my heart
+had turned to. This was my dust; night's
+was his. For me the wild rose and the
+fields of harvest; for him closed petals, the
+chantry of the night wind, phantom lutes
+and voices. And, as if he had overheard
+my thoughts, Reverie turned at the cross-ways.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will come back again,&quot; he said.
+&quot;They tell me in distant lands men worship
+Time, set up a shrine to him in every
+street, and treasure his emblem next their
+hearts. There, they say, even the lover
+babbles of hours, and the dreamer measures
+sleep with a pendulum. Well, my house is
+secluded, and the world is far; and to me
+Time is naught. Return, sir, then, when it
+pleases you. Besides,&quot; he added, smiling
+faintly, &quot;there is always company at the
+World's End.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The crisp sunbeams rained upon his pale
+and delicate horse, its equal-plaited mane,
+on the darkness of his cloak, that dream-delighted
+face. Here smouldered gold, here
+flushed crimson, and here the curved
+damaskening of his bridle glistened and
+gleamed. He was a strange visitant to the
+open day, between the green hedges, beneath
+the enormous branching of the elms. And
+there I bade him farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Some day, perhaps, I shall return as he
+has foretold, for it is ever easy to find again
+the house of Reverie&mdash;to them who have
+learned the way.</p>
+
+<p>On I journeyed, then, following as I had
+been directed the main road to Vanity Fair.
+But whether it is that the Fair is more
+difficult to arrive at than to depart from,
+or is really a hard day's journey even from
+the gay parlour of the World's End, it
+already began to be evening, and yet no
+sign of bunting or booth or clamour or
+smoke.</p>
+
+<p>And it was at length to a noiseless Fair,
+far from all vanity, that I came at sunset&mdash;the
+cypresses of a solitary graveyard. I was
+tired out and desired only rest; so dismounting
+and leading Rosinante, I turned
+aside willingly into its peace.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed I had entered a new earth.
+The lane above had wandered on in the
+gloaming of its hedges and over-arching
+trees. Here, all the clouds of sunset stood,
+caught up in burning gold. Even as I
+paused, dazzled a moment by the sudden
+radiance, from height to height the wild
+bright rose of evening ran. Not a tottering
+stone, black, well-nigh shapeless with age,
+not a green bush, but seemed to dwell unconsumed
+in its own fire above this desolate
+ground. The trees that grew around me&mdash;willow
+and yew, thorn and poplar&mdash;were
+but flaming cages for the wild birds that
+perched in their branches.</p>
+
+<p>Above these sound-dulled mansions trod
+lightly, as if of thought, Rosinante's gilded
+shoes. I wandered on in a strange elation
+of mind, filled with a desperate desire ever
+to remember how flamed this rose between
+earth and sky, how throbbed this jargon of
+delight. And turning as if in hope to share
+my enthusiasm, a childish peal of laughter
+showed me I was not alone.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath a canopy of holly branches and
+yew two children sat playing. The nearer
+child's hair was golden, glistening round his
+face of roses, and he it was who had laughed,
+tumbling on the sward. But the face of
+the further child was white almost as crystal,
+and the dark hair that encircled his head
+with its curved lines seemed as it were the
+shadow of the gold it showed beside. These
+children, it was plain, had been running and
+playing across the tombs; but now they
+were stooping together at some earnest
+sport. To me, even if they had seen me,
+they as yet paid no heed.</p>
+
+<p>I passed slowly towards them, deeming
+them at first of solitude's creation, my eyes
+dazzled so with the sun. But as I approached,
+so the branches beneath which
+they played gradually disparted, and I saw
+not far distant from them one sitting
+who evidently had these jocund boys in
+charge.</p>
+
+<p>I could not but hesitate awhile as I surveyed
+them. These were no mortal children
+playing naked amid the rose of evening:
+nor she who sat veiled and beautiful
+beneath the ruinous tombs. I turned with
+sudden dismay to depart from their presence
+unobserved as I had entered; but the
+children had now espied me, and came
+running, filled with wonder of Rosinante and
+the stranger beside her.</p>
+
+<p>They stayed at a little distance from us
+with dwelling eyes and parted lips. Then
+the fairer and, as it seemed to me, elder of
+the brothers stooped and plucked a few
+blades of grass and proffered them, half
+fearfully, to the beast that amazed him.
+But the other gave less heed to Rosinante,
+fixed the filmy lustre of his eyes on me,
+his wonderful young face veiled with that
+wisdom which is in all children, and of an
+immutable gravity.</p>
+
+<p>But by this time, she who it seemed had
+the charge of these children had followed
+them with her eyes. To her then, leaving
+Rosinante in an ecstasy of timidity before
+such god-like boys, I addressed myself.</p>
+
+<p>So might a traveller lost beneath strange
+stars address unanswering Night. She, however,
+raised a compassionate face to me
+and listened with happy seriousness as to a
+child returned in safety at evening from
+some foolhardy venture. Yet there seemed
+only a deeper youthfulness in her face for
+all its eternity of brooding on her beauteous
+children. Narrow leaves of olive formed her
+chaplet. The darker wine-colours of the sea
+changed in her eyes. There was no sense
+of gloom or sorrowfulness in her company.
+I began to see how the same still breast
+might bear celestial children so diverse as
+these, whose names, she told me presently,
+were Sleep and Death.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at the two children at play,
+&quot;Ah! now,&quot; I said, almost involuntarily
+&quot;the golden boy who has caught my horse's
+bridle in his hand, is not he Sleep? and he
+who considers his brother's boldness&mdash;that
+one is Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled with lovely vanity, and told
+me how strange of heart young children
+are. How they will alter and vary, never
+the same for long together, but led by
+indiscoverable caprices and obedient to some
+further will. She smiled and said how that
+sometimes, when the birds hush suddenly
+from song, Sleep would creep tenderly and
+sadly to her knees, and Death clasp her
+roguishly, as if in some secret with the
+beams of morning. So would they change,
+one to the likeness of the other. But Sleep
+was, perhaps, of the gentler disposition; a
+little obstinate and headstrong; at times,
+indeed, beyond all cajolery; yet very sweet
+of impulse and ardent to make amends.
+But Death's caprices baffled even her. He
+seemed now so pitiless and unlovely of
+heart; and now, as if possessed, passionate
+and swift; and now would break away
+burning from her arms in an infinite
+tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>But best she loved them when there came
+a transient peace to both; and looking upon
+them laid embraced in the shadow-casting
+moonbeam, not even she could undoubtingly
+touch the brow of each beneath their likened
+hair, and say this is the elder, and this the
+dreamless younger of the boys.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing, too, my eyes cast upon the
+undecipherable letters of the tomb by which
+we sat, she told me how that once, near
+before dawn, she had awoke in the twilight
+to find their places empty where the children
+had lain at her side, and had sought on, at
+last to find them even here, weeping and
+quarrelling, and red with anger. Little by
+little, and with many tears, she had gleaned
+the cause of their quarrel&mdash;how that, like
+very children, they had run a race at
+cockcrow, and all these stones and the
+slender bones and ashes beneath to be the
+prize; and how that, running, both had
+come together to the goal set, and both
+had claimed the victory.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet both seem happy now to share it,&quot;
+I said, &quot;or how else were they comforted?&quot;
+Nor did I consider before she told me
+that they will run again when they be
+grown men, Sleep and Death, in just such
+a thick darkness before dawn; and one
+called Love will then run with them, who
+is very vehement and fleet of foot, and
+never turns aside, nor falters. He who then
+shall win may ask a different prize. For
+truth to tell, she said, only children can find
+delight for long in dust and ruin.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Death himself came
+hastening to his mother, and, taking her
+hand, turned to the enormous picture of
+the skies as if in some faint apprehension.
+But Sleep saw nothing amiss, lay at full
+length among the &quot;cool-rooted flowers,&quot;
+while Rosinante grazed beside him.</p>
+
+<p>I told her also, in turn, of my journey;
+and that although transient, or everlasting,
+solace of all restlessness and sorrow and too-wild
+happiness may be found in them, yet
+men think not often on these divine children.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As for this one,&quot; I said, looking down
+into the pathless beauty of Death's grey
+eyes, &quot;some fear, some mock, some despise
+him; some violently, some without complaint
+pursue; most men would altogether
+dismiss, and forget him. He is but a
+child, no older than the sea, no stranger
+than the mountains, pure and cold as the
+water-springs. Yet to the bolster of fever
+his vision flits; and pain drags a heavy
+net to snare him; and silence is his echoing
+gallery; and the gold of Sleep his final veil.
+They shall play on; and see, lady, flame has
+left the clouds; the birds are at rest. The
+earth breathes in, and it is day; and exhales
+her breath, and it is night. Let them then
+play secret and innocent between her breasts,
+comfort her with silence above the tempest
+of her heart.... But I!&mdash;what am I?&mdash;a
+traveller, footsore and far.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And then it was that I became conscious
+of a warm, sly, youthful hand in mine, and
+turned, half in dread, to see only happy
+Sleep laughing under his glistening hair into
+my eyes. I strove in vain against his
+sorcery; rolled foolish orbs on that pure,
+starry face; and then I smelled as it were
+rain, and heard as it were tempestuous
+forest-trees&mdash;fell asleep among the tombs.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII" ></a>XIII</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>I warmed both hands before the fire of life.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>Surely some hueless poppy blossomed in
+the darkness of those ruins, or the soulless
+ashes of the dead breathe out a drowsy
+influence. Never have I slept so heavily,
+yet never perhaps beneath so cold a tester.
+Sunbeams streaming between the crests of
+the cypresses awoke me. I leapt up as if a
+hundred sentinels had shouted&mdash;where none
+kept visible watch.</p>
+
+<p>An odour of a languid sweetness pervaded
+the air. There was no wind to stir the
+dew-besprinkled trees. The old, scarred
+gravestones stood in a thick sunshine, afloat
+with bees. But Rosinante had preferred to
+survey sunshine out of shade. In lush grass
+I found her, the picture of age, foot crook'd,
+and head dejected.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she followed me uncomplaining along
+these narrow avenues of silence, and without
+more ado turned her trivial tail on Death
+and his dim flocks, and well-nigh scampered
+me off into the vivid morning. Soon afterwards,
+with Hunger in the saddle, we began
+to climb a road almost precipitous, and
+stony in the extreme. Often enough we
+breathed ourselves as best we could in the
+still, sultry air, and rested on the sun-dappled
+slopes. But at length we came out
+upon the crest, and surveyed in the first
+splendour of day a region of extraordinary
+grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath a clear sky to the east stood a
+range of mountains, cold and changeless
+beneath their snows. At my feet a great
+river flowed, broken here and there with
+isles in the bright flood. The dark champaign
+that flanked its shores was of an unusual
+verdure. Mystery and peril brooded on
+those distant ravines, the vapours of their
+far-descending cataracts. In such abysmal
+fastnesses as these the Hyrcan tiger might
+hide his surly generations. This was an air
+for the sun-disdaining eagle, a country of
+transcendent brightness, its flowers strangely
+pure and perfect, its waters more limpid, its
+grazing herds, its birds, its cedar trees, the
+masters of their kind.</p>
+
+<p>Yet not on these nearer glories my eyes
+found rest. But, with a kind of heartache,
+I gazed, as it were towards home, upon the
+distant waters of the sea. Here, on the
+crest of this green hill, was silence. There,
+too, was profounder silence on the sea's
+untrampled floor. Whence comes that angel
+out of nought whispering into the ear strange
+syllables? I know not; but so seemed I to
+stand&mdash;a shattered instrument in the world,
+past all true music, o'er which none the less
+the invisible lute-master stooped. Could I
+but catch, could I but in words express the
+music his bent fingers intended, the mystery,
+the peace&mdash;well; then I should indeed
+journey solitary on the face of the earth,
+a changeling in its cities.</p>
+
+<p>I half feared to descend into a country
+so diverse from any I had yet seen.
+Hitherto at least I had encountered little
+else than friendliness. But here&mdash;doves in
+eyries! I stood, twisting my fingers in
+Rosinante's mane, debating and debating.
+And she turned her face to me, and looked
+with age into my eyes: and I know not
+how woke courage in me again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On then?&quot; I said, on the height. And
+the gentle beast leaned forward and coughed
+into the valley what might indeed be
+&quot;Yea!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So we began to descend. Down we went,
+alone, yet not unhappy, until in a while
+I discovered, about a hundred yards in
+advance of me, another traveller on the
+road, ambling easily along at an equal pace
+with mine. I know not how far I followed
+in his track debating whether to overtake
+and to accost him, or to follow on till a
+more favourable chance offered.</p>
+
+<p>But Chance&mdash;avenger of all shilly-shally&mdash;settled
+the matter offhand. For my traveller,
+after casting one comprehensive glance
+towards the skies, suddenly whisked off at a
+canter that quickly carried him out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>A chill wind had begun to blow, lifting
+in gusts dust into the air and whitening
+the tree-tops. As suddenly, calm succeeded.
+A cloud of flies droned fretfully about my
+ears. And I watched advancing, league-high,
+transfigured with sunbeams, the
+enormous gloom of storm. The sun smote
+from a silvery haze upon its peaks and
+gorges. Wind, far above the earth, moaned,
+and fell; only to sound once more in the
+distance in a mournful trumpeting. Lightnings
+played along the desolate hills. The
+sun was darkened. A vast flight of snowy,
+arrow-winged birds streamed voiceless beneath
+his place. And day withdrew its boundaries,
+spread to the nearer forests a bright
+amphitheatre, fitful with light, whereof it
+seemed to me Rosinante with her poor
+burden was the centre and the butt. I
+confess I began to dread lest even my
+mere surmise of danger should engage the
+piercing lightnings; as if in the mystery of
+life storm and a timorous thought might
+yet be of a kin.</p>
+
+<p>We hastened on at the most pathetic of
+gallops. Nor seemed indeed the beauteous
+lightning to regard at all that restless mote
+upon the cirque of its entranced fairness.
+In an instantaneous silence I heard a tiny
+beat of hoofs; in instantaneous gloom
+recognised almost with astonishment my
+own shape bowed upon the saddle. It
+was a majestic entry into a kingdom so
+far-famed.</p>
+
+<p>The storm showed no abatement when at
+last I found shelter. From far away I had
+espied in the immeasurable glare a country
+barn beneath trees. Arrived there, I almost
+fell off my horse into as incongruous and
+lighthearted a company as ever was seen.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of the floor of the barn,
+upon a heap of hay, sat a fool in
+motley blowing with all his wind into a
+pipe. It was a cunning tune he played
+too, rich and heady. And so seemed the
+company to find it, dancers&mdash;some thirty or
+more&mdash;capering round him with all the
+abandon heart can feel and heel can
+answer to. As for pose, he whose horse
+now stood smoking beside my own first
+drew my attention&mdash;a smooth, small-bearded,
+solemn man, a little beyond his prime. He
+lifted his toes with such inimitable agility,
+postured his fingers so daintily, conducted
+his melon-belly with so much elegance, and
+exhaled such a warm joy in the sport that
+I could look at nothing else at first for
+delight in him.</p>
+
+<p>But there were slim maids too among the
+plumper and ruddier, like crocuses, like
+lilac, like whey, with all their fragrance
+and freshness and lightness. Such eyes
+adazzle dancing with mine, such nimble and
+discreet ankles, such gimp English middles,
+and such a gay delight in the mere grace
+of the lilting and tripping beneath rafters
+ringing loud with thunder, that Pan himself
+might skip across a hundred furrows for
+sheer envy to witness.</p>
+
+<p>As for the jolly rustics that were jogging
+their wits away with such delightful gravity,
+but little time was given me to admire
+them ere I also was snatched into the ring,
+and found brown eyes dwelling with mine,
+and a hand like lettuces in the dog-days.
+Round and about we skipped in the golden
+straw, amidst treasuries of hay, puffing and
+spinning. And the quiet lightnings quivered
+between the beams, and the monstrous
+&quot;Ah!&quot; of the thunder submerged the pipe's
+sweetness. Till at last all began to gasp
+and blow indeed, and the nodding Fool to
+sip, and sip, as if <i>in extremis</i> over his
+mouthpiece. Then we rested awhile, with
+a medley of shrill laughter and guffaws,
+while the rain streamed lightning-lit upon
+the trees and tore the clouds to tatters.</p>
+
+<p>With some little circumstance my
+traveller picked his way to me, and with
+a grave civility bowed me a sort of general
+welcome. Whereupon ensued such wit and
+banter as made me thankful when the
+opening impudence of a kind of jig set
+the heels and the petticoats of the company
+tossing once more. We danced the lightning
+out, and piped the thunder from the
+skies. And by then I was so faint with
+fasting, and so deep in love with at least
+five young country faces, that I scarcely
+knew head from heels; still less, when a
+long draught of a kind of thin, sweet ale
+had mounted to its sphere.</p>
+
+<p>Away we all trooped over the flashing
+fields, noisy as jays in the fresh, sweet air,
+some to their mowing, some to their milking,
+but more, indeed, I truly suspect, to that
+exquisite <i>Nirvana</i> from which the tempest's
+travail had aroused them. I waved my
+hand, striving in vain to keep my eyes on
+one blest, beguiling face of all that glanced
+behind them. But, she gone, I turned
+into the rainy lane once more with my new
+acquaintance, discreeter, but not less giddy,
+it seemed, than I.</p>
+
+<p>We had not far to go&mdash;past a meadow
+or two, a low green wall, a black fish-pool&mdash;and
+soon the tumbledown gables of
+a house came into view. My companion
+waved his open fingers at the crooked
+casements and peered into my face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; he said, &quot;we will talk, we will
+talk, you and I: I view it in your eye,
+sir&mdash;clear and full and profound&mdash;such ever
+goes with eloquence. 'Tis my delight.
+What are we else than beasts?&mdash;beasts that
+perish? I never tire; I never weary;&mdash;give
+me to dance and to sing, but ever to talk:
+then am I at ease. Heaven is just. Enter,
+sir&mdash;enter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He led me by a shady alley into his
+orchard, and thence to a stable, where we
+left Rosinante at hob-a-nob with his mare
+over a friendly bottle of hay. And we ourselves
+passed into the house, and ascended
+a staircase into an upper chamber. This
+chamber was raftered, its walls hung with
+an obscure tapestry, its floor strewn with
+sand, and its lozenged casement partly
+shuttered against the blaze of sunshine that
+flowed across the forests far away to the west.</p>
+
+<p>My friend eyed me brightly and busily as
+a starling. &quot;You danced fine, sir,&quot; he said.
+&quot;Oh! it is a <i>pleasure</i> to me. Ay, and now
+I come to consider it, methought I did
+hear hoofs behind me that might yet be
+echo. No, but I did <i>not</i> think: 'twas but
+my ear cried to his dreaming master. Ever
+dreaming; God help at last the awakening!
+But well met, well met, I say again. I am
+cheered. And you but just in time! Nay,
+I would not have missed him for a ransom.
+So&mdash;so&mdash;this leg, that leg; up now&mdash;hands
+over down we go! Lackaday, I am old
+bones for such freaks. Once!... '<i>Memento
+mori</i>!' say I, and smell the shower the
+sweeter for it. Be seated, sir, bench or
+stool, wheresoever you'd be. You're looking
+peaked. That burden rings in my skull
+like a bagpipe. Toot-a-tootie, toot-a-toot!
+Och, sad days!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>We devoured our meal of cold meats
+and pickled fish, fruit and junket and a kind
+of harsh cheese, as if in contest for a wager.
+And copious was the thin spicy wine with
+which we swam it home. Ever and again
+my host would desist, to whistle, or croon
+(with a packed mouth) in the dismallest of
+tenors, a stave or two of the tune we had
+danced to, bobbing head and foot in sternest
+time. Then a great vacancy would overspread
+his face turned to the window, as
+suddenly to gather to a cheerful smile, and
+light, irradiated, once more on me. Then
+down would drop his chin over his plate,
+and away go finger and spoon among his
+victuals in a dance as brisk and whole-hearted
+as the other.</p>
+
+<p>He took me out again into his garden
+after supper, and we walked beneath the
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis bliss to be a bachelor, sir,&quot; he said,
+gazing on the resinous trunk of an old
+damson tree. &quot;I gorge, I guzzle; I am
+merry, am melancholy; studious, harmonical,
+drowsy,&mdash;and none to scold or deny me.
+For the rest, why, youth is vain: yet youth
+had pleasure&mdash;innocence and delight. I
+chew the cud of many a peaceful acre.
+Ay, I have nibbled roses in my time. But
+now, what now? I have lived so long
+far from courts and courtesy, grace and
+fashion, and am so much my own close
+and indifferent friend&mdash;Why! he is happy
+who has solitude for housemate, company for
+guest. I say it, I say it; I marry daily
+wives of memory's fashioning, and dream at
+peace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It seemed an old bone he picked with
+Destiny.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's much to be said,&quot; I replied as
+profoundly as I could.</p>
+
+<p>The air he now lulled youth asleep with
+was a very cheerless threnody, but he
+brightened once more at praise of his delightful
+orchard.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You like it, sir? You speak kindly, sir.
+It is my all; root and branch: how many
+a summer's moons have I seen shine hereon!
+I know it&mdash;there is bliss to come;&mdash;miraculous
+Paradise for men even dull
+as I. Yet 'twill be strange to me&mdash;without
+my house and orchard. Age tends
+to earth, sir, till even an odour may awake
+the dead&mdash;a branch in the air call with its
+fluttering a face beyond Time to vanquish
+dear. 'Soul, soul,' I cry, 'forget thy dust,
+forget thy vaunting ashes!'&mdash;and speak in
+vain. So's life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>And when we had gone in again, and
+candles had been lit in his fresh and narrow
+chamber, seeing a viol upon a chest, I
+begged a little music.</p>
+
+<p>He quite eagerly, with a boyish peal of
+laughter, complied; and sat down with a
+very solemn face, his brows uplifted, and
+sang between the candles to a pathetic air
+this doggerel:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>There's a dark tree and a sad tree,<br /></span>
+<span>Where sweet Alice waits, unheeded,<br /></span>
+<span>For her lover long-time absent,<br /></span>
+<span>Plucking rushes by the river.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Let the bird sing, let the buck sport,<br /></span>
+<span>Let the sun sink to his setting;<br /></span>
+<span>Not one star that stands in darkness<br /></span>
+<span>Shines upon her absent lover.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>But his stone lies 'neath the dark tree,<br /></span>
+<span>Cold to bosom, deaf to weeping;<br /></span>
+<span>And 'tis gathering moss she touches,<br /></span>
+<span>Where the locks lay of her lover.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>&quot;A dolesome thing,&quot; he said; &quot;but my
+mother was wont to sing it to the virginals.
+'Cold to bosom,'&quot; he reiterated with a
+plangent cadence; &quot;I remember them all,
+sir; from the cradle I had a gift for music.&quot;
+And then, with an ample flirt of his bow,
+he broke, all beams and smiles, into this
+ingenuous ditty:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span>The goodman said,<br /></span>
+<span>&quot;'Tis time for bed,<br /></span>
+<span>Come, mistress, get us quick to pray;<br /></span>
+<span>Call in the maids<br /></span>
+<span>From out the glades<br /></span>
+<span>Where they with lovers stray,<br /></span>
+<span>With love, and love do stray.&quot;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;Nay, master mine,<br /></span>
+<span>The night is fine,<br /></span>
+<span>And time's enough all dark to pray;<br /></span>
+<span>'Tis April buds<br /></span>
+<span>Bedeck the woods<br /></span>
+<span>Where simple maids away<br /></span>
+<span>With love, and love do stray.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&quot;Now we are old,<br /></span>
+<span>And nigh the mould,<br /></span>
+<span>'Tis meet on feeble knees to pray;<br /></span>
+<span>When once we'd roam,<br /></span>
+<span>'Twas else cried, 'Come,<br /></span>
+<span>And sigh the dusk away,<br /></span>
+<span>With love, and love to stray.'&quot;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>So they gat in<br /></span>
+<span>To pray till nine;<br /></span>
+<span>Then called, &quot;Come maids, true maids, away!<br /></span>
+<span>Kiss and begone,<br /></span>
+<span>Ha' done, ha' done,<br /></span>
+<span>Until another day<br /></span>
+<span>With love, and love to stray!&quot;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>Oh, it were best<br /></span>
+<span>If so to rest<br /></span>
+<span>Went man and maid in peace away!<br /></span>
+<span>The throes a heart<br /></span>
+<span>May make to smart<br /></span>
+<span>Unless love have his way,<br /></span>
+<span>In April woods to stray!&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>In April woods to stray!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And that finished with another burst of
+laughter, he set very adroitly to the mimicry
+of beasts and birds upon his frets. Never
+have I seen a face so consummately the
+action's. His every fibre answered to the
+call; his eyebrows twitched like an orator's;
+his very nose was plastic.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hst!&quot; he cried softly; &quot;hither struts
+chanticleer!&quot; &quot;Cock-a-diddle-doo!&quot; crowed
+the wire. &quot;Now, prithee, Dame Partlett!&quot;
+and down bustled a hen from an egg like
+cinnamon. A cat with kittens mewed along
+the string, anxious and tender.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A woodpecker,&quot; he cried, directing
+momentarily a sedulous, clear eye on me.
+And lo, &quot;inviolable quietness&quot; and the
+smooth beech-boughs! &quot;And thus,&quot; he said,
+sitting closer, &quot;the martlets were wont to
+whimper about the walls of the castle of
+Inverness, the castle of Macbeth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Macbeth!&quot; I repeated&mdash;&quot;Macbeth!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ay,&quot; he said, &quot;it was his seat while yet
+a simple soldier&mdash;flocks and flocks of them,
+wheeling hither, thither, in the evening air,
+crying and calling.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I listened in a kind of confusion. &quot;... And
+Duncan,&quot; I said....</p>
+
+<p>He eyed me with immense pleasure, and
+nodded with brilliant eyes on mine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What looking man was he?&quot; I said at
+last as carelessly as I dared. &quot;... The
+King, you mean,&mdash;of Scotland.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He magnanimously ignored my confusion,
+and paused to build his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Duncan'?&quot; he said. &quot;The question
+calls him straight to mind. A lean-locked,
+womanish countenance; sickly, yet never
+sick; timid, yet most obdurate; more sly
+than politic. An <i>ignis fatuus</i>, sir, in a
+world of soldiers.&quot; His eye wandered....
+&quot;'Twas a marvellous sanative air, crisp and
+pure; but for him, one draught and outer
+darkness. I myself viewed his royal entry
+from the gallery&mdash;pacing urbane to slaughter;
+and I uttered a sigh to see him. 'Why,
+sir, do you sigh to see the king?' cried one
+softly that stood by. 'I sigh, my lord,' I
+answered to the instant, 'at sight of a
+monarch even Duncan's match!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He looked his wildest astonishment at me.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not, I'd have you remember&mdash;not that
+'twas blood I did foresee.... To kill in
+blood a man, and he a king, so near to
+natural death ... foul, foul!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Macbeth?&quot; I said presently&mdash;&quot;Macbeth...?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laid down his viol with prolonged care.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;His was a soul, sir, nobler than his fate.
+I followed him not without love from boyhood&mdash;a
+youth almost too fine of spirit;
+shrinking from all violence, over-nicely;
+eloquent, yet chary of speech, and of a dark
+profundity of thought. The questions he
+would patter!&mdash;unanswerable, searching earth
+and heaven through.... And who now
+was it told me the traitor Judas's hair was
+red?&mdash;yet not red his, but of a reddish
+chestnut, fine and bushy. Children have
+played their harmless hands at hide-and-seek
+therein. O sea of many winds!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For come gloom on the hills, floods,
+discolouring mist; breathe but some grandam's
+tale of darkness and blood and
+doubleness in his hearing: all changed.
+Flame kindled; a fevered unrest drove him
+out; and Ambition, that spotted hound of
+hell, strained at the leash towards the Pit.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So runs the world&mdash;the ardent and the
+lofty. We are beyond earth's story as 'tis
+told, sir. All's shallower than the heart of
+man.... Indeed, 'twas one more shattered
+altar to Hymen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Hymen!'&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>He brooded long and silently, clipping his
+small beard. And while he was so brooding,
+a mouse, a moth, dust&mdash;I know not what,
+stirred the listening strings of his viol to
+sound, and woke him with a start.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I vowed, sir, then, to dismiss all memory
+of such unhappy deeds from mind&mdash;never
+to speak again that broken lady's name.
+Oh! I have seen sad ends&mdash;pride abased,
+splendour dismantled, courage to terror
+come, guilt to a crying guilelessness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Guilelessness?'&quot; I said. &quot;Lady Macbeth
+at least was past all changing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor stood up and cast a deep
+scrutiny on me, which yet, perhaps, was
+partly on himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perceive, sir,&quot; he said, &quot;this table&mdash;broader,
+longer, splendidly burdened; and all
+adown both sides the board, thanes and their
+ladies, lords, and gentlemen, guests bidden
+to a royal banquet. 'Twas then in that
+bleak and dismal country&mdash;the Palace of
+Forres. Torches flared in the hall; to every
+man a servant or two: we sat in pomp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He paused again, and gravely withdrew
+behind the tapestry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And presently,&quot; he cried therefrom,
+suiting his action to the word, &quot;to the blast
+of hautboys enters the king in state thus,
+with his attendant lords. And with all
+that rich and familiar courtesy of which
+he was master in his easier moods he
+passed from one to another, greeting with
+supple dignity on his way, till he came at
+last softly to the place prepared for him
+at table. And suddenly&mdash;shall I ever
+forget, it, sir?&mdash;it seemed silence ran like a
+flame from mouth to mouth as there he
+stood, thus, marble-still, his eyes fixed in
+a leaden glare. And he raised his face and
+looked once round on us all with a forlorn
+astonishment and wrath, like one with a
+death-wound&mdash;I never saw the like of such
+a face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whereat, beseeching us to be calm, and
+pay no heed, the queen laid her hand on
+his and called him. And his orbs rolled
+down once more upon the empty place, and
+stuck as if at grapple with some horror seen
+within. He muttered aloud in peevish
+altercation&mdash;once more to heave up his
+frame, to sigh and shake himself, and lo!&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The viol-strings rang to his &quot;lo!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lo, sir, the Unseen had conquered. His
+lip sagged into his beard, he babbled with
+open mouth, and leaned on his lady with
+such an impotent and slavish regard as I
+hope never to see again man pay to
+woman.... We thought no more of supper
+after that....</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But what do I&mdash;?&quot; The doctor laid
+a cautioning finger on his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The company was dispersed, the palace
+gloomy with night (and they were black
+nights at Forres!), and on the walls I heard
+the sentinel's replying.... In the wood's last
+glow I entered and stood in his self-same
+station before the empty stool. And even
+as I stood thus, my hair creeping, my will
+concentred, gazing with every cord at
+stretch, fell a light, light footfall behind
+me.&quot; He glanced whitely over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sir, it was the queen come softly out of
+slumber on my own unquiet errand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor strode to the door, and peered
+out like a man suspicious or guilty of
+treachery. It was indeed a house of broken
+silences. And there, in the doorway, he
+seemed to be addressing his own saddened
+conscience.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With all my skill, and all a leal man's
+gentleness, I solaced and persuaded, and
+made an oath, and conducted her back to
+her own chamber unperceived. How weak
+is sleep!... It was a habit, sir, contracted
+in childhood, long dormant, that Evil
+had woke again. The Past awaits us all.
+So run Time's sands, till mercy's globe is
+empty and ...&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He stooped and whispered it across to
+me: &quot;... A child, a comparative child,
+shrunk to an anatomy, her beauty changed,
+ghostly of youth and all its sadness, baffled
+by a word, slave to a doctor's nod! None
+knew but I, and, at the last, one of her
+ladies&mdash;a gentle, faithful, and fearful creature.
+Nor she till far beyond all mischief....</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wild deeds are done. But to have blood
+on the hands, a cry in the ears, and one
+same glassy face eye to eye, that nothing
+can dim, nor even slumber pacify&mdash;dreams,
+dreams, intangible, enorm! Forefend them,
+God, from me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He stood a moment as if he were
+listening; then turned, smiling irresolutely,
+and eyed me aimlessly. He seemed afraid
+of his own house, askance at his own
+furniture. Yet, though I scarce know why,
+I felt he had not told me the whole truth.
+Something fidelity had yet withheld from
+vanity. I longed to enquire further. I put
+aside how many burning questions awhile!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV" ></a>XIV</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>And if we gang to sea, master,</i><br /></span>
+<span><i>I fear we'll come to harm.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;OLD BALLAD.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>By and by less anxious talk soothed him.
+Indeed it was he who suggested one last
+bright draught of air beneath his trees before
+retiring. Down we went again with some
+unnecessary clatter. And here were stars
+between the fruited boughs, silvery Capella
+and the Twins, and low on the sky's moonlit
+border Venus excellently bright.</p>
+
+<p>He asked me whither I proposed going, if
+I needs must go; besought there and then in
+the ambrosial night-air the history of my
+wanderings&mdash;a mere nine days' wonder; and
+told me how he himself much feared and
+hated the sea.</p>
+
+<p>He questioned me also with not a little
+subtilty (and double-dealing too, I fancied,)
+regarding my own country, and of things
+present, and things real. In fact nothing,
+I think, so much flattered his vanity&mdash;unless
+it was my wonder at Dame Partlett's
+clucking on his viol-strings&mdash;as to learn himself
+was famous even so far as to ages yet
+unborn. He gazed on the simple moon
+with limpid, amiable eyes, and caught my
+fingers in his.</p>
+
+<p>How, then, could I even so much as hint
+to enquire which century indeed was his,
+who had no need of any? How could I
+abash that kindly vanity of his by adding
+also that, however famous, he must needs
+be to all eternity&mdash;nameless?</p>
+
+<p>We conversed long and earnestly in the
+coolness. He very frankly counselled me not
+to venture unconducted further into this
+country. The land of Tragedy was broad.
+And though on this side it lay adjacent
+to the na&iuml;ve and civil people of Comedy;
+on the further, in the shadow of those
+bleak, unfooted mountains, lurked unnatural
+horror and desolation, and cruelty beyond all
+telling.</p>
+
+<p>He very kindly offered me too, if I was
+indeed bent on seeking the sea, an old boat,
+still seaworthy, that lay in a creek in the river
+near by, from which he was wont to fish.
+As for Rosinante, he supposed a rest would
+be by no means unwelcome to so faithful a
+friend. He himself rode little, being indolent,
+and a happier host than guest; and when I
+returned here, she should be stuffed with
+dainties awaiting me.</p>
+
+<p>To this I cordially and gratefully agreed;
+and also even more cordially to remain with
+him the next day; and the next night after
+that to take my watery departure.</p>
+
+<p>So it was. And a courteous, versatile, and
+vivacious companion I found him. Rare tales
+he told me, too, of better days than these,
+and rarest of his own never-more-returning
+youth. He loved his childhood, talked on
+of it with an artless zeal, his eyes a nest of
+singing-birds. How contrite he was for spirit
+lost, and daring withheld, and hope discomfited!
+How simple and urbane concerning
+his present lowly demands on life, on love,
+and on futurity! All this, too, with such
+packed winks and mirth and mourning, that I
+truly said good-night for the second time to
+him with a rather melancholy warmth, since
+to-morrow ... who can face unmoved that
+viewless sphinx? Moreover, the sea is wide,
+has fishes in plenty, but never too many
+coraled grottoes once poor mariners.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV" ></a>XV</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;JOHN WEBSTER.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>On the stroke of two next morning the
+doctor conducted me down to the creek in
+the river-bank where he kept his boat. There
+was little light but of the stars in the sky;
+nothing stirring. She floated dim and monstrous
+on the softly-running water, a navy
+in germ, and could have sat without danger
+thirty men like me. We stood on the bank,
+side by side, eyeing her vacancy. And (I can
+answer for myself) night-thoughts rose up in
+us at sight of her. Was it indeed only wind
+in the reeds that sighed around us? only
+the restless water insistently whispering and
+calling? only of darkness were these forbidding
+shadows?</p>
+
+<p>I looked up sharply at the doctor from
+such pensive embroidery, and found him as
+far away as I. He nodded and smiled, and
+we shook hands on the bank in the thick
+mist.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's biscuits and a little meat, wine,
+and fruit,&quot; he said in an undertone. &quot;God be
+with you, sir! I sadly mistrust the future.
+... 'Tis ever my way, at parting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>We said good-bye again, to the dream-cry
+of some little fluttering creature of the rushes.
+And well before dawn I was floating midstream,
+my friend a memory, Rosinante in
+clover, and my travels, so far as this brief
+narrative will tell, nearly ended.</p>
+
+<p>I saw nothing but a few long-haired,
+grazing cattle on my voyage, that eyed me but
+cursorily. I passed unmolested among the
+waterfowl, between the never-silent rushes,
+beneath a sky refreshed and sweetened with
+storm. The boat was enormously heavy and
+made slow progress. When too the tide
+began to flow I must needs push close in to
+the bank and await the ebb. But towards
+evening of the third day I began to approach
+the sea.</p>
+
+<p>I listened to the wailing of its long-winged
+gulls; snuffed with how broad-nostrilled a
+gusto that savour not even pinewoods can
+match, nor any wild flower disguise; and heard
+at last the sound that stirs beneath all music&mdash;the
+deep's loud-falling billow.</p>
+
+<p>I pushed ashore, climbed the sandy bank,
+and moored my boat to an ash tree at the
+waterside. And after scrambling some little
+distance over dunes yet warm with the sun,
+I came out at length, and stood like a Greek
+before the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Here my bright river disembogued in noise
+and foam. Far to either side of me stretched
+the faint gold horns of a bay; and beyond
+me, almost violet in the shadow of its waves,
+the shipless sea.</p>
+
+<p>I looked on the breaking water with a
+divided heart. Its light, salt airs, its solitary
+beauty, its illimitable reaches seemed tidings
+of a region I could remember only as one
+who, remembering that he has dreamed,
+remembers nothing more. Larks rose, singing,
+behind me. In a calm, golden light my eager
+river quarrelled with its peace. Here indeed
+was solitude!</p>
+
+<p>It was in searching sea and cliff for the
+least sign of life that I thought I descried
+on the furthest extremity of the nearer of
+the horns of the bay the spires and
+smouldering domes of a little city. If I
+gazed intently, they seemed to vanish away,
+yet still to shine above the azure if, raising
+my eyes, I looked again.</p>
+
+<p>So, caring not how far I must go so long
+as my path lay beside these breaking waters,
+I set out on the firm, white sands to prove
+this city the mirage I deemed it.</p>
+
+<p>What wonder, then, my senses fell asleep
+in that vast lullaby! And out of a daydream
+almost as deep as that in which I
+first set out, I was suddenly aroused by a
+light tapping sound, distinct and regular
+between the roaring breakers.</p>
+
+<p>I lifted my eyes to find the city I was
+seeking evanished away indeed. But nearer
+at hand a child was playing upon the beach,
+whose spade among the pebbles had caused
+the birdlike noise I had heard.</p>
+
+<p>So engrossed was she with her building
+in the sand that she had not heard me approaching.
+She laboured on at the margin
+of the cliff's shadow where the sea-birds
+cried, answering Echo in the rocks. So
+solitary and yet so intent, so sedate and
+yet so eager a little figure she seemed in
+the long motionlessness of the shore, by the
+dark heedlessness of the sea, I hesitated to
+disturb her.</p>
+
+<p>Who of all Time's children could this be
+playing uncompanioned by the sea? And
+at a little distance betwixt me and her in
+the softly-mounded sand her spade had
+already scrawled in large, ungainly capitals,
+the answer&mdash;&quot;Annabel Lee.&quot; The little
+flounced black frock, the tresses of black
+hair, the small, beautiful dark face&mdash;this then
+was Annabel Lee; and that bright, phantom
+city I had seen&mdash;that was the vanishing
+mockery of her kingdom.</p>
+
+<p>I called her from where I stood&mdash;&quot;Annabel
+Lee!&quot; She lifted her head and
+shook back her hair, and gazed at me
+startled and intent. I went nearer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are a very lonely little girl,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am building in the sand,&quot; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A castle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was in dreams,&quot; she said, flushing
+darkly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What kind of dream was it in then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! I often dream it; and I build it in
+the sand. But there's never time: the sea
+comes back.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was the tide quite high when you
+began?&quot; I asked; for now it was low.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just that much from the stones,&quot; she
+said; &quot;I waited for it ever so long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has a long way to come yet,&quot; I said;
+&quot;you will finish it <i>this</i> time, I dare say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head and lifted her spade.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh no; it is much bigger, more than
+twice. And I haven't the seaweed, or
+the shells, and it comes back very, very
+quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But where is the little boy you play
+with down here by the sea?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced at me swiftly and surely;
+and shook her head again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He would help you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He didn't in my dream,&quot; she said
+doubtfully. She raised long, stealthy eyes
+to mine, and spoke softly and deliberately.
+&quot;Besides, there isn't any little boy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;None, Annabel Lee?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; she answered, &quot;I have played
+here years and years and years, and there are
+only the gulls and terns and cormorants, and
+that!&quot; She pointed with her spade towards
+the broken water.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know all their names then?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Some I know,&quot; she answered with a little
+frown, and looked far out to sea. Then,
+turning her eyes, she gazed long at me,
+searchingly, forlornly on a stranger. &quot;I am
+going home now,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at the house of sand and smiled.
+But she shook her head once more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It never <i>could</i> be finished,&quot; she said firmly,
+&quot;though I tried and tried, unless the sea
+would keep quite still just once all day,
+without going to and fro. And then,&quot; she
+added with a flash of anger&mdash;&quot;then I
+would not build.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; said I, &quot;when it is nearly finished,
+and the water washes up, and up, and
+washes it away, here is a flower that came
+from Fairyland. And that, dear heart, is
+none so far away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She took the purple flower I had plucked
+in Ennui's garden in her slim, cold hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's amaranth,&quot; she said; and I have
+never seen so old a little look in a child's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And all the flowers' names too?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>She frowned again. &quot;It's amaranth,&quot; she
+said, and ran off lightly and so deftly
+among the rocks and in the shadow that
+was advancing now even upon the foam of
+the sea, that she had vanished before I had
+time to deter, or to pursue her. I sought
+her awhile, until the dark rack of sunset
+obscured the light, and the sea's voice
+changed; then I desisted.</p>
+
+<p>It was useless to remain longer beneath
+the looming caves, among the stones of so
+inhospitable a shore. I was a stranger to
+the tides. And it was clear high-water
+would submerge the narrow sands whereon
+I stood.</p>
+
+<p>Yet I cannot describe how loth I was to
+leave to night's desolation the shapeless
+house of a child. What fate was this that
+had set her to such profitless labour on the
+uttermost shores of &quot;Tragedy&quot;? What
+history lay behind, past, or, as it were,
+never to come? What gladness too high
+for earth had nearly once been hers? Her
+sea-mound took strange shapes in the gloom&mdash;light
+foliage of stone, dark heaviness of
+granite, wherein rumour played of all that
+restless rustling; small cries, vast murmurings
+from those green meadows, old as
+night.</p>
+
+<p>I turned, even ran away, at last. I found
+my boat in the gloaming where I had left
+her, safe and sound, except that all the
+doctor's good things had been nosed and
+tumbled by some hungry beast in my
+absence. I stood and thought vacantly of
+Crusoe, and pig, and guns. But what use
+to delay? I got in.</p>
+
+<p>If it were true, as the excellent doctor had
+informed me, that seamen reported islands
+not far distant from these shores, chance
+might bear me blissfully to one of these.
+And if not true ... I turned a rather
+startled face to the water, and made haste
+not to think. Fortune pierces deep, and
+baits her hooks with sceptics. Away I
+went, bobbing mightily over the waves that
+leapt and wrestled where sea and river met.
+These safely navigated, I rowed the great
+creature straight forward across the sea, my
+face towards dwindling land, my prow to
+Scorpio.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI" ></a>XVI</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span><i>Art thou pale for weariness.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span>&mdash;PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>The constellations of summer wheeled above
+me; and thus between water and starry
+sky I tossed solitary in my boat. The faint
+lustre of the sultry night hung like a mist
+from heaven to earth. Far away above the
+countries I had left perhaps for ever, the
+quiet lightnings played innocently in the
+heights.</p>
+
+<p>I rowed steadily on, guiding myself by
+some much ruddier star on the horizon.
+The pale phosphorescence on the wave, the
+simple sounds as of fish stirring in the
+water&mdash;the beauty and wonder of Night's
+dwelling-place seemed beyond content of
+mortality.</p>
+
+<p>I leaned on my oars in the midst of the
+deep sea, and seemed to hear, as it were,
+the mighty shout of Space. Faint and
+enormous beams of light trembled through
+the sky. And once I surprised a shadow
+as of wings sweeping darkly across, star on
+to glittering star, shaking the air, stilling
+the sea with the cold dews of night.</p>
+
+<p>So rowing, so resting, I passed the mark
+of midnight. Weariness began to steal over
+me. Between sleep and wake I heard
+strange cries across the deep. The thin
+silver of the old moon ebbed into the east.
+A chill mist welled out of the water and
+shrouded me in faintest gloom. Wherefore,
+battling no more against such influences, I
+shipped my oars, made my prayer in the
+midst of this dark womb of Life, and
+screening myself as best I could from the
+airs that soon would be moving before
+dawn, I lay down in the bottom of the
+boat and fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>I slept apparently without dream, and
+woke as it seemed to the sound of voices
+singing some old music of the sea. A scent
+of a fragrance unknown to me was eddying
+in the wind. I raised my head, and saw
+with eyes half-dazed with light an island of
+cypress and poplar, green and still above
+the pure glass of its encircling waters.
+Straight before me, beyond green-bearded
+rocks dripping with foam, a little stone
+house, or temple, with columns and balconies
+of marble, stood hushed upon the cliff by
+the waterside.</p>
+
+<p>All now was soundless. They that sang,
+whether Nereids or Sirens, had descended to
+dimmer courts. The seamews floated on the
+water; the white dove strutted on the ledge;
+only the nightingales sang on in the thick
+arbours.</p>
+
+<p>I pushed my boat between the rocks
+towards the island. Bright and burning
+though the beams of the sun were, here
+seemed everlasting shadow. And though at
+my gradual intrusion, at splash or grating of
+keel, the startled cormorant cried in the air,
+and with one cry woke many, yet here too
+seemed perpetual stillness.</p>
+
+<p>How could I know what eyes might not
+be regarding me from bowers as thick and
+secluded as these? Yet this seemed an isle
+in some vague fashion familiar to me. To
+these same watery steps of stone, to this
+same mooring-ring surely I had voyaged
+before in dream or other life? I glanced
+into the water and saw my own fantastic
+image beneath the reflected gloom of
+cypresses, and knew at least, though I a
+shadow might be, this also was an island in
+a sea of shadows. Far from all land its
+marbles might be reared, yet they were
+warm to my touch, and these were nightingales,
+and those strutting doves beneath the
+little arches.</p>
+
+<p>So very gradually, and glancing to and
+fro into these unstirring groves, I came
+presently to the entrance court of the
+solitary villa on the cliff-side. Here a
+thread-like fountain plashed in its basin,
+the one thing astir in this cool retreat.
+Here, too, grew orange trees, with their
+unripe fruit upon them.</p>
+
+<p>But I continued, and venturing out upon
+the terrace overlooking the sea, saw again
+with a kind of astonishment the doctor's
+green, unwieldy boat beneath me and the
+emerald of the nearer waters tossing above
+the yellow sands.</p>
+
+<p>Here I had sat awhile lost in ease when
+I heard a footstep approaching and the
+rhythmical rustling of drapery, and knew
+eyes were now regarding me that I feared,
+yet much desired to meet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh me!&quot; said a clear yet almost languid
+voice. &quot;How comes any man so softly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Turning, I looked in the face of one
+how long a shade!</p>
+
+<p>I strove in vain to hide my confusion.
+This lady only smiled the deeper out of her
+baffling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you could guess,&quot; she said presently,
+&quot;how my heart leapt in me, as if, poor
+creature, any oars of earth could bring it
+ease, you would think me indeed as
+desolate as I am. To hear the bird scream,
+Traveller! I hastened from the gardens as
+if the black ships of the Greeks were come
+to take me. But such is long ago. Tell
+me, now, is the world yet harsh with men
+and sad with women? Burns yet that
+madness mirth calls Life? or truly does the
+puny, busy-tongued race sleep at last, nodding
+no more at me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I told as best I could how chance had
+fetched me; told, too, that earth was yet
+pestered with men, and heavenly with
+women. &quot;And the madness mirth calls Life
+flickers yet,&quot; I said; &quot;and the little race
+tosses on in nightmare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah!&quot; she replied, &quot;so ever run travellers'
+tales. I too once trusted to seem indifferent.
+But you, if shadow deceives me not, may
+yet return: I, only to the shades whence
+earth draws me. Meanwhile,&quot; she said,
+looking softly at the fountain playing in the
+clear gloom beyond, &quot;rest and grow weary
+again, for there flock more questions to my
+tongue than spines on the blackthorn. The
+gardens are green with flowers, Traveller; let
+us talk where rosemary blows.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Following her, I thought of the mysterious
+beauty of her eyes, her pallor, her slimness,
+and that faint smile which hovered between
+ecstasy and indifference, and away went my
+mind to one whom the shrewdest and tenderest
+of my own countrymen called once Criseyde.</p>
+
+<p>She led me into a garden all of faint-hued
+flowers. There bloomed no scarlet
+here, nor blue, nor yellow; but white and
+lavender and purest purple. Here, also,
+like torches of the sun, stood poplars each
+by each in the windless air, and the
+impenetrable darkness of cypresses beneath
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Here too was a fountain whose waters
+leapt no more, mossy and time-worn. I
+could not but think of those other gardens
+of my journey&mdash;Jane's, Ennui's, Dianeme's;
+and yet none like this for the shingley
+murmur of the sea, and the calmness of
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But, surely,&quot; I said, &quot;this must be very
+far from Troy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far indeed,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far also from the hollow ships.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Far also from the hollow ships,&quot; she
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yet,&quot; said I, &quot;in the country whence I
+come is a saying: Where the treasure is&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Alack! <i>there</i> gloats the miser!&quot; said
+Criseyde; &quot;but I, Traveller, have no
+treasure, only a patchwork memory, and
+that's a great grief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, forget! Why try in vain?&quot;
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled and seated herself, leaning a
+little forward, looking upon the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Soothfastness <i>must</i>,&quot;' she said very
+gravely, raising her long black eyebrows;
+&quot;yet truly it must be a forlorn thing to
+be remembered by one who so lightly forgets.
+So then I say, to teach myself to be
+true&mdash;'Look now, Criseyde, yonder fine,
+many-hearted poplar&mdash;that is Paris; and all
+that bank of marriage-ivy&mdash;that is marriageable
+Helen, green and cold; and the waterless
+fountain&mdash;that truly is Diomed; and the
+faded flower that nods in shadow, why, that
+must be me, even me, Criseyde!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And this thick rosemary-bush that smells
+of exile, who, then, is that?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>She looked deep into the shadow of the
+cypresses. &quot;That,&quot; she said, &quot;I think I
+have forgot again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But,&quot; I said, &quot;Diomed, now, was he quite
+so silent&mdash;not one trickle of persuasion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; she said, &quot;I think 'twas the
+fountain was Diomed: I know not. And
+as for persuasion; he was a man forked,
+vain, and absolute as all. Let the waterless
+stone be sudden Diomed&mdash;you will confuse
+my wits, Mariner; where, then, were I?&quot;
+She smiled, stooping lower. &quot;You have
+voyaged far?&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;From childhood to this side regret,&quot; I
+answered rather sadly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Tis a sad end to a sweet tale,&quot; she said,
+&quot;were it but truly told. But yet, and yet,
+and yet&mdash;you may return, and life heals
+every, every wound. <i>I</i> must look on the
+ground and make amends. 'Tis this same
+making amends men now call 'Purgatory,'
+they tell me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Amends,'&quot; I said; &quot;to whom? for
+what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Welaway,&quot; said she, with a narrow fork
+between her brows; &quot;to most men and to
+all women, for being that Criseyde.&quot; She
+gazed half solemnly at some picture of
+reverie.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But which Criseyde?&quot; I said. &quot;She
+who was every wind's, or but one perfect
+summer's?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She glanced strangely at me. &quot;Ask of
+the night that burns so many stars,&quot; she
+said. &quot;All's done; all passes. Yet my poor
+busy Uncle Pandar had no such changes,
+nor Hector, nor ... Men change not:
+they love and love again&mdash;one same tune
+of a myriad verses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>She tossed lightly a little dust from her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay&mdash;all,&quot; she replied; &quot;but what is that
+to me? Mine only to see Charon on the
+wave pass light over and return. Man of
+the green world, prithee die not yet awhile!
+'Tis dull being a shade. See these cold
+palms! Yet my heart beats on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For what?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>Criseyde folded her hands and leaned her
+cheek sidelong upon the stone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For what?&quot; I repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For what but idle questions?&quot; she said;
+&quot;for a traveller's vanity that deems looking
+love-boys into a woman's eyes her sweeter
+entertainment than all the heroes of Troy.
+Oh, for a house of nought to be at peace
+in! Oh, gooseish swan! Oh, brittle vows!
+Tell me, Voyager, is it not so?&mdash;that men
+are merely angry boys with beards; and
+women&mdash;repeat not, ye who know! Never
+yet set I these steadfast eyes on a man that
+would not steal the moon for taper&mdash;would
+she but come down.&quot; She turned an arch
+face to me: &quot;And what is to be faithful?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I?&quot; said I&mdash;&quot;'to be faithful?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is,&quot; she said, &quot;to rise and never set,
+O sun of utter weariness! It is to kindle
+and never be quenched, O fretting fire of
+midsummer! It is to be snared and always
+sing, O shrilling bird of dulness! It is to
+come, not go; smile, not sigh; wake, never
+sleep. Couldst <i>thou</i> love so many nots to
+a silk string?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What, then, is to change,... to be
+fickle?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ah! to be fickle,&quot; she said, &quot;is showers
+after drought, seas after sand; to cry,
+unechoed; to be thirsty, the pitcher broken.
+And&mdash;ask now this pitiless darkness of the
+eyes!&mdash;to be remembered though Lethe
+flows between. Nay, you shall watch even
+hope away ere another comes like me to
+mope and sigh, and play at swords with
+Memory.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She rose to her feet and drew her hands
+across her face, and smiling, sighed deeply.
+And I saw how inscrutable and lovely she
+must ever seem to eyes scornful of mean
+men's idolatries.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you will embark again,&quot; she said
+softly; &quot;and in how small a ship on seas so
+mighty! And whither next will fate entice
+you, to what new sorrows?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who knows?&quot; I said. &quot;And to what
+further peace?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed lightly. &quot;Speak not of
+mockeries,&quot; she said, and fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to be thinking quickly and
+deeply; for even though I did not turn to
+her, I could see in imagination the restless
+sparkling of her eyes, the stillness of her
+ringless hands. Then suddenly she turned.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Stranger,&quot; she said, drawing her finger
+softly along the cold stone of the bench,
+&quot;there yet remain a few bright hours to
+morning. Who knows, seeing that felicity
+is with the bold, did I cast off into the
+sea&mdash;who knows whereto I'd come! 'Tis
+but a little way to being happy&mdash;a touch
+of the hand, a lifting of the brows, a
+shuddering silence. Had I but man's
+courage! Yet this is a solitary place, and
+the gods are revengeful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I cannot say how artlessly ran that voice
+in this still garden, by some strange power
+persuading me on, turning all doubt aside,
+calming all suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is honeycomb here, and the fruit
+is plenteous. Yes,&quot; she said, &quot;and all
+travellers are violent men&mdash;catch and kill
+meat&mdash;that I know, however doleful. 'Tis
+but a little sigh from day to day in these
+cool gardens; and rest is welcome when the
+heart pines not. Listen, now; I will go
+down and you shall show me&mdash;did one have
+the wit to learn, and courage to remember&mdash;show
+me how sails your wonderful little
+ship; tell me, too, where on the sea's
+horizon to one in exile earth lies, with all
+its pleasant things&mdash;yet thinks so bitterly of
+a woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me,&quot; I said; &quot;tell me but one
+thing of a thousand. Whom would <i>you</i>
+seek, did a traveller direct you, and a boat
+were at your need?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at me, pondering, weaving her
+webs about me, lulling doubt, and banishing
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One could not miss&mdash;a hero!&quot; she said,
+flaming.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That, then, shall be our bargain,&quot; I
+replied with wrath at my own folly. &quot;Tell
+me this precious hero's name, and though
+all the dogs of the underworld come to
+course me, you shall take my boat, and
+leave me here&mdash;only this hero's name, a
+pedlar's bargain!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She lowered her lids. &quot;It must be
+Diomed,&quot; she said with the least sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must be,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nay, then, Antenor, or truly Thersites,&quot;
+she said happily, &quot;the silver-tongued!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-bye, then,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good-bye,&quot; she replied very gently.
+&quot;Why, how could there be a vow between
+us? I go, and return. You await me&mdash;me,
+Criseyde, Traveller, the lonely-hearted. That
+is the little all, O much-surrendering
+Stranger! Would that long-ago were now&mdash;before
+all chaffering!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Again a thousand questions rose to my
+tongue. She looked sidelong at the dry
+fountain, and one and all fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is harsh, endless labour beneath the
+burning sun; storms and whirlwinds go
+about the sea, and the deep heaves with
+monsters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, sweet danger!&quot; she said, mocking me.</p>
+
+<p>I turned from her without a word, like
+an angry child, and made my way to the
+steps into the sea, pulled round my boat
+into a little haven beside them, and shewed
+her oars and tackle and tiller; all the toil,
+and peril, the wild chances.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why,&quot; she cried, while I was yet full
+of the theme, &quot;I will go then at once, and
+to-morrow Troy will come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I looked long at her in silence; her slim
+beauty, the answerless riddle of her eyes, the
+age-long subtilty of her mouth, and gave
+no more thought to all life else.</p>
+
+<p>Day was already waning. I filled the
+water-keg with fresh water, put fruit and
+honeycomb and a pillow of leaves into the
+boat, proffered a trembling hand, and led her
+down.</p>
+
+<p>The sun's beams slanted on the foamless
+sea, glowed in a flame of crimson on marble
+and rock and cypress. The birds sang
+endlessly on of evening, endlessly, too, it
+seemed to me, of dangers my heart had no
+surmise of.</p>
+
+<p>Criseyde turned from the dark green waves.
+&quot;Truly, it is a solitary country; pathless,&quot;
+she said, &quot;to one unpiloted;&quot; and stood
+listening to the hollow voices of the water.
+And suddenly, as if at the consummation
+of her thoughts, she lifted her eyes on me,
+darkly, with unimaginable entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you seek else?&quot; I cried in a
+voice I scarcely recognised. &quot;Oh, you speak
+in riddles!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I sprang into the boat and seized the
+heavy oars. Something like laughter, or, as
+it were, the clapper of a scarer of birds,
+echoed among the rocks at the rattling of
+the rowlocks. As if invisible hands withdrew
+it from me, the island floated back.</p>
+
+<p>I turned my prow towards the last
+splendour of the sun. A chill breeze played
+over the sea: a shadow crossed my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Buoyant was my boat; how light her
+cargo!&mdash;an oozing honeycomb, ashy fruits, a
+few branches of drooping leaves, closing
+flowers; and solitary on the thwart the
+wraith of life's unquiet dream.</p>
+
+<p>So fell night once more, and made all
+dim. And only the cold light of the
+firmament lit thoughts in me restless as the
+sea on which I tossed, whose moon was
+dark, yet walked in heaven beneath the
+distant stars.</p>
+
+
+<div><br /></div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<div><br /></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Printed and bound by Hazell, Watson &amp; Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</i></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 15432-h.txt or 15432-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/4/3/15432">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/3/15432</a></p>
+<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.</p>
+
+<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.</p>
+
+
+
+<pre>
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+<a href="https://gutenberg.org/license">https://gutenberg.org/license)</a>.
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
+eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
+compressed (zipped), HTML and others.
+
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
+the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
+VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
+new filenames and etext numbers.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">https://www.gutenberg.org</a>
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
+are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
+download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
+search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
+download by the etext year.
+
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a>
+
+    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
+     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)
+
+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
+identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
+digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
+example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:
+
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234
+
+or filename 24689 would be found at:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689
+
+An alternative method of locating eBooks:
+<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a>
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/15432.txt b/15432.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..983c3da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4678 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Henry Brocken, by Walter J. de la Mare
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Henry Brocken
+       His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance
+
+
+Author: Walter J. de la Mare
+
+Release Date: March 21, 2005  [eBook #15432]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Melissa Er-Raqabi, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+HENRY BROCKEN
+
+
+
+
+    With a heart of furious fancies,
+      Whereof I am commander:
+        With a burning spear,
+        And a horse of air,
+      To the wilderness I wander;
+
+    With a Knight of ghosts and shadows,
+      I summoned am to Tourney:
+        Ten leagues beyond
+        The wide world's end;
+      Methinks it is no journey.
+
+    --ANON. (_Tom o' Bedlam_).
+
+
+
+
+HENRY BROCKEN
+
+His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable
+Regions of Romance
+
+by
+
+WALTER J. DE LA MARE
+
+("WALTER RAMAL")
+
+London
+John Murray, Albemarle Street, W.
+
+1904
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. WHITHER?
+
+    Come hither, come hither, come hither!
+
+    --SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+II. LUCY GRAY
+
+    Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray;
+      And, when I crossed the wild,
+    I chanced to see at break of day
+      The solitary child.
+
+    --WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+III. JANE EYRE
+
+    I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams ... where
+    amidst unusual scenes ... I still again and again met Mr.
+    Rochester;... and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his
+    voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him,
+    being loved by him--the hope of passing a lifetime at his side,
+    would be renewed, with all its first force and fire.
+
+    --CHARLOTTE BRONTE (_Jane Eyre_, Ch. xxxii.).
+
+
+IV. JULIA, ELECTRA, DIANEME
+
+    Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
+      Old Time is still a-flying:
+    And this same flower that smiles to-day
+      To-morrow will be dying.
+
+    The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
+      The higher he's a-getting,
+    The sooner will his race be run,
+      And nearer he's to setting.
+
+    That age is best which is the first,
+      When youth and blood are warmer;
+    But being spent, the worse, and worst
+      Times still succeed the former.
+
+    Then be not coy, but use your time;
+      And while ye may, go marry:
+    For having lost but once your prime,
+      You may for ever tarry.
+
+    ANTHEA--
+
+    Now is the time when all the lights wax dim,
+    And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
+    Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me
+    Under the holy-oak or gospel tree;...
+    Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
+    In which thy sacred relics shall have room:
+    For my embalming, sweetest, there will be
+    No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.
+
+    --HERRICK (_Hesperides_).
+
+
+V. NICK BOTTOM 43
+
+    BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out
+    moonshine, find out moonshine.
+
+    --_A Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act III., Sc. i.
+
+
+VI. SLEEPING BEAUTY
+
+
+VII. & VIII. LEMUEL GULLIVER
+
+    I must freely confess that since my last return some corruptions
+    of my Yahoo nature have revived in me, by conversing with a few of
+    your species, and particularly those of my own family, by an
+    unavoidable necessity; else I should never have attempted so
+    absurd a project as that of reforming the Yahoo race in this
+    kingdom: but I have done with all such visionary schemes for
+    ever.--_Gulliver's Letter to his Cousin._
+
+    The first money I laid out was to buy two young stone horses,
+    which I kept in a good stable, and next to them the groom is my
+    greatest favourite; for I feel my spirits revived by the smell he
+    contracts in the stable.
+
+    --SWIFT (_A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms_, Ch. xi.).
+
+
+IX. & X. MISTRUST, OBSTINATE, LIAR, ETC.
+
+    And as he read he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to
+    contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I
+    do?"...
+
+    The neighbours also came out to see him run; and as he ran, some
+    mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return.
+
+ATHEIST--
+
+    Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming softly and
+    alone, all along the highway, to meet them.
+
+    --BUNYAN (_The Pilgrim's Progress_).
+
+
+XI. LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
+
+    "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
+      Alone and palely loitering?
+    The sedge has withered from the lake,
+        And no birds sing.
+
+    "O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
+      So haggard and so woe-begone?
+    The squirrel's granary is full,
+        And the harvest's done."
+
+    --KEATS.
+
+
+XII. SLEEP AND DEATH
+
+    Death will come when thou art dead,
+        Soon, too soon--
+    Sleep will come when thou art fled;
+      Of neither would I ask the boon
+    I ask of thee, beloved Night--
+    Swift be thine approaching flight,
+        Come soon, soon!
+
+    --SHELLEY.
+
+
+XIII. & XIV. A DOCTOR OF PHYSIC
+
+    Well, well, well,--
+    ... God, God forgive us all!
+
+    --_Macbeth_, Act V., Sc. i.
+
+
+XV. ANNABEL LEE
+
+    I was a child, and she was a child
+      In this kingdom by the sea;
+    And we loved with a love that was more than love--
+      I and my Annabel Lee--
+    With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
+      Coveted her and me.
+
+    --EDGAR ALLAN POE.
+
+
+XVI. CRISEYDE
+
+    ... Love hadde his dwellinge
+    With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen.
+
+    Book I., 304-5.
+
+    Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth,
+    Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;
+    Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!
+
+    Book III., 1110-2.
+
+    And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!
+
+    Book V., 1421.
+
+    --CHAUCER (_Troilus and Criseyde_).
+
+
+
+
+THE TRAVELLER
+TO
+THE READER
+
+
+
+The traveller who presents himself in this little book feels how
+tedious a person he may prove to be. Most travellers, that he ever
+heard of, were the happy possessors of audacity and rigour, a zeal for
+facts, a zeal for Science, a vivid faith in powder and gold. Who,
+then, will bear for a moment with an ignorant, pacific adventurer,
+without even a gun?
+
+He may, however, seem even more than bold in one thing, and that is in
+describing regions where the wise and the imaginative and the immortal
+have been before him. For that he never can be contrite enough. And
+yet, in spite of the renown of these regions, he can present neither
+map nor chart of them, latitude nor longitude: can affirm only that
+their frontier stretches just this side of Dream; that they border
+Impossibility; lie parallel with Peace.
+
+But since it is his, and only his, journey and experiences, his wonder
+and delight in these lands that he tells of--a mere microcosm, as it
+were--he entreats forgiveness of all who love them and their people as
+much as he loves them--scarce "on this side idolatry."
+
+H.B.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+    _Oh, what land is the Land of Dream?_
+
+    --WILLIAM BLAKE.
+
+
+I lived, then, in the great world once, in an old, roomy house beside
+a little wood of larches, with an aunt of the name of Sophia. My
+father and mother died a few days before my fourth birthday, so that I
+can conjure up only fleeting glimpses of their faces by which to
+remember what love was then lost to me. Both were youthful at death,
+but my Aunt Sophia was ever elderly. She was keen, and just, seldom
+less than kind; but a child was to her something of a little animal,
+and it was nothing more. In consequence, well fed, warmly clad, and in
+freedom, I grew up almost in solitude between my angels, hearkening
+with how simple a curiosity to that everlasting warfare of persuasion
+and compulsion, terror and delight.
+
+Which of them it was that guided me, before even I could read, to the
+little room dark with holly trees that had been of old my uncle's
+library, I know not. Perhaps at the instant it chanced there had
+fallen a breathless truce between them, and I being solitary, my own
+instinct took me. But having once found that pictured haven, I had
+found somewhat of content.
+
+I think half my youthful days passed in that low, book-walled chamber.
+The candles I burned through those long years of evening would deck
+Alps' hugest fir; the dust I disturbed would very easily fill again
+the measure that some day shall contain my own; and the small studious
+thumbmarks that paced, as if my footprints, leaf by leaf of that long
+journey, might be the history of life's experience in little,--from
+clearer, to clear, to faint--how very faint at last!
+
+I do not remember ever to have been discovered in this retreat. I was
+(by nature) prompt at meals, and wary to be in bed at my hour, however
+transitory its occupation might be. Indeed, I very well recollect
+dawn painting the page my eyes dwelt on, surprising me with its
+mystery and stealth in a house as silent as the grave.
+
+Thus entertained then by insubstantial society I grew up, and began to
+be old, before I had yet learned age is disastrous. And it was there,
+in that cold, bright chamber, one snowy twilight, first suddenly awoke
+in me an imperative desire for distant lands.
+
+Even while little else than a child I had begun to cast my mind to
+travel. I doubt if ever Columbus suffered such vexation from an itch
+to be gone.
+
+But whither?
+
+Now, it seemed clear to me after long brooding and musing that however
+beautiful were these regions of which I never wearied to read, and
+however wild and faithful and strange and lovely the people of the
+books, somewhere the former must remain yet, somewhere, in immortality
+serene, dwell they whom so many had spent life in dreaming of, and
+writing about.
+
+In fact, take it for all in all, what could these authors have been
+at, if they laboured from dawn to midnight, from laborious midnight to
+dawn, merely to tell of what never was, and never by any chance could
+be? It was heaven-clear to me, solitary and a dreamer; let me but gain
+the key, I would soon unlock that Eden garden-door. Somewhere yet, I
+was sure, Imogen's mountains lift their chill summits into heaven;
+over haunted sea-sands Ariel flits; at his webbed casement next the
+stars Faust covets youth, till the last trump shall ring him out of
+dream.
+
+It was on a blue March morning, with all the trees of my aunt's woods
+in a pale-green tumult of wind, that, quite unwittingly, I set out on
+a journey that has not yet come to an end.
+
+There was a hint in the air at my waking, I fancied, not quite of mere
+earth, the perfume of the banners of Flora, of the mould where in
+melting snow the crocus blows. I looked from my window, and the
+western clouds drew gravely and loftily in the illimitable air towards
+the whistling house. Strange trumpets pealed in the wind. Even my
+poor, aged Aunt Sophia had changed with the universal change; her
+great, solitary face reminded me of some long-forgotten April.
+
+And a little before eleven I saddled my uncle's old mare Rosinante
+(poor female jade to bear a name so glorious!), and rode out (as for
+how many fruitless seasons I had ridden out!), down the stony,
+nettle-narrowed path that led for a secret mile or more, beneath
+lindens, towards the hills.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+    _Still thou art blest compared wi' me!_
+
+    --ROBERT BURNS.
+
+
+It is to be wondered at that in so bleak a wind I could possibly fall
+into reverie. But the habit was rooted deep in me; Rosinante was
+prosaic and trustworthy; the country for miles around familiar to me
+as the palm of my hand. Yet so deeply was I involved, and so steadily
+had we journeyed on, that when at last I lifted my eyes with a great
+sigh that was almost a sob, I found myself in a place utterly unknown
+to me.
+
+But more inexplicable yet, not only was the place strange, but, by
+some incredible wizardry, Rosinante seemed to have carried me out of a
+March morning, blue and tumultuous and bleak, into the grey, sweet
+mist of a midsummer dawn.
+
+I found that we were ambling languidly on across a green and level
+moor. Far away, whether of clouds or hills I could not yet tell, rose
+cold towers and pinnacles into the last darkness of night. Above us in
+the twilight invisible larks climbed among the daybeams, singing as
+they flew. A thick dew lay in beads on stick and stalk. We were alone
+with the fresh wind of morning and the clear pillars of the East.
+
+On I went, heedless, curious, marvelling; my only desire to press
+forward to the goal whereto destiny was directing me. I suppose after
+this we had journeyed about an hour, and the risen sun was on the
+extreme verge of the gilded horizon, when I espied betwixt me and the
+deep woods that lay in the distance a little child walking.
+
+She, at any rate, was not a stranger to this moorland. Indeed,
+something in her carriage, in the grey cloak she wore, in her light,
+insistent step, in the old lantern she carried, in the shrill little
+song she or the wind seemed singing, for a moment half impelled me to
+turn aside. Even Rosinante pricked forward her ears, and stooped her
+gentle face to view more closely this light traveller. And she pawed
+the ground with her great shoe, and gnawed her bit when I drew rein
+and leaned forward in the saddle to speak to the child.
+
+"Is there any path here, little girl, that I may follow?" I said.
+
+"No path at all," she answered.
+
+"But how then do strangers find their way across the moor?" I said.
+
+She debated with herself a moment. "Some by the stars, and some by the
+moon," she answered.
+
+"By the moon!" I cried. "But at day, what then?"
+
+"Oh, then, sir," she said, "they can see."
+
+I could not help laughing at her demure little answers. "Why!" I
+exclaimed, "what a worldly little woman! And what is your name?"
+
+"They call me Lucy Gray," she said, looking up into my face. I think
+my heart almost ceased to beat.
+
+"Lucy Gray!" I repeated.
+
+"Yes," she said most seriously, as if to herself, "in all this snow."
+
+"'Snow,'" I said--"this is dewdrops shining, not snow."
+
+She looked at me without flinching. "How else can mother see how I am
+lost?" she said.
+
+"Why!" said I, "how else?" not knowing how to reach her bright belief.
+"And what are those thick woods called over there?"
+
+She shook her head. "There is no name," she said.
+
+"But you have a name--Lucy Gray; and you started out--do you
+remember?--one winter's day at dusk, and wandered on and on, on and
+on, the snow falling in the dark, till--Do you remember?"
+
+She stood quite still, her small, serious face full to the east,
+striving with far-off dreams. And a merry little smile passed over her
+lips. "That will be a long time since," she said, "and I must be off
+home." And as if it had been but an apparition of my eyes that had
+beset and deluded me, she was gone; and I found myself sitting astride
+in the full brightness of the sun's first beams, alone.
+
+What omen was this, then, that I should meet first a phantom on my
+journey? One thing only was clear: Rosinante could trust to her five
+wits better than I to mine. So leaving her to take what way she
+pleased, I rode on, till at length we approached the woods I had
+descried. Presently we were jogging gently down into a deep and misty
+valley flanked by bracken and pines, from which issued into the crisp
+air of morning a most delicious aromatic smell, that seemed at least
+to prove this valley not far remote from Araby.
+
+I do not think I was disturbed, though I confess to having been a
+little amazed to see how profound this valley was into which we were
+descending, yet how swiftly climbed the sun, as if to pace with us so
+that we should not be in shadow, howsoever fast we journeyed. I was
+astonished to see flowers of other seasons than summer by the wayside,
+and to hear in June, for no other month could bear such green
+abundance, the thrush sing with a February voice. Here too, almost at
+my right hand, perched a score or more of robins, bright-dyed,
+warbling elvishly in chorus as if the may-boughs whereon they sat were
+white with hoarfrost and not buds. Birds also unknown to me in voice
+and feather I saw, and little creatures in fur, timid yet not wild;
+fruits, even, dangled from the trees, as if, like the bramble, blossom
+and seed could live here together and prosper.
+
+Yet why should I be distracted by these things, thought I. I
+remembered Maundeville and Hithlodaye, Sindbad and Gulliver, and many
+another citizen of Thule, and was reassured. A man must either believe
+what he sees, or see what he believes; I know no other course. Why,
+too, should I mistrust the bounty of the present merely for the
+scarcity of the past? Not I!
+
+I rode on, and it seemed had advanced but a few miles before the sun
+stood overhead, and it was noon. We were growing weary, I think, of
+sheer delight: Rosinante, with her mild face beneath its dark forelock
+gazing this side, that side, at the uncustomary landscape; and I ever
+peering forward beneath my hat in eagerness to descry some living
+creature a little bigger than these conies and squirrels, to prove me
+yet in lands inhabited. But the sun was wheeling headlong, and the
+stillness of late afternoon on the woods, when, dusty and parched and
+heavy, we came to a break in the thick foliage, and presently to a
+green gate embowered in box.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+    _Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee suffice
+    To make dreams truth, and fables histories._
+
+    --JOHN DONNE.
+
+
+I dismounted and, with the nose of my beast in my bosom, stood awhile
+gazing, in the half-dream weariness brings, across the valley at the
+dense forests that covered the hills. And while thus standing,
+doubtful whether to knock at the little gate or to ride on, it began
+to open, and a great particoloured dog looked out on us. There was
+certainly something unusual in the aspect of this animal, for though
+he lifted on us grave and sagacious eyes, he scarcely seemed to see
+us, manifested neither pleasure nor disapproval, neither wagged his
+tail to give us welcome nor yawned to display his armament. He seemed
+a kind of dream-dog, a dog one sees without zeal, and sees again
+partly with the eye, but most in recollection.
+
+Thus however we stood, stranger, horse, and dog, till a morose voice
+called somewhere from beyond, "Pilot, sir, come here, Pilot." Semi-dog
+or no, he knew his master. Whereupon, tying up my dejected Rosinante
+to a ring in the gateway, I followed boldly after "Pilot" into that
+sequestered garden.
+
+Meanwhile, however, he had disappeared--down a thick green alley to
+the left, I supposed. So I went forward by a clearer path, and when I
+had advanced a few paces, met face to face a lady whose dark eyes
+seemed strangely familiar to me.
+
+She was evidently a little disquieted at meeting a stranger so
+unceremoniously, but stood her ground like a small, black, fearless
+note of interrogation.
+
+I explained at once, therefore, as best I could, how I came to be
+there: described my journey, my bewilderment, and how that I knew not
+into what country nor company fate had beguiled me, except that the
+one was beautiful, and the other in some delightful way familiar, and
+I begged her to tell me where I really was, and how far from home,
+and of whom I was now beseeching forgiveness.
+
+Her thoughts followed my every word, passing upon her face like
+shadows on the sea. I have never seen a listener so completely still
+and so completely engrossed in listening. And when I had finished, she
+looked aside with a transient, half-sly smile, and glanced at me again
+covertly, so that I could not see herself for seeing her eyes; and she
+laughed lightly.
+
+"It is indeed a strange journey," she replied. "But I fear I cannot in
+the least direct you. I have never ventured my own self beyond the
+woods, lest--I should penetrate too far. But you are tired and hungry.
+Will you please walk on a few steps till you come to a stone seat? My
+name is Rochester--Jane Rochester"--she glanced up between the hollies
+with a sigh that was all but laughter--"Jane Eyre, you know."
+
+I went on as she had bidden, and seated myself before an old, white,
+many-windowed house, squatting, like an owl at noon, beneath its green
+covert. In a few minutes the great dog with dripping jowl passed
+almost like reality, and after him his mistress, and on her arm her
+master, Mr. Rochester.
+
+There seemed a night of darkness in that scarred face, and stars
+unearthly bright. He peered dimly at me, leaning heavily on Jane's
+arm, his left hand plunged into the bosom of his coat. And when he was
+come near, he lifted his hat to me with a kind of Spanish gravity.
+
+"Is this the gentleman, Jane?" he enquired.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He's young!" he muttered.
+
+"For otherwise he would not be here," she replied.
+
+"Was the gate bolted, then?" he asked.
+
+"Mr. Rochester desires to know if you had the audacity, sir, to scale
+his garden wall," Jane said, turning sharply on me. "Shall I count the
+strawberries, sir?" she added over her shoulder."
+
+"Jane, Jane!" he exclaimed testily. "I have no wish to be uncivil,
+sir. We are not of the world--a mere dark satellite. I am dim; and
+suspicious of strangers, as this one treacherous eye should manifest.
+I'll but ask your name, sir,--there are yet a few names left, once
+pleasing to my ear."
+
+"My name is Brocken, sir--Henry Brocken," I answered.
+
+"And--did you walk? Pah! there's the mystery! God knows how else you
+could have come, unless you are a modern Ganymede. Where then's your
+aquiline steed, sir? We have no neighbours here--none to stare, and
+pry, and prate, and slander."
+
+I informed him that I was as ignorant as he what power had spirited me
+to his house, but that so far as obvious means went, my old horse was
+probably by this time fast asleep beside the green gate at which I had
+entered. Jane stood on tip-toe and whispered in his ear, and, nodding
+imperiously at him, withdrew into the house.
+
+Complete silence fell between us after her departure. The woods stood
+dark and motionless in the yellow evening light. There was no sound of
+wind or water, no sound of voices or footsteps; only far away the
+clear, scarce-audible warbling of a sleepy bird.
+
+"Well, sir," Mr. Rochester said suddenly, "I am bidden invite you to
+pass the night here. There are stranger inhabitants than Mr. and Mrs.
+Rochester in these regions you have by some means strayed into--wilder
+denizens, by much; for youth's seraphic finding. Not for mine, sir, I
+vow. Depart again in the morning, if you will: we shall neither of us
+be displeased by then to say farewell, I dare say. I do not seek
+company. My obscure shell is enough." I rose. "Sit down--sit down
+again, my dear sir; there's no mischief in the truth between two men
+of any world, I suppose, assuredly not of this. My wife will see to
+your comfort. There! hushie now, here he floats; sit still, sit
+still--I hear his wings. It is my 'Four Evangels,' sir!"
+
+It was a sleek blackbird that had alighted and now set to singing on
+the topmost twig of a lofty pear-tree near by; and with his first note
+Jane reappeared. And while we listened, unstirring, to that rich,
+undaunted voice, I had good opportunity to observe her, and not, I
+think, without her knowledge, not even without her approval.
+
+This, then, was the face that had returned wrath for wrath, remorse
+for remorse, passion for passion to that dark egotist Jane in the
+looking-glass. Yet who, thought I, could be else than beautiful with
+eyes that seemed to hide in fleeting cloud a flame as pure as amber?
+The arch simplicity of her gown, her small, narrow hands, the
+exquisite cleverness of mouth and chin, the lovely courage and
+sincerity of that yet-childish brow--it seemed even Mr. Rochester's
+"Four Evangels" out of his urgent rhetoric was summoning with
+reiterated persuasions, "Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, Ja ... ne!"
+
+Light faded from the woods; a faint wind blew cold upon our faces.
+Jane took Mr. Rochester's hand and looked into his face.
+
+She turned to me. "Will you come in, Mr. Brocken? I have seen that
+your horse is made quite easy. He was fast asleep, poor fellow, as
+you surmised; and, I think, dreaming; for when I proffered him a lump
+of sugar, he thrust his nose into my face and breathed as if I were a
+peck of corn. The candles are lit, sir; supper is ready."
+
+We went in slowly, and Jane bolted the door. "But who it is that can
+be bolted out," she said, "I know not; though there's much to bolt in.
+I have stood here, Mr. Brocken, on darker nights as still as this, and
+have heard what seemed to be the sea breaking, far away, leagues upon
+leagues beyond the forests--the gush forward, the protracted, heavy
+retreat,--listened till I could have wept to think that it was only my
+own poor furious heart beating. You may imagine, then, I push the
+bolts home."
+
+"But why, Jane--why?" cried Mr. Rochester incredulously. "Violent
+fancies, child!"
+
+"Why, sir, it was, I say, not the sea I heard, but a trickling tide
+one icy tap might stay, if it found but entry there."
+
+"You talk wildly, Jane--wildly, wildly; the air's afloat with
+listeners; so it seems, so it seems. Had I but one clear lamp in this
+dark face!"
+
+We sat down in the candle-lit twilight to supper. It was to me like
+the supper of a child, taken at peace in the clear beams, ere he
+descend into the shadow of sleep.
+
+They sat, try as I would not to observe them, hand touching hand
+throughout the meal. But to me it was as if one might sit to eat
+before a great mountain ruffled with pines, and perpetually clamorous
+with torrents. All that Mr. Rochester said, every gesture, these were
+but the ghosts of words and movements. Behind them, gloomy,
+imperturbable, withdrawn, slumbered a strange, smouldering power. I
+began to see how very hotly Jane must love him, she who loved above
+all things storm, the winds of the equinox, the illimitable night-sky.
+
+She begged him to take a little wine with me, and filled his glass
+till it burned like a ruby between their hands.
+
+"It paints both our hands!" she cried glancing up at him.
+
+"Ay, Janet," he answered; "but where is yours?"
+
+"And what goal will you make for when you leave us," she enquired of
+me. "_Is_ there anywhere else?" she added, lifting her slim eyebrows.
+
+"I shall put trust in Chance," I replied, "which at least is steadfast
+in change. So long as it does not guide me back, I care not how far
+forward I go."
+
+"You are right," she answered; "that is a puissant battlecry, here and
+hereafter."
+
+Mr. Rochester rose hastily from his chair. "The candles irk me, Jane.
+I would like to be alone. Excuse me, sir." He left the room.
+
+Jane lifted a dark curtain and beckoned me to bring the lights. She
+sat down before a little piano and desired me to sit beside her. And
+while she played, I know not what, but only it seemed old,
+well-remembered airs her mood suggested, she asked me many questions.
+
+"And am I indeed only like that poor mad thing you thought Jane Eyre?"
+she said, "or did you read between?"
+
+I answered that it was not her words, not even her thoughts, not even
+her poetry that was to me Jane Eyre.
+
+"What then is left of me?" she enquired, stooping her eyes over the
+keys and smiling darkly. "Am I indeed so evanescent, a wintry wraith?"
+
+"Well," I said, "Jane Eyre is left."
+
+She pressed her lips together. "I see," she said brightly. "But then,
+was I not detestable too? so stubborn, so wilful, so demented,
+so--vain?"
+
+"You were vain," I answered, "because--"
+
+"Well?" she said, and the melody died out, and the lower voices of her
+music complained softly on.
+
+"For a barrier," I answered.
+
+"A barrier?" she cried.
+
+"Why, yes," I said, "a barrier against cant, and flummery, and
+coldness, and pride, and against--why, against your own vanity too."
+
+"That's really very clever--penetrating," she said; "and I really
+desired to know, not because I did not know already, but to know I
+knew all. You are a perspicacious observer, Mr. Brocken; and to be
+that is to be alive in a world of the moribund. But then too how high
+one must soar at times; for one must ever condescend in order to
+observe faithfully. At any rate, to observe all one must range at an
+altitude above all."
+
+"And so," I said, "you have taken your praise from me--"
+
+"But you are a man, and I a woman: we look with differing eyes, each
+sex to the other, and perceive by contrast. Else--why, how else could
+you forgive my presumption? He sees me as an eagle sees the creeping
+tortoise. I see him as the moon the sun, never weary of gazing. I
+borrow his radiance to observe him by. But I weary you with my
+garrulous tongue.... Have you no plan at all in your journey? 'Tis not
+the dangers, but to me the endless restlessness of such a
+venture--that 'Oh, where shall wisdom be found?'... Will you not
+pause?--stay with us a few days to consider again this rash journey?
+To each his world: it is surely perilous to transgress its fixed
+boundaries."
+
+"Who knows?" I cried, rather arrogantly perhaps. "The sorcery that
+lured me hither may carry me as lightly back. But I have tasted honey
+and covet the hive."
+
+She glanced sidelong at me with that stealthy gravity that lay under
+all her lightness.
+
+"That delicious Rosinante!" she exclaimed softly.... "And I really
+believe too _I_ must be the honey--or is it Mr. Rochester? Ah! Mr.
+Brocken, they call it wasp-honey when it is so bitter that it blisters
+the lips." She talked on gaily, as if she had forgotten I was but a
+stranger until now. Yet none the less she perceived presently my eyes
+ever and again fixed upon the little brooch of faintest gold hair at
+her throat, and flinched and paled, playing on in silence.
+
+"Take the whole past," she continued abruptly, "spread it out before
+you, with all its just defeats, all its broken faith, and overweening
+hopes, its beauty, and fear, and love, and its loss--its loss; then
+turn and say: this, this only, this duller heart, these duller eyes,
+this contumacious spirit is all that is left--myself. Oh! who could
+wish to one so dear a destiny so dark?" She rose hastily from the
+piano. "Did I hear Mr. Rochester's step by the window?" she said.
+
+I crossed the room and looked out into the night. The brightening moon
+hung golden in the dark clearness of the sky. Mr. Rochester stood
+motionless, Napoleon-wise, beneath the black, unstirring foliage. And
+before I could turn, Jane had begun to sing:--
+
+      You take my heart with tears;
+      I battle uselessly;
+    Reft of all hopes and doubts and fears,
+        Lie quietly.
+
+      You veil my heart with cloud;
+      Since faith is dim and blind,
+    I can but grope perplex'd and bow'd,
+        Seek till I find.
+
+      Yet bonds are life to me;
+      How else could I perceive
+    The love in each wild artery
+        That bids me live?
+
+Jane's was not a rich voice, nor very sweet, and yet I fancied no
+other voice than this could plead and argue quite so clearly and with
+such nimble insistency--neither of bird, nor child, nor brook;
+because, I suppose, it was the voice of Jane Eyre, and all that was
+Jane's seemed Jane's only.
+
+The music ceased, the accompaniment died away; but Mr. Rochester stood
+immobile yet--a little darker night in that much deeper. When I
+turned, Jane was gone from the room. I sat down, my face towards the
+still candles, as one who is awake, yet dreams on. The faint scent of
+the earth through the open window; the heavy, sombre furniture; the
+daintiness and the alertness in the many flowers and few womanly
+gew-gaws: these too I shall remember in a tranquillity that cannot
+change.
+
+A sudden, trembling glimmer at the window lit the garden and,
+instantaneously, the distant hills; lit also the figures of Jane and
+Mr. Rochester beneath the trees. They entered the house, and once more
+Jane drew the bolts against that phantom fear. A tinge of scarlet
+stood in her cheeks, an added lustre in her eyes. They were strange
+lovers, these two--like frost upon a cypress tree; yet summer lay all
+around us.
+
+I bade them good night and ascended to the little room prepared for
+me. There was a great pincushion on the sprigged and portly toilet
+table, and I laboured till the constellations had changed beyond my
+window, in printing from a box of tiny pins upon that lavendered
+mound, "Ave, Ave, atque Vale!"
+
+Far in the night a dreadful sound woke me. I rose and looked out of
+the window, and heard again, deep and reverberating, Pilot baying I
+know not what light minions of the moon. The Great Bear wheeled
+faintly clear in the dark zenith, but the borders of the east were
+grey as glass; and far away a fierce hound was answering from his
+echo-place in the gloom, as if the dread dog of Acheron kept post upon
+the hills.
+
+A light tap woke me in the sunlight, and a lighter voice. Mr.
+Rochester took breakfast with us in a gloomy old dressing-room, moody
+and taciturn, unpacified by sleep. But Jane, whimsical and deft, had
+tied a yellow ribbon in the darkness of her hair.
+
+Rosinante awaited me at the little green gate, eyeing forlornly the
+steep valley at her feet. And I rode on. The gate was shut on me; and
+Mr. Rochester again, perhaps, at his black ease.
+
+I had jogged on, with that peculiar gravity age brings to equine
+hoofs, about a mile, when the buttress of a thick wall came into view
+abutting on the lane, and perched thereon what at first I deemed a
+coloured figment of the mist that festooned the branches and clung
+along the turf. But when I drew near I saw it was indeed a child, pink
+and gold and palest blue. And she raised changeling hands at me, and
+laughed and danced and chattered like the drops upon a waterfall; and
+clear as if a tiny bell had jingled I heard her cry.
+
+And my heart smote me heavily since I had of my own courtesy not
+remembered Adele.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+    _Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, tu-witta-woo._
+
+    --THOMAS NASH.
+
+
+It was yet early, and refreshing in the chequered shade. We plodded
+earnestly after our gaunt shadow in the dust, and ever downward, till
+at last we drew so near to the opposite steep that I could well nigh
+count its pines.
+
+It was about the hour when birds seek shade and leave but few among
+their fellows to sing, that at a stone's throw from the foot of the
+hill I came to where a faint bridle-path diverged. And since it was
+smooth with moss, and Rosinante haply tired of pebbles; since any but
+the direct road seems ever the more delectable, I too turned aside,
+and broke into the woods through which this path meandered.
+
+Maybe it is because all woods are enchanted that the path seemed more
+than many miles long. Often too we loitered, or stood, head by head,
+to listen, or to watch what might be after all only wings, mere
+sunbeams. Shall I say, then, that it began to be thorny, and, where
+the thorns were, pale with roses, when at length the knitted boughs
+gradually drew asunder, and I looked down between twitching, hairy
+ears upon a glade so green and tranquil, I deemed it must be the
+Garden of the Hesperides?
+
+And because there ran a very welcome brook of water through this
+glade, I left Rosinante to follow whithersoever a sweet tooth might
+dictate, and climbed down into the weedy coolness at the waterbrink.
+
+I confess I laughed to see so puckered a face as mine in the clear
+blue of the flowing water. But I dipped my hands and my head into the
+cold shallows none the less pleasantly, and was casting about for a
+deeper pool where I might bathe unscorned of the noonday, when I heard
+a light laughter behind me, and, turning cautiously, perceived under
+the further shadow of the glade three ladies sitting.
+
+Not even vanity could persuade me that they were laughing at anything
+more grotesque than myself, so, putting a bold face on matters so
+humiliating, I sauntered as carelessly and loftily as I dared in their
+direction. My courage seemed to abash them a little; they gathered
+back their petticoats like birds about to fly. But at hint of a
+titter, they all three began gaily laughing again till their eyes
+sparkled brighter than ever, and their cheeks seemed shadows of the
+roses above their heads.
+
+"Ladies," I began gravely, "I have left my horse, that is very old and
+very thirsty, above in the wood. Is there any path I may discover by
+which she may reach the water without offence?"
+
+"Is she very old?" said one.
+
+"She is very old," I said.
+
+"But is she very thirsty?" said another.
+
+"She is perhaps very thirsty," I said.
+
+"Perhaps!" cried they all.
+
+"Because, ladies," I replied, "being by nature of a timid tongue, and
+compelled to say something, and having nothing apt to say, I
+remembered my old Rosinante above in the wood."
+
+They glanced each at each, and glanced again at me.
+
+"But there is no path down that is not steep," said the fairest of the
+three.
+
+"There never was a path, not even, we fear, for a traveller on foot,"
+continued the second.
+
+I waited in silence a moment. "Forgive me, then," I said; "I will
+offend no longer."
+
+But this seemed far from their design.
+
+"You see, being come," began the fairest again, "Julia thinks Fortune
+must have brought you. Are we not all between Fortune's finger and
+thumb?"
+
+"If pinching is to prove anything," said the other.
+
+"And Fortune is fickle, too," added Julia--"that's early wisdom; but
+not quite so fickle as you would wish to show her. Here we have sat in
+these mortal glades ever since our poor Herrick died. And here it
+seems we are like to sit till he rises again. It is all so--dubious.
+But since Electra has invited you to rest awhile, will you not really
+rest? There is shade as deep, and fruit to refresh you, in a little
+arbour yonder. Perhaps even Anthea will dip out of her weeping awhile
+if she hears that ... a poor old thirsty horse is tethered in the
+woods."
+
+They rose up together with a prolonged rustling as of a peacock
+displaying his plumes; and I found myself irretrievably their captive.
+
+Moreover, even if they were but sylphs and fantasies of the morning,
+they were fantasies lovely as even their master had portrayed; while
+the dells through which they led me were green and deep and white and
+golden with buds.
+
+It was now, I suppose, about the middle of the morning, yet though the
+sun was high, his heat was that of dawn. Dawn lingered in the shadows,
+as snow when winter is over and gone, and dwelt among the sunbeams.
+Dew lay heavy on the grass, as the dainty heels of my captresses
+testified, yet they trod lightly upon daisies wide-open to the blue
+sky, while daffadowndillies stooped in a silence broken only by their
+laughter.
+
+We came presently to a little stone summerhouse or arbour,
+enclustered with leaves and flowers of ivy and convolvulus, wherein
+two great dishes of cherries stood and bowls of honeycomb and
+sillabub.
+
+There we sat down; but they kept me close too in the midst of the
+arbour, where perhaps I was not so ill-content to be as I should like
+to profess. How then could I else than bob for cherries as often as I
+dared, and prove my wit to conceal my hunger?
+
+"And now, Sir Traveller," said she of the sparkling eyes, named
+Dianeme, "since we have got you safe, tell us of all we have never
+heard or seen!"
+
+"And oh! are we forgot?" cried Electra, laying a lip upon a cherry.
+
+"There's not a poet in his teens but warbles of you morn, noon, and
+night," I answered. "There's not a lover mad, young, true, and tender,
+but borrows your azure, and your rubies, and your roses, and your
+stars, to deck his sweetheart's name with."
+
+"Boys perhaps," cried Julia softly, "but _men_ soon forget."
+
+"Youth never," I replied.
+
+"Why 'Youth'?" said Dianeme. "Herrick was not always young."
+
+"Ay, but all men once were young, please God," I said, "and youth is
+the only 'once' that's worth remembrance. Youth with the heart of
+youth adores you, ladies; because, when dreams come thick upon them,
+they catch your flying laughter in the woods. When the sun is sunk,
+and the stars kindle in the sky, then your eyes haunt the twilight.
+You come in dreams, and mock the waking. You the mystery; you the
+bravery and danger; you the long-sought; you the never-won; memories,
+hopes, songs ere the earth is mute. You will always be loved, believe
+me, O bright ladies, till youth fades, turns, and loves no more." And
+I gazed amazed on cherries of such potency as these.
+
+"But once, sir," said Julia timidly, "we were not only loved but
+_told_ we were loved."
+
+"Where is the pleasure else?" cried Dianeme.
+
+"Besides," said Electra, "Anthea says if we might but find where Styx
+flows one draught--my mere palmful--would be sweeter than all the
+poetry ever writ, save some."
+
+"It is idle," cried Dianeme; "Herrick himself admired us most on
+paper."
+
+"And ink makes a cross even of a kiss, that is very well known," said
+Julia.
+
+"Ah!" said I, "all men have eyes; few see. Most men have tongues:
+there is but one Robin Herrick."
+
+"I will tell you a secret," said Dianeme.
+
+And as if a bird of the air had carried her voice, it seemed a hush
+fell on sky and greenery.
+
+"We are but fairy-money all," she said, "an envy to see. Take
+us!--'tis all dry leaves in the hand. Herrick stole the honey, and the
+bees he killed. Blow never so softly on the tinder, it flames--and
+dies."
+
+"I heard once," said Electra, with but a thought of pride, "that had I
+lived a little, little earlier, I might have been the Duchess of
+Malfi."
+
+"I too, Flatterer," cried Julia, "I too--Desdemona slain by a
+blackamoor. To some it is the cold hills and the valleys 'green and
+sad,' and the sea-birds' wailing," she continued in a low, strange
+voice, "and to some the glens of heather, and the mountain-brooks, and
+the rowans. But, come to an end, what are we all? This man's eyes will
+tell ye! I would give white and red, nectar and snow and roses, and
+all the similes that ever were for--"
+
+"For what?" said I.
+
+"I think, for Robin Herrick," she said.
+
+It was a lamentable confession, for that said, gravity fled away; and
+Electra fetched out a lute from a low cupboard in the arbour, and
+while she played Julia sang to a sober little melody I seemed to know
+of old:
+
+        Sighs have no skill
+        To wake from sleep
+    Love once too wild, too deep.
+
+        Gaze if thou will,
+        Thou canst not harm
+    Eyes shut to subtle charm.
+
+        Oh! 'tis my silence
+        Shows thee false,
+    Should I be silent else?
+
+        Haste thou then by!
+        Shine not thy face
+    On mine, and love's disgrace!
+
+Whereat Dianeme lifted on me so naive an afflicted face I must needs
+beseech another song, despite my drowsy lids. Wherefore I heard, far
+away as it were, the plucking of the strings, and a voice betwixt
+dream and wake sing:
+
+        All sweet flowers
+          Wither ever,
+        Gathered fresh
+          Or gathered never;
+    But to live when love is gone!--
+    Grieve, grieve, lute, sadly on!
+
+        All I had--
+          'Twas all thou gav'st me;
+        That foregone,
+          Ah! what can save me?
+    If the exorcised spirit fly,
+    Nought is left to love me by.
+
+        Take thy stars,
+          My tears then leave me;
+        Thine my bliss,
+          As thine to grieve me;
+    Take....
+
+For then, so insidious was the music, and not quite of this earth the
+voice, my senses altogether forsook me, and I fell asleep.
+
+Would that I could remember much else! But I confess it is the heart
+remembers, not the poor, pestered brain that has so many thoughts and
+but one troubled thinker. Indeed, were I now to be asked--Were the
+fingers cold of these bright ladies? Were their eyes blue, or hazel,
+or brown? or, haply, were Dianeme's that incomparable, dark, sparkling
+grey? Wore Julia azure, and Electra white? And was that our poet wrote
+our poet's only, or truly theirs, and so even more lovely?--I fear I
+could not tell.
+
+I fell asleep; and when I awoke no lute was sounding. I was alone; and
+the arbour a little house of gloom on the borders of evening. I caught
+up yet one more handful of cherries, and stumbled out, heavy and dim,
+into a pale-green firmanent of buds and glow-worms, to seek the poor
+Rosinante I had so heedlessly deserted.
+
+But I was gone but a little way when I was brought suddenly to a
+standstill by another sound that in the hush of the garden, in the
+bright languor after sleep, went to my heart: it was as if a child
+were crying.
+
+I pushed through a thick and aromatic clump of myrtles, and peering
+between the narrow leaves, perceived the cold, bright face of a little
+marble god beneath willows; and, seated upon a starry bank near by,
+one whom by the serpentry of her hair and the shadow of her lips I
+knew to be Anthea.
+
+"Why are you weeping?" I said.
+
+"I was imitating a little brook," she said.
+
+"It is late; the bat is up; yet you are alone," I said.
+
+"Pan will protect me," she said.
+
+"And nought else?"
+
+She turned her face away. "None," she said. "I live among shadows.
+There was a world, I dreamed, where autumn follows summer, and after
+autumn, winter. Here it is always June, despite us both."
+
+"What, then, would you have?" I said.
+
+"Ask him," she replied.
+
+But the little god looking sidelong was mute in his grey regard.
+
+"Why do you not run away? What keeps you here?"
+
+"You ask many questions, stranger! Who can escape? To live is to
+remember. To die--oh, who would forget! Even had I been weeping, and
+not merely mocking time away, would my tears be of Lethe at my mouth's
+corners? No," said Anthea, "why feign and lie? All I am is but a
+memory lovely with regret."
+
+She rose, and the myrtles concealed her from me. And I, in the midst
+of the dusk where the tiny torches burned sadly--I turned to the
+sightless eyes of that smiling god.
+
+What he knew, being blind, yet smiling, I seemed to know then. But
+that also I have forgotten.
+
+I whistled softly and clearly into the air, and a querulous voice
+answered me from afar--the voice of a grasshopper--Rosinante's.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+    _How should I your true love know
+    From another one?_
+
+    --WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+But even then she was difficult finding, so cunningly had ivy and
+blackberry and bindweed woven snares for the trespasser's foot.
+
+But at last--not far from where we had parted--I found her, a pillar
+of smoke in the first shining of the moon. She turned large,
+smouldering eyes on me, her mane in elf locks, her flanks heaving and
+wet, her forelock frizzed like a colt's. Yet she showed only pleasure
+at seeing me, and so evident a desire to unburden the day's history,
+that I almost wished I might be Balaam awhile, and she--Dapple!
+
+It would be idle to attempt to ride through these thick, glimmering
+brakes. The darkness was astir. And as the moon above the valley
+brightened, casting pale beams upon the folded roses and drooping
+branches, if populous dream did not deceive me, a tiny multitude was
+afoot in the undergrowth--small horns winding, wee tapers burning.
+
+Presently as with Rosinante's nose at my shoulder we pushed slowly
+forward, a nightingale burst close against my ear into so passionate a
+descant I thought I should be gooseflesh to the end of my days.
+
+The heedless tumult of her song seemed to give courage to sounds and
+voices much fainter. Soon a lovelit rival in some distant thicket
+broke into song, and far and near their voices echoed above the elfin
+din of timbrel and fife and hunting-horn. I began to wish the moon
+away that dazzled my eyes, yet could not muffle my ears.
+
+In the heavy-laden boughs dim lanterns burned. There, indeed, when we
+dipped into the deeper umbrage of some loftier tree, I espied the
+pattering hosts--creatures my Dianeme might have threaded for a
+bangle, yet breeched and armed and fiercely martial.
+
+Down, too, in a watery dell of harts-tongue, around the root of a
+swelling fungus, a lovely company floated of an insubstantiality
+subtile as taper-smoke, and of a beauty as remote as the babes in
+children's eyes.
+
+We passed unheeded. Four bearded hoofs rose and fell upon the moss
+with all the circumspection snorting Rosinante could compass. But one
+might as well go snaring moonbeams as dream to crush such airy beings.
+Ever and again a gossamer company would soar like a spider on his
+magic thread, and float with a whisper of remotest music past my ear;
+or some bolder pigmy, out of the leaves we brushed in passing, skip
+suddenly across the rusty amphitheatre of my saddle into the further
+covert.
+
+So we wandered on, baffled and confused, through a hundred pathless
+glens and dells till already gold had begun to dim the swelling moon's
+bright silver, and by the freshness and added sweetness of the air it
+seemed dawn must be near, when, on a sudden, a harsh, preposterous
+voice broke on my ear, and such a see-saw peal of laughter as I have
+never tittered in sheer fellowship with before, or since. We stood
+listening, and the voice broke out again.
+
+"Tittany--nay, Tittany, you'll crack my sides with laughing. Have
+again at you! love your master and you'll wax nimble. Bottom will
+learn you all. Trust Time and Bottom; though in sooth your weeny
+Majesty is something less than natural. Drive thy straw deeper,
+Mounsieur Mustardseed! there squats a pestilent sweet notion in that
+chamber could spellican but set him capering. Prithee your mousemilk
+hand on this smooth brow, mistress! Your nectar throbbeth like a
+blacksmith's anvil. Master Moth, draw you these bristling lashes down,
+they mirk the stars and call yon nothing Quince to mind--a vain,
+official knave, in and out, to and fro, play or pleasure; and old Sam
+Snout, the wanton! Lad's days and all--'twas life, Tittany; and I was
+ever foremost. They'd bob and crook to me like spaniels at a trencher.
+Mine was the prettiest conceit, this way, that way, past all
+unravelling till envy stretched mine ears. Now I'm old dreams. Gone
+all men's joy, your worships, since Bully Bottom took to moonshine.
+Where floats your babe's-hand now, Dame Lovepip?"
+
+There he lolled, immortal Bottom, propped on a bed of asphodel and
+moly that seemed to curd the moonshine; and at his side, Titania slim
+and scarlet, and shimmering like a bride-cake. The sky was dark above
+the tapering trees, but here in the secret woods light seemed to cling
+in flake and scarf. And it so chanced as our two noses leaned forward
+into his retreat that Bottom's head lolled back upon its pillow, and
+his bright, simple eyes stared deep into our own.
+
+"Save me, ye shapes of nought," he bellowed, "no more, no more, for
+love's sake. I begin to see what men call red Beelzebub, and that's an
+end to all true fellowship. Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, Signior
+Cobweb, I beseech you--a little fiery devil with four eyes floats in
+my brain, and flame's a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! avaunt ye! Would now
+my true friend Bottom the weaver were at my side. His was a courage
+to make princes great. Prithee, Queen Tittany, no more such cozening
+possets!"
+
+I drew Rosinante back into the leaves.
+
+"Droop now thy honeyed lids, my dearest love!" I heard a clear voice
+answer. "There's nought can harm thee in these silvered woods: no bird
+that pipes but love incites his throat, and never a dewdrop wells but
+whispers peace!"
+
+"Ay, ay, 'tis very well, you have a gift, you have a gift, Tittany's
+for twisting words to sugarsticks. But la, there, what wots your
+trickling whey of that coal-piffling Prince of Flies! I'm Bottom the
+weaver, I am. He knows not his mother's ring-finger that knows not
+Nick Bottom. Back, back, ye jigging dreams! 'Tis Puckling nods. Ha'
+done, ha' done--there's no sweet sanity in an asshead more if I quaff
+their elvish ... Out now ... Ha' done, I say!"
+
+Then indeed he slumbered truly, this engarlanded weaver, his lids
+concealing all bright speculation, his jowl of vanity (foe of the
+Philistine) at peace: and I might gaze unperceived. The moon filled
+his mossy cubicle with her untrembling beams, streamed upon blossoms
+sweet and heavy as Absalom's hair, while tiny plumes wafted into the
+night the scent of thyme and meadow-sweet.
+
+I know not how long they would have kept me prisoner with their
+illusive music. I dared not move, scarce wink; for much as immortality
+may mollify hairiness, I had no wish to live too frank.
+
+How, also, would this weaver who slumbered so cacophonously welcome a
+rival to his realms. I say I sat still, like Echo in the woods when
+none is calling; like too, I grant, one who ached not a little after
+jolts and jars and the phantasmal mists of this engendering air. But
+none stirred, nor went, nor came. So resting my hands cautiously on a
+little witch's guild of toadstools that squatted cold in shade, I
+lifted myself softly and stood alert.
+
+And in a while out of that numerous company stepped one whom by his
+primrose face and mien I took to be Mounsieur Mustardseed, and I
+followed after him.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+    _Care-charming Sleep ...
+    ... sweetly thyself dispose
+    On this afflicted prince!_
+
+    --JOHN FLETCHER.
+
+
+Away with a blink of his queer green eye over his shoulder he
+sauntered by a devious path out of the dell. Forgetful of thorn and
+brier, trickery and wantonness, we clambered down after him, out of
+the moonlight, into a dark, clear alley, soundless and solitary amid
+these enchanted woods.
+
+As I have said already, another air than that of night was abroad in
+the green-grey shadows of the woods. Yet between the lofty and
+heavy-hooded pines scarce a beam of dawn pierced downward.
+
+Wider swept the avenue, but ever dusky and utterly silent. Deeper moss
+couched here; unfallen moondrops glistened; mistletoe palely sprouted
+from the gnarled boughs. Nor could I discern, though I searched close
+enough, elder or ash tree or bitter rue. We journeyed softly on till I
+lost all count of time, lost, too, all guidance; for as a flower falls
+had vanished Mustardseed.
+
+Far away and ever increasing in volume I heard the trembling crash of
+some great water falling. What narrow isles of sky were visible
+between the branches lay sunless and still. Yet already, on a mantled
+pool we journeyed softly by, the waterlily was unfolding, the swan
+afloat in beauty.
+
+In a dim, still light we at last slowly descended out of the darker
+glade into a garden of grey terraces and flowerless walks. Even
+Rosinante seemed perturbed by the stillness and solitude of this wild
+garden. She trod with cautious foot and peering eye the green,
+rainworn paths, that led us down presently to where beneath the vault
+of its trees a river flowed.
+
+Surely I could not be mistaken that here a voice was singing as if out
+of the black water-deeps, so clear and hollow were the notes. I burst
+through the knotted stalks of the ivy, and stooping like some poor
+travesty of Narcissus, with shaded face pierced down deep--deep into
+eyes not my own, but violet and unendurable and strange--eyes of the
+living water-sprite drawing my wits from me, stilling my heart, till I
+was very near plunging into that crystal oblivion, to be fishes
+evermore.
+
+But my fingers still grasped my friend's kind elf-locks, and her
+goose-nose brooded beside mine upon that water of undivulged delight.
+Out of the restless silence of the stream floated this long-drawn
+singing:
+
+    Pilgrim forget; in this dark tide
+    Sinks the salt tear to peace at last;
+    Here undeluding dreams abide,
+        All sorrow past.
+
+    Nods the wild ivy on her stem;
+    The voiceless bird broods on the bough;
+    The silence and the song of them
+        Untroubled now.
+
+    Free that poor captive's flutterings,
+    That struggles in thy tired eyes,
+    Solace its discontented wings,
+        Quiet its cries!
+
+    Knells now the dewdrop to its fall,
+    The sad wind sleeps no more to rove;
+    Rest, for my arms ambrosial
+        Ache for thy love!
+
+I cannot think how one so meekened with hunger as I, resisted that
+water-troubled hair, eyes that yet haunt me, that heart-alluring
+voice.
+
+"No, no," I said faintly, and the words of Anthea came unbidden to
+mind, "to sleep--oh! who would forget? You plead merely with some old
+dream of me--not _all_ me, you know. Gold is but witchcraft. And as
+for sorrow--spread me a magical table in this nettle-garden, I'll
+leave all melancholy!"
+
+I must indeed have been exhausted to chop logic with a water-witch. As
+well argue with minnows, entreat the rustling of ivy-leaves. It was
+Rosinante, wearying, I suppose, of the reflection of her own mild
+countenance, that drew me back from dream and disaster. She turned
+with arched neck seeking a more wholesome pasture than these deep
+mosses.
+
+Leaving her then to her own devices, and yet hearkening after the
+voice of the charmer, I came out again into the garden, and perceived
+before me a dark palace with one lofty tower.
+
+It seemed strange I had not seen the tower at my first coming into
+this wilderness. It stood with clustered summit and stooping
+gargoyles, appealing as it were to fear, in utter silence.
+
+Though I knew it must be day, there was scarcely more than a green
+twilight around me, ever deepening, until at last I could but dimly
+discern the upper windows of the palace, and all sound waned but the
+roar of distant falling water.
+
+Then it was I found that I was not alone in the garden. Two little
+leaden children stood in an attitude of listening on either side of
+the carved porch of the palace, and between them a figure that seemed
+to be watching me intently.
+
+I looked and looked again--saw the green-grey folds, the tawny locks,
+the mistletoe, the unearthly eyes of this unstirring figure, yet, when
+I advanced but one strenuous pace, saw nought--only the little leaden
+boys and the porch between them.
+
+These childish listeners, the straggling briers, the impenetrable
+thickets, the emerald gloaming, the marble stillness of the lofty
+lichenous tower: I took courage. Could such things be in else than
+Elfland? And she who out of beauty and being vanishes and eludes, what
+else could she be than one of Elfland's denizens from whom a light and
+credulous heart need fear nothing.
+
+I trod like a shadow where the phantom had stood and opened the unused
+door. I was about to pass into the deeper gloom of the house when a
+hound appeared and stood regarding me with shining eyes in the faint
+gloaming. He was presently joined by one as light-footed, but
+milk-white and slimmer, and both turned their heads as if in question
+of their master, who had followed close behind them.
+
+This personage, because of the gloom, or the better to observe the
+intruder on his solitude, carried a lantern whose beams were reflected
+upon himself, attired as he was from head to foot in the palest
+primrose, but with a countenance yet paler.
+
+There was no hint of enmity or alarm or astonishment in the
+colourless eyes that were fixed composedly on mine, nothing but
+courtesy in his low voice.
+
+"Back, Safte!--back, Sallow!" he cried softly to his hounds; "is this
+your civility? Indeed, sir," he continued to me, "it was all I could
+do to dissuade the creatures from giving tongue when you first
+appeared on the terrace of my solitary gardens. I heard too the
+water-sprite: she only sings when footsteps stray upon the banks." He
+smiled wanly, and his nose seemed even sharper in his pale face, and
+his yellow hair leaner about his shoulders. "I feared her voice might
+prove too persuasive, and deprive me of the first strange face I have
+seen these many decades gone."
+
+I bowed and murmured an apology for my intrusion, just as I might
+perhaps to some apparition of nightmare that over-stayed its welcome.
+
+"I beseech you, sir," he replied, "say no more! It may be I deemed you
+at first a visitor perchance even more welcome--if it be possible,...
+yet I know not that either. My name is Ennui,"--he smiled
+again--"Prince Ennui. You have, perchance, heard somewhere our sad
+story. This is the perpetual silence wherein lies that once-happy
+princess, my dear sister, Sleeping Beauty."
+
+His voice seemed but an echo amongst the walls and arches of this old
+house, and he spoke with a suave enunciation as if in an unfamiliar
+tongue.
+
+I replied that I had read the ever-lovely story of Sleeping Beauty,
+indeed knew it by heart, and assured him modestly that I had not the
+least doubt of a happy ending--"that is, if the author be the least
+authority."
+
+He narrowed his lids. "It is a tradition," he replied; "meanwhile, the
+thickets broaden."
+
+Whereupon I begged him to explain how it chanced that among that
+festive and animated company I had read of, he alone had resisted the
+wicked godmother's spell.
+
+He smiled distantly, and bowed me into the garden.
+
+"That is a simple thing," he said.
+
+Yet for the life of me I could not but doubt all he told me. He who
+could pass spring on to spring, summer on to summer, in the company of
+beasts so sly and silent, so alert and fleet as these hounds of his,
+could not be quite the amiable prince he feigned to be. I began to
+wish myself in homelier places.
+
+It seems that on the morning of the fatal spindle, he had gone
+coursing, with this Safte and Sallow and his horse named "Twilight,"
+and after wearying and heating himself at the sport, a little after
+noon, leaving his attendants, had set out to return to the palace
+alone. But allured by the cool seclusion of a "lattice-arbour" in his
+path, he had gone in, and then and there, "Twilight" beneath the
+willows, his hounds at his feet, had fallen asleep.
+
+Undisturbed, dreamless, "the unseemly hours sped light of foot." He
+awoke again, between sunset and dark; the owl astir; "the silver gnats
+yet netting the shadows," and so returned to the palace.
+
+But the spell had fallen--king and courtier, queen and lady and page
+and scullion, hawk and hound, slept a sleep past waking--"while I,
+roamed and roam yet in a solitary watch beyond all sleeping.
+Wherefore, sir, I only of the most hospitable house in these lands am
+awake to bid you welcome. But as for that, a few dwindling and harsh
+fruits in my orchards, and the cold river water that my dogs lap with
+me, are all that is left to offer you. For I who never sleep am never
+hungry, and they who never wake--I presume--never thirst. Would, sir,
+it were otherwise! After such long silence, then, conceive how
+strangely falls your voice on ears that have heard only wings
+fluttering, dismal water-songs, and the yelp and quarrel and
+night-voice of unseen hosts in the forests."
+
+He glanced at me with a mild austerity and again lowered his eyes. I
+cannot now but wonder how the rhythm of a voice so soft, so
+monotonous, could give such pleasure to the ear. I almost doubted my
+own eyes when I looked upon his yellow, on that unmoved, sad, mad,
+pale face.
+
+I had no doubt of his dogs, however, and walked scarcely at ease
+beside him, while they, shadow-footed, closely followed us at heel.
+
+"Prince Ennui" conducted me with shining lantern into a dense orchard
+thickly under-grown, marvellously green, with a small, hard fruit upon
+its branches, shaped like a medlar, of a crisp, sweet odour and,
+despite its hardness, a delicious taste. The interwoven twigs of the
+stooping trees were thickly nested; a veritable wilderness of moonlike
+and starry flowers ran all to seed amid the nettles and nightshade of
+this green silence. And while I ate--for I was hungry enough--Prince
+Ennui stood, his hand on Sallow's muzzle, lightly thridding the dusky
+labyrinths of the orchard with his faint green eyes.
+
+Mine, too, were not less busy, but rather with its lord than with his
+orchard. And the strange thought entered my mind, Was he in very deed
+the incarnation of this solitude, this silence, this lawless
+abundance? Somewhere, in the green heats of summer, had he come forth,
+taken shape, exalted himself? What but vegetable ichor coursed through
+veins transparent as his? What but the swarming mysteries of these
+thick woods lurked in his brain? As for his hounds, theirs was the
+same stealth, the same symmetry, the same cold, secret unhumanity as
+his. Creatures begotten of moonlight on silence they seemed to me,
+with instincts past my workaday wits to conceive.
+
+And Rosinante! I laughed softly to think of her staid bones beside the
+phantom creature this prince had called up to me at mention of
+"Twilight."
+
+I ate because I was ravenously hungry, but also because, while eating,
+I was better at my ease.
+
+Suddenly out of the stillness, like an arrow, Safte was gone; and far
+away beneath the motionless leaves a faint voice rang dwindling into
+silence. I shuddered at my probable fate.
+
+Prince Ennui glanced lightly. "When the magic horn at last resounds,"
+he said, "how strange a flight it will be! These thorny briers
+encroach ever nearer on my palace walls. I am a captive ever less at
+ease. Summer by summer the sun rises shorn yet closer of his beams,
+and now the lingering transit of the moon is but from one wood by a
+narrow crystal arch to another. They will have me yet, sir. How weary
+will the sleepy ones be of my uneasy footfall!"
+
+And even as Safte slipped softly back to his watching mate, the patter
+and shrill menace of voices behind him hinted not all was concord
+between these hidden multitudes and their unseemly prince.
+
+The master-stars shone earlier here; already sparkling above the tower
+was a canopy of clearest darkness spread, while the leafy fringes of
+the sky glowed yet with changing fires.
+
+We returned to the lawns before the palace porch, and, with his
+lantern in his hand, the Prince signed to me to go in. I was not a
+little curious to view that enchanted household of which I had read so
+often and with so much delight as a child.
+
+In the banqueting-hall only the matted windows were visible in the
+lofty walls. Prince Ennui held his lantern on high, and by its flame,
+and the faint light that flowed in from above, I could presently see,
+distinct in gloom, as many sleepers as even Night could desire.
+
+Here they reclined just as sorcerous sleep had overtaken them. But how
+dimmed, how fallen! For Time that could not change the sleeper had
+changed with quiet skill all else. Tarnished, dusty, withered,
+overtaken, yellowed, and confounded lay banquet and cloth-of-gold,
+flagon, cup, fine linen, table, and stool. But in all the ruin, like
+buds of springtime in a bare wood, or jewels in ashes, slumbered youth
+and beauty and bravery and delight.
+
+I lifted my eyes to the King. The gold of his divinity was fallen, his
+splendour quenched; but life's dark scrutiny from his face was gone.
+He made no stir at our light, slumbered untreasoned on. The lids of
+his Queen were lightlier sealed, only withheld beauty as a cloud the
+sky it hides. His courtiers flattered more elusively, being sincerely
+mute, and only a little red dust was all the wine left.
+
+I seemed to hear their laughter clearer now that the jest was
+forgotten, and to admire better the pomp, and the mirth, and the
+grace, and the vanity, now that time had so far travelled from this
+little tumult once their triumph.
+
+In a kind of furtive bravado, I paced the length of the long, thronged
+tables. Here sat a little prince that captivated me, dipping his
+fingers into his cup with a sidelong glance at his mother. There a
+high officer, I know not how magnificent and urgent when awake,
+slumbered with eyes wide open above his discouraged moustaches.
+
+Simply for vanity of being awake in such a sleepy company, I strutted
+conceitedly to and fro. I bent deftly and pilfered a little cockled
+cherry from between the very fingertips of her whose heart was
+doubtless like its--quite hard. And the bright lips never said a word.
+I sat down, rather clownishly I felt, beside an aged and simpering
+chancellor that once had seemed wise, but now seemed innocent,
+nibbling a biscuit crisp as scandal. For after all the horn _would_
+sound. Childhood had been quite sure of that--needed not even the
+author's testimony. They were alert to rise, scattering all dust,
+victors over Time and outrageous Fortune.
+
+Almost with a cry of apprehension I perceived again the solitary
+Prince. But he merely smiled faintly. "You see, sir," he said, "how
+weary must a guardianship be of them who never tire. The snow falls,
+and the bright light falls on all these faces; yet not even my Lady
+Melancholy stirs a dark lid. And all these dog-days--" He glanced at
+his motionless hounds. They raised languidly their narrow heads,
+whimpering softly, as if beseeching of their master that long-delayed
+supper--haplessly me. "No, no, sirs," said the Prince, as if he had
+read their desire as easily as he whom it so much concerned. "Guard,
+guard, and hearken. This gentleman is not the Prince we await, Sallow;
+not the Prince, Safte! And now, sir,"--he turned again to me--"there
+is yet one other sleeper--she who hath brought so much quietude on a
+festive house."
+
+We climbed the staircase where dim light lay so invitingly, and came
+presently to a little darker chamber. Green, blunt things had pushed
+and burst through the casement. The air smelled faintly-sour of brier,
+and was as still as boughs of snow. There the not-unhappy Princess
+reclined before a looking-glass, whither I suppose she had run to view
+her own alarm when the sharp needle pierced her thumb. All alarm was
+stilled now on her face. She, one might think, of all that company of
+the sleepy, was the only one that dreamed. Her youthful lips lay a
+little asunder; the heavy beauty of her hair was parted on her
+forehead; her childish hands sidled together like leverets in her lap.
+"Why!" I cried aloud, almost involuntarily, "she breathes!"
+
+And at sound of my voice the hounds leapt back; and, on a traveller's
+oath, I verily believe, once, and how swiftly, and how fearfully and
+brightly, those childish lids unsealed their light as of lilac that
+lay behind, glanced briefly, fleetingly, on one who had ventured so
+far, and fell again to rest.
+
+"And when," I cried harshly, "when will that laggard burst through
+this agelong silence? Here's dust enough for all to see. And all this
+ruin, this inhospitable peace!"
+
+Prince Ennui glanced strangely at me.
+
+"I assure you, O suddenly enkindled," he said in his suave, monotonous
+voice, "it is not for _my_ indifference he does not come. I would
+willingly sleep; these--my dear sister, all these old fineries and
+love-jinglers would as fain wake." He turned away his treacherous eyes
+from me. "Maybe the Lorelei hath snared him!..." he said, smiling.
+
+I relished not at all the thought of sleeping in this mansion of
+sleep. Yet it seemed politic to refrain from giving offence to fangs
+apparently so eager to take it. Accordingly I followed this Ennui to a
+loftier chamber yet that he suggested for me.
+
+Once there, however, and his soft footfall passed away, I looked about
+me, first to find a means for keeping trespassers from coming in, and
+next to find a means for getting myself out.
+
+It was a long and arduous, but not a perilous, descent from the window
+by the thick-grown greenery that cumbered the walls. But I determined
+to wait awhile before venturing,--wait, too, till I could see plainly
+where Rosinante had made her night-quarters. By good fortune I
+discovered her beneath the greenish moon that hung amid mist above the
+forest, stretching a disconsolate neck at the waterside as if in
+search of the Lorelei.
+
+When, as it seemed to me, it must be nearing dawn, though how the
+hours flitted so swiftly passed my comprehension, I very cautiously
+climbed out of my narrow window and descended slowly to the lawns
+beneath. My foot had scarcely touched ground when ringing and menacing
+from some dark gallery of the palace above me broke out a distant
+baying.
+
+Nothing shall persuade me to tell how fast I ran; how feverishly I
+haled poor Rosinante out of sleep, and pushed her down into the deeps
+of that coal-black stream; with what agility I clambered into the
+saddle.
+
+Yet I could not help commiserating the while the faithful soul who
+floated beneath me. The stream was swift but noiseless, the water
+rather rare than cold, yet, despite all the philosophy beaming out of
+her maidenly eyes across the smooth surface of the tide, Rosinante
+must have preferred from the bottom of her heart dry land.
+
+I, too, momentarily, when I discovered that we were speedily
+approaching the roaring fall whose reverberations I had heard long
+since.
+
+Out of the emerald twilight we floated from beneath the overarching
+thickets. Pale beams were striking from the risen sun upon the gliding
+surface, and dwelt in splendour where danger sat charioted beneath a
+palely gorgeous bow. Yet I doubt if ever mortal man swept on to defeat
+at last so rapturously as I.
+
+The gloomier trees had now withdrawn from the banks of the river. A
+pale morning sky over-canopied the shimmering forests. Here rose the
+solitary tower where Echo tarried for the Hornblower. And straight
+before us, across that level floor, beyond a tremulous cloud of foam
+and light and colour, lurked the unseen, the unimaginable, the
+ever-dreamed-of, Death.
+
+Heedless of Lorelei, heedless of all save the beauty and terror and
+glory in which they rode, down swept snorting ship and master to doom.
+
+The crystal water jargoned past my saddle. Sky, earth, and tower, like
+the panorama of a dream, wheeled around me. Light blinded me; clamour
+deafened me; foam and the pure wave and cold darkness whelmed over me.
+We surged, paused, gazed, nodded, crashed:--and so an end to Ennui.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+    _He loves to talk with marineres
+    That come from a far countree._
+
+    --SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+
+How long my body was the sport of that foaming water I cannot tell.
+But when I again opened my eyes, I found, first, that the sun was
+shining dazzling clear high above me, and, next, that the delightful
+noise of running water babbled close against my ear. I lay upon a
+strip of warm sward by the river's brink. Near by me grew some
+rank-smelling waterside plant, and overhead the air seemed peopled
+with larks.
+
+I crawled, confused and aching, to the water, and dipped my head and
+hands into the cold rills. This soon refreshed me, for the sun had, it
+would seem, long been dwelling on that passive corse of mine by the
+waterside and had parched it to the skin.
+
+But it was some little while yet before my mind returned fully to
+what had passed, and so to my loss.
+
+I sat looking at the grey, noisy water, almost incredulous that
+Rosinante could be gone. It might be that the same hand as must have
+drawn myself from drowning had snatched her bridle also out of Fate's
+grasp. Perhaps even now she was seeking her master by the greener
+pasture of the wide plains around me. Perhaps the far-off sea was her
+green sepulchre. But many waters cannot quench love. I faced,
+friendless and discomfited, a region as strange to me as the farther
+side of the moon.
+
+Without more ado I rose, shook myself, and sadly began to go forward.
+But I had taken only a few steps along the banks of the stream--for
+here was fresh water, at least--when a sound like distant thunder
+rolled over these flat, green lands towards me, increasing steadily in
+volume.
+
+I stood, lost in wonder, and presently, at the distance, perhaps, of a
+little less than a mile, descried an innumerable herd of horses
+streaming across these level pastures, and at the extremity, it
+seemed, of a wide ellipse, that had brought them near, and now was
+galloping them away.
+
+My heart beat a little faster at this extraordinary spectacle. And
+while I stood in uncertainty gazing after the retreating concourse, I
+perceived a figure running towards me, lifting his hands and crying
+out in a voice sonorous and inhuman. He was of a stature much above my
+own, yet so gross in shape and immense of head he seemed at first
+almost dwarfish. He came to a stand twenty paces or so from me, on the
+ridge of a gentle inclination, and gazed down on me with wild, bright
+eyes. Even at this distance I could perceive the almost colourless
+lustre of his eyes beneath his thick locks of yellow hair. When he had
+taken his fill of me, he lifted his head again and cried out to me a
+few words of what certainly might be English, but was neither
+intelligible nor reassuring.
+
+I stood my ground and stared him in the face, till I could see nothing
+but wind-blown yellow, and strange, brutal eyes. Then he advanced a
+little nearer. Whereupon I also raised my hand with a gesture like
+his own, and demanded loudly where I was, what was this place, and who
+was he. His very ears pricked forward, he listened so intently. He
+came nearer yet, then stayed, tossed his head into the air, whirled
+the long leather thong he carried above his head, and, signing to me
+to follow, set off with so swift and easy a stride as would soon have
+carried him out of sight, had he not turned and perceived how slowly I
+could follow him.
+
+He slackened his pace then, and, thus running, we came in sight at
+length of what appeared to be a vast wooden shed, or barn, with one
+rude chimney, and surrounded by a thick fence, or stockade, many feet
+high and apparently of immense strength and stability.
+
+In the gateway of this fence stood the master of these solitudes, his
+eyes fixed strangely on my coming with an intense, I had almost said
+incredulous, interest. Nor did he cease so to regard me, while the
+creature that had conducted me thither, told, I suppose, where he had
+found me, and poured out with childish zeal his own amazement and
+delight. By this time, too, his voice had begun to lose its first
+strangeness, and to take a meaning for me. And I was presently fully
+persuaded he spoke a kind of English, and that not unpleasingly, with
+a liquid, shrill, voluminous ease. His master listened patiently
+awhile, but at last bade his servant be silent, and himself addressed
+me.
+
+"I am informed, Yahoo," he said with peculiar deliberation, "that you
+have been borne down into my meadows by the river, and fetched out
+thence by my servant. Be aware, then, that all these lands from
+horizon to horizon are mine and my people's. I desire no tidings of
+what follies may be beyond my boundaries, no aid, and no amity. I
+admit no trespasser here and will bear with none. It appears, however,
+that your life has passed beyond your own keeping: I may not,
+therefore, refuse you shelter and food, and to have you conducted in
+safety beyond my borders. Have the courtesy, then, to keep within
+shelter of these walls till the night be over. Else"--he gazed out
+across the verdant undulations--"else, Yahoo, I have no power to
+protect you."
+
+He turned once more, and regarded me with a lofty yet tender
+recognition, as if, little though his speech might profess it, he very
+keenly desired my safety.
+
+He then stepped aside and bade me rather sharply enter the gate before
+him. I tried to show none of the mistrust I felt at passing out of
+these open lands into this repellent yard. I glanced at the
+shock-haired creature, alert, half-human, beside me; across the
+limitless savannah around me, echoing yet, it seemed, with the rumour
+of innumerable hoofs; and bowing, as it were, to odds, I went in.
+
+On the other hand, I felt my host had been frank with me. If this was
+indeed the same Lemuel Gulliver whose repute my infancy had prized so
+well, I need have no fear of blood and treachery at his hands, however
+primitive and disgusting his household, or distorted his intellect
+might be. He who had proved no tyrant in Lilliput, nor quailed before
+the enormities of Brobdingnag, might abhor the sight of me; he would
+not play me false.
+
+His servant, or whatsoever else he might be, I considered not quite
+so calmly. Yet even in _his_ broad countenance dwelt a something like
+bright honesty, less malice than simplicity.
+
+Wherefore, I say, I ordered down my cowardice, and, looking both of
+them as squarely in the face as I knew how, passed out of the open
+into the appalling yard of this wooden house.
+
+I say "appalling," but without much reason. Perhaps it was the
+unseemly hugeness of its balks, the foul piles of skins, the mounds of
+refuse that lay about within; perhaps the all-pervading beastly
+stench, the bareness and filthiness under so glassy-clear and fierce a
+sun that revolted me. All man's seemliness and affection for the
+natural things of earth were absent. Here was only a brutal and bald
+order, as of an intelligence like that of the yellow-locked,
+swift-footed creature behind me. Perhaps also it was the mere
+unfamiliarity of much I saw there that estranged me. All lay in
+neglect, cracked and marred with rough usage,--coarse strands of a
+kind of rope, strips of hide, gaping tubs, a huge and rusty brazier,
+and in one corner a great cage, many feet square and surmounted with
+an iron ring.
+
+I know not. I almost desired Sallow at my side, and would to heaven
+Rosinante's nose lay in my palm.
+
+Within the house a wood-fire burned in the sun, its smoke ascending to
+the roof, and flowing thence through a rude chimney. A pot steamed
+over the fire, burdening the air with a savour at first somewhat faint
+and disgusting,--perhaps because it was merely strange to me. The
+walls of this lofty room were of rough, substantial timber, bare and
+weatherproof; the floor was of the colour of earth, seemingly earth
+itself. A few rude stools, a bench, and a four-legged table stood
+beside the unshuttered window. And from this stretched the beauteous
+green of the grass-land or prairie beyond the stockade.
+
+The house, then, was built on the summit of a gentle mound, and
+doubtless commanded from its upper window the extreme reaches of this
+sea of verdure.
+
+I sat down where Mr. Gulliver directed me, and was not displeased with
+the warmth of the fire, despite the sun. I was cold after that long,
+watery lullaby, and cold too with exhaustion after running so far at
+the heels of the creature who had found me. And I dwelt in a kind of
+dream on the transparent flames, and watched vacantly the seething
+pot, and smelt till slowly appetite returned the smoke of the stuff
+that bubbled beneath its lid.
+
+Mr. Gulliver himself brought me my platter of this pottage, and though
+it tasted of nothing in my experience--a kind of sweet, cloying
+meat--I was so tired of the fruits to which enterprise had as yet
+condemned me, I ate of it hungrily and heartily. Yet not so fast as
+that the young "Gulliver" had not finished his before me, and sat at
+length watching every mouthful I took from beneath his sun-enticing
+thatch of hair. Ever and again he would toss up his chin with a shrill
+guffaw, or stoop his head till his eyeballs were almost hidden
+beneath their thick lashes, so regarding me for minutes together with
+a delightful simulation of intelligence, yet with that peculiar
+wistful affection his master had himself exhibited at first sight of
+me.
+
+But when our meal was done, Mr. Gulliver ordered him about his
+business. Without a murmur, with one last, long, brotherly glance at
+me, he withdrew. And presently after I heard from afar his high,
+melancholy "cooee," and the crack of his thong in the afternoon air as
+he hastened out to his charges.
+
+My companion did not stir. Only the flames waved silently along the
+logs. The beam of sunlight drew across the floor. The crisp air of the
+pasture flowed through the window. What wonder, then, that, sitting on
+my stool, I fell asleep!
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+    _If I see all, ye're nine to ane!_
+
+    --OLD BALLAD.
+
+
+I was awoke by a sustained sound as of an orator speaking in an
+unknown tongue, and found myself in a sunny-shadowy loft, whither I
+suppose I must have been carried in my sleep. In a delicious languor
+between sleeping and waking I listened with imperturbable curiosity
+awhile to that voice of the unknown. Indeed, I was dozing again when a
+different sound, enormous, protracted, abruptly aroused me. I got up,
+hot and trembling, not yet quite my own master, to discover its cause.
+
+Through a narrow slit between the timbers I could view the country
+beneath me, far and wide. I saw near at hand the cumbrous gate of the
+stockade ajar, and at a little distance on the farther side Mr.
+Gulliver and his half-human servant standing. In front of them was an
+empty space--a narrow semicircle of which Gulliver was the centre. And
+beyond--wild-eyed, dishevelled, stretching their necks as if to see,
+inclining their heads as if to hearken, ranging in multitude almost to
+the sky's verge--stood assembled, it seemed to me, all the horses of
+the universe.
+
+Even in my first sensation of fear admiration irresistibly stirred.
+The superb freedom of their unbridled heads, the sun-nurtured
+arrogance of their eyes, the tumultuous, sea-like tossing of crest and
+tail, their keenness and ardour and might, and also in simple truth
+their numbers--how could one marvel if this solitary fanatic dreamed
+they heard him and understood?
+
+Unarmed, bareheaded, he faced the brutal discontent of his people.
+Words I could not distinguish; but there was little chance of
+misapprehending the haughty anguish with which he threatened, pleaded,
+cajoled. Clear and unfaltering his voice rose and fell. He dealt out
+fearlessly, foolishly, to that long-snouted, little-brained,
+wild-eyed multitude, reason beyond their instinct, persuasion beyond
+their savagery, love beyond their heed.
+
+But even while I listened, one thing I knew those sleek malcontents
+heard too--the Spirit of man in that small voice of his--perplexed,
+perhaps, and perverted, and out of tether; but none the less
+unconquerable and sublime.
+
+What less, thought I, than power unearthly could long maintain that
+stern, impassable barrier of green vacancy between their hoofs and
+him? And I suppose for the very reason that these were beasts of a
+long-sharpened sagacity, wild-hearted, rebellious, yet not the slaves
+of impulse, he yet kept himself their king who was, in fact, their
+captive.
+
+"Houyhnhnms?" I heard him cry; "pah--Yahoos!" His voice fell; he stood
+confronting in silence that vast circumference of restless beauty. And
+again broke out inhuman, inarticulate, immeasurable revolt. Far across
+over the tossing host, rearing, leaping, craning dishevelled heads,
+went pealing and eddying that hostile, brutal voice.
+
+Gulliver lifted his hand, and a tempestuous silence fell once more.
+"Yahoos! Yahoos!" he bawled again. Then he turned, and passed back
+into his hideous garden. The gate was barred and bolted behind him.
+
+Thus loosed and unrestrained, surged as if the wind drove them, that
+concourse upon the stockade. Heavy though its timbers were, they
+seemed to stoop at the impact. A kind of fury rose in me. I lusted to
+go down and face the mutiny of the brutes; bit, and saddle, and
+scourge into obedience man's serfs of the centuries. I watched, on
+fire, the flame of the declining sun upon those sleek, vehement
+creatures of the dust. And then, I know not by what subtle irony, my
+zeal turned back--turned back and faded away into simple longing for
+my lost friend, my peaceful beast-of-evening, Rosinante. I sat down
+again in the litter of my bed and earnestly wished myself home;
+wished, indeed, if I must confess it, for the familiar face of my Aunt
+Sophia, my books, my bed. If these were this land's horses, I thought,
+what men might here be met! The unsavouriness, the solitude, the
+neighing and tumult and prancing induced in me nothing but dulness at
+last and disgust.
+
+But at length, dismissing all such folly, at least from my face, I
+lifted the trap-door and descended the steep ladder into the room
+beneath.
+
+Mr. Gulliver sat where I had left him. Defeat stared from his eyes.
+Lines of insane thought disfigured his face. Yet he sat, stubborn and
+upright, heedless of the uproar, heedless even that the late beams of
+the sun had found him out in his last desolation. So I too sat down
+without speech, and waited till he should come up out of his gloom,
+and find a friend in a stranger.
+
+But day waned; the sunlight went out of the great wooden room; the
+tumult diminished; and finally silence and evening shadow descended on
+the beleaguered house. And I was looking out of the darkened window at
+a star that had risen and stood shining in the sky, when I was
+startled by a voice so low and so different from any I had yet heard
+that I turned to convince myself it was indeed Mr. Gulliver's.
+
+"And the people of the Yahoos, Traveller," he said, "do they still
+lie, and flatter, and bribe, and spill blood, and lust, and covet? Are
+there yet in the country whence you come the breadless bellies, the
+sores and rags and lamentations of the poor? Ay, Yahoo, and do vicious
+men rule, and attain riches; and impious women pomp and
+flattery?--hypocrites, pandars, envious, treacherous, proud?" He
+stared with desolate sorrow and wrath into my eyes.
+
+Words in disorder flocked to my tongue. I grew hot and eager, yet by
+some instinct held my peace. The fluttering of the dying flames, the
+starry darkness, silence itself; what were we who sat together?
+Transient shadows both, phantom, unfathomable, mysterious as these.
+
+I fancied he might speak again. Once he started, raised his arm, and
+cried out as if acting again in dream some frenzy of the past. And
+once he wheeled on me extraordinary eyes, as if he half-recognised
+some idol of the irrevocable in my face. These were momentary,
+however. Gloom returned to his forehead, vacancy to his eyes.
+
+I heard the outer gate flung open, and a light, strange footfall. So
+we seated ourselves, all three, for a while round the smouldering
+fire. Mr. Gulliver's servant scarcely took his eyes from my face. And,
+a little to my confusion, his first astonishment of me had now passed
+away, and in its stead had fallen such a gentleness and humour as I
+should not have supposed possible in his wild countenance. He busied
+himself over his strips of skin, but if he caught my eye upon his own
+he would smile out broadly, and nod his great, hairy head at me, till
+I fancied myself a child again and he some vast sweetheart of my
+nurse.
+
+When we had supped (sitting together in the great room), I climbed the
+ladder into the loft and was soon fast asleep. But from dreams
+distracted with confusion I awoke at the first shafts of dawn. I stood
+beside the narrow window in the wall of the loft and watched the
+distant river change to silver, the bright green of the grass appear.
+
+This seemed a place of few and timorous birds, and of fewer trees. But
+all across the dews of the grasses lay a tinge of powdered gold, as
+if yellow flowers were blooming in abundance there. I saw no horses,
+no sign of life; heard no sound but the cadent wail of the ash-grey
+birds in their flights. And when I turned my eyes nearer home, and
+compared the distant beauty of the forests and their radiant clouds
+with the nakedness and desolation here, I gave up looking from the
+window with a determination to be gone as soon as possible from a
+country so uncongenial.
+
+Moreover, Mr. Gulliver, it appeared, had returned during the night to
+his first mistrust of my company. He made no sign he saw me, and left
+his uncouth servant to attend on me. For him, indeed, I began to feel
+a kind of affection springing up; he seemed so eager to befriend me.
+And whose is the heart quite hardened against a simple admiration? I
+rose very gladly when, after having stuffed a wallet with food, he
+signed to me to follow him. I turned to Mr. Gulliver and held out my
+hand.
+
+"I wish, sir, I might induce you to accompany me," I said. "Some day
+we would win our way back to the country we have abandoned. I have
+known and loved your name, sir, since first I browsed on
+pictures--Being measured for your first coat in Lilliput by the little
+tailors:--Straddling the pinnacled city. Ay, sir, and when the farmers
+picked you up 'twixt finger and thumb from among their cornstalks...."
+
+I had talked on in hope to see his face relax; but he made no sign he
+saw or heard me. I very speedily dropped my hand and went out. But
+when my guide and I had advanced about thirty yards from the stockade,
+I cast a glance over my shoulder towards the house that had given me
+shelter. It rose, sad-coloured and solitary, between the green and
+blue. But, if it was not fancy, Mr. Gulliver stood looking down on me
+from the very window whence I had looked down on him. And there I do
+not doubt he stayed till his fellow-yahoo had passed across his
+inhospitable lands out of his sight for ever.
+
+I was glad to be gone, and did not, at first, realise that the least
+danger lay before us. But soon, observing the extraordinary vigilance
+and caution my companion showed, I began to watch and hearken, too.
+Evidently our departure had not passed unseen. Far away to left and to
+right of us I descried at whiles now a few, now many, swift-moving
+shapes. But whether they were advancing with us, or gathering behind
+us, in hope to catch their tyrant alone and unaware, I could not
+properly distinguish.
+
+Once, for a cause not apparent to me, my guide raised himself to his
+full height, and, thrusting back his head, uttered a most piercing
+cry. After that, however, we saw no more for a while of the beasts
+that haunted our journey.
+
+All morning, till the sun was high, and the air athrob with heat and
+stretched like a great fiddlestring to a continuous, shrill vibration,
+we went steadily forward. And when at last I was faint with heat and
+thirst, my companion lifted me up like a child on to his back and set
+off again at his great, easy stride. It was useless to protest. I
+merely buried my hands in his yellow hair to keep my balance in such a
+camel-like motion.
+
+A little after noon we stayed to rest by a shallow brook, beneath a
+cluster of trees scented, though not in blossom, like an English
+hawthorn. There we ate our meal, or rather I ate and my companion
+watched, running out ever and again for a wider survey, and returning
+to me like a faithful dog, to shout snatches of his inconceivable
+language at me.
+
+Sometimes I seemed to catch his meaning, bidding me take courage, have
+no fear, he would protect me. And once he shaded his eyes and pointed
+afar with extreme perturbation, whining or murmuring while he stared.
+
+Again we set off from beneath the sweet-scented shade, and now no
+doubt remained that I was the object of very hostile evolutions.
+Sometimes these smooth-hooved battalions would advance, cloudlike, to
+within fifty yards of us, and, snorting, ruffle their manes and wheel
+swiftly away; only once more in turn to advance, and stand, with heads
+exalted, gazing wildly on us till we were passed on a little. But my
+guide gave them very little heed. Did they pause a moment too long in
+our path, or gallop down on us but a stretch or two beyond the limit
+his instinct had set for my safety, he whirled his thong above his
+head, and his yell resounded, and like a shadow upon wheat the furious
+companies melted away.
+
+Evidently these were not the foes he looked for, but a subtler, a more
+indomitable. It was at last, I conjectured, at scent, or sight, or
+rumour of these that he suddenly swept me on to his shoulders again,
+and with a great sneeze or bellow leapt off at a speed he had, as yet,
+given me no hint of.
+
+Looking back as best I could, I began to discern somewhat to the left
+of us a numerous herd in pursuit, sorrel in colour, and of a more
+magnificent aspect than those forming the other bands. It was obvious,
+too, despite their plunging and rearing, that they were gaining on
+us--drew, indeed, so near at last that I could count the foremost of
+them, and mark (not quite callously) their power and fleetness and
+symmetry, even the sun's gold upon their reddish skins.
+
+Then in a flash my captor set me down, toppled me over (in plain
+words) into the thick herbage, and, turning, rushed bellowing,
+undeviating towards their leaders, till it seemed he must inevitably
+be borne down beneath their brute weight, and so--farewell to summer.
+But almost at the impact, the baffled creatures reared, neighing
+fearfully in consort, and at the gibberish hurled back on them by
+their flamed-eyed master, broke in rout, and fled.
+
+Whereupon, unpausing, he ran back to me, only just in time to rescue
+me from the nearer thunder yet of those who had seized the very acme
+of their opportunity to beat out my brains.
+
+It was a long and arduous and unequal contest. I wished very heartily
+I could bear a rather less passive part. But this fearless creature
+scarcely heeded me; used me like a helpless child, half tenderly, half
+roughly, displaying ever and again over his shoulder only a fleeting
+glance of the shallow glories of his eyes, as if to reassure me of his
+power and my safety.
+
+But the latter, those distant savannahs will bear witness, seemed
+forlorn enough. My eyes swam with weariness of these crested,
+earth-disdaining battalions. I sickened of the heat of the sun, the
+incessant sidelong jolting, the amazing green. But on we went, fleet
+and stubborn, into ever-thickening danger. How feeble a quarry amid so
+many hunters!
+
+Two things grew clearer to me each instant. First, that every movement
+and feint of our pursuers was of design. Not a beast that wheeled but
+wheeled to purpose; while the main body never swerved, thundered
+superbly on toward the inevitable end. And next I perceived with even
+keener assurance that my guide knew his country and his enemy and his
+own power and aim as perfectly and consummately; knew, too--this was
+the end.
+
+Far distant in front of us there appeared to be a break in the level
+green, a fringe of bushes, rougher ground. For this refuge he was
+making, and from this our mutinous Houyhnhnms meant to keep us.
+
+There was no pausing now, not a glance behind. His every effort was
+bent on speed. Speed indeed it was. The wind roared in my ears. Yet
+above its surge I heard the neighing and squealing, the
+ever-approaching shudder of hoofs. My eyes distorted all they looked
+on. I seemed now floating twenty feet in air; now skimming within
+touch of ground. Now that sorrel squadron behind me swelled and
+nodded; now dwindled to an extreme minuteness of motion.
+
+Then, of a sudden, a last, shrill paean rose high; the hosts of our
+pursuers paused, billow-like, reared, and scattered--my poor Yahoo
+leapt clear.
+
+For an instant once again in this wild journey I was poised, as it
+were, in space, then fell with a crash, still clutched, sure and
+whole, to the broad shoulders of my rescuer.
+
+When my first confusion had passed away, I found that I was lying in a
+dense green glen at the foot of a cliff. For some moments I could
+think of nothing but my extraordinary escape from destruction. Within
+reach of my hand lay the creature who had carried me, huddled and
+motionless; and to left and to right of me, and one a little nearer
+the base of the cliff, five of those sorrel horses that had been
+chief of our pursuers. One only of them was alive, and he, also,
+broken and unable to rise--unable to do else than watch with fierce,
+untamed, glazing eyes (a bloody froth at his muzzle,) every movement
+and sign of life I made.
+
+I myself, though bruised and bleeding, had received no serious injury.
+But my Yahoo would rise no more. His master was left alone amidst his
+people. I stooped over him and bathed his brow and cheeks with the
+water that trickled from the cliffs close at hand. I pushed back the
+thick strands of matted yellow hair from his eyes. He made no sign.
+Even while I watched him the life of the poor beast near at hand
+welled away: he whinnied softly, and dropped his head upon the
+bracken. I was alone in the unbroken silence.
+
+It seemed a graceless thing to leave the carcasses of these brave
+creatures uncovered there. So I stripped off branches of the trees,
+and gathered bundles of fern and bracken, with which to conceal awhile
+their bones from wolf and fowl. And him whom I had begun to love I
+covered last, desiring he might but return, if only for a moment, to
+bid me his strange farewell.
+
+This done, I pushed through the undergrowth from the foot of the sunny
+cliffs, and after wandering in the woods, came late in the afternoon,
+tired out, to a ruinous hut. Here I rested, refreshing myself with the
+unripe berries that grew near by.
+
+I remained quite still in this mouldering hut looking out on the glens
+where fell the sunlight. Some homely bird warbled endlessly on in her
+retreat, lifted her small voice till every hollow resounded with her
+content. Silvery butterflies wavered across the sun's pale beams,
+sipped, and flew in wreaths away. The infinite hordes of the dust
+raised their universal voice till, listening, it seemed to me their
+tiny Babel was after all my own old, far-off English, sweet of the
+husk.
+
+Fate leads a man through danger to his delight. Me she had led among
+woods. Nameless though many of the cups and stars and odours of the
+flowers were to me, unfamiliar the little shapes that gamboled in fur
+and feather before my face, here dwelt, mummy of all earth's summers,
+some old ghost of me, sipper of sap, coucher in moss, quieter than
+dust.
+
+So sitting, so rhapsodising, I began to hear presently another
+sound--the rich, juicy munch-munch of jaws, a little blunted maybe,
+which yet, it seemed, could never cry Enough! to these sweet,
+succulent grasses. I made no sign, waited with eyes towards the sound,
+and pulses beating as if for a sweetheart. And soon, placid,
+unsurprised, at her extreme ease, loomed into sight who but my
+ox-headed Rosinante in these dells, cropping her delightful way along
+in search of her drowned master.
+
+I could but whistle and receive the slow, soft scrutiny of her
+familiar eyes. I fancied even her bland face smiled, as might
+elderliness on youth. She climbed near with bridle broken and
+trailing, thrust out her nose to me, and so was mine again.
+
+Sunlight left the woods. Wind passed through the upper branches. So,
+with rain in the air, I went forward once more; not quite so headily,
+perhaps, yet, I hope, with undiminished courage, like all earth's
+travellers before me, who have deemed truth potent as modesty, and
+themselves worth scanning print after.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+    _A ... shop of rarities._
+
+    --GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+A little before darkness fell we struck into a narrow road traversing
+the wood. This, though apparently not much frequented, would at least
+lead me into lands inhabited, so turning my face to the West, that I
+might have light to survey as long as any gleamed in the sky, I
+trudged on. But I went slow enough: Rosinante was lame; I like a
+stranger to my body, it was so bruised and tumbled.
+
+The night was black, and a thin rain falling when at last I emerged
+from the interminable maze of lanes into which the wood-road had led
+me. And glad I was to descry what seemed by the many lights shining
+from its windows to be a populous village. A gay village also, for
+song came wafted on the night air, rustic and convivial.
+
+Hereabouts I overtook a figure on foot, who, when I addressed him,
+turned on me as sharply as if he supposed the elms above him were
+thick with robbers, or that mine was a voice out of the unearthly
+hailing him.
+
+I asked him the name of the village we were approaching. With small
+dark eyes searching my face in the black shadow of night, he answered
+in a voice so strange and guttural that I failed to understand a word.
+He shook his fingers in the air; pointed with the cudgel he carried
+under his arm now to the gloom behind us, now to the homely galaxy
+before us, and gabbled on so fast and so earnestly that I began to
+suppose he was a little crazed.
+
+One word, however, I caught at last from all this jargon, and that
+often repeated with a little bow to me, and an uneasy smile on his
+white face--"Mishrush, Mishrush!" But whether by this he meant to
+convey to me his habitual mood, or his own name, I did not learn till
+afterwards. I stopped in the heavy road and raised my hand.
+
+"An inn," I cried in his ear, "I want lodging, supper--a tavern, an
+inn!" as if addressing a child or a natural.
+
+He began gesticulating again, evidently vain of having fully
+understood me. Indeed, he twisted his little head upon his shoulders
+to observe Rosinante gauntly labouring on. "'Ame!--'ame!" he cried
+with a great effort.
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Ah!" he cried piteously.
+
+He led me, after a few minutes' journey, into the cobbled yard of a
+bright-painted inn, on whose signboard a rising sun glimmered faintly
+gold, and these letters standing close above it--"The World's End."
+
+Mr. "Mishrush" seemed not a little relieved at nearing company after
+his lonely walk; triumphant, too, at having guided me hither so
+cunningly. He lifted his nimble cudgel in the air and waved it
+conceitedly to and fro in time to the song that rose beyond the
+window. "Fau'ow er Wur'!--Fau'ow er Wur'!" he cried delightedly again
+and again in my ear, eager apparently for my approval. So we stood,
+then, beneath the starless sky, listening to the rich _choragium_ of
+the "World's End." They sang in unison, sang with a kind of forlorn
+heat and enthusiasm. And when the song was ended, and the roar of
+applause over, Night, like a darkened water whelmed silently in,
+engulfed it to the echo:
+
+    Follow the World--
+      She bursts the grape,
+    And dandles man
+      In her green lap;
+    She moulds her Creature
+      From the clay,
+    And crumbles him
+      To dust away:
+        Follow the World!
+
+    One Draught, one Feast,
+      One Wench, one Tomb;
+    And thou must straight
+      To ashes come:
+    Drink, eat, and sleep;
+      Why fret and pine?
+    Death can but snatch
+      What ne'er was thine:
+        Follow the World!
+
+It died away, I say, and an ostler softly appeared out of the shadow.
+Into his charge, then, I surrendered Rosinante, and followed my
+inarticulate acquaintance into the noise and heat and lustre of the
+Inn.
+
+It was a numerous company there assembled. But their voices fell to a
+man on the entry of a stranger. They scrutinised me, not uncivilly,
+but closely, seeking my badge, as it were by which to recognise and
+judge me ever after.
+
+Mr. Mistrust, as I presently discovered my guide's name indeed to be,
+was volubly explaining how I came into his company. They listened
+intently to what, so far as I could gather, might be Houyhnhnmish or
+Double-Dutch. And then, as if to show me to my place forthwith, a
+great fleshy fellow that sat close beside the hearth this summer
+evening continued in a loud voice the conversation I had interrupted.
+
+Whereupon Mr. Mistrust with no little confidence commended me in dumb
+show to the landlady of the Inn, a Mrs. Nature, if I understood him
+aright. This person was still comely, though of uncertain age, wore
+cherry ribbons, smiled rather vacantly from vague, wonderful,
+indescribable eyes that seemed to change colour, like the chameleon,
+according to that they dwelt on.
+
+I am afraid, as much to my amusement as wonder, I discovered that this
+landlady of so much apparent _bonhomie_ was a deaf-mute. If victuals,
+or drink, or bed were required, one must chalk it down on a little
+slate she carried at her girdle for the purpose. Indeed, the absence
+of two of her three chief senses had marvellously sharpened the
+remaining one. Her eyes were on all, vaguely dwelling, lightly gone,
+inscrutable, strangely fascinating. She moved easily and soundlessly
+(as fat women may), and I doubt if ever mug or pot of any of that
+talkative throng remained long empty, except at the tippler's
+reiterated request.
+
+She laid before me an excellent supper on a little table somewhat
+removed beside a curtained window. And while I ate I watched, and
+listened, not at all displeased with my entertainment.
+
+The room in which we sat was low-ceiled and cheerful, but rather
+close after the rainy night-air. Gay pictures beautified the walls.
+Here a bottle, a cheese, grapes, a hare, a goblet--in a clear brown
+light that made the guest's mouth water to admire. Here a fine
+gentleman toasting a simpering chambermaid. Above the chimney-piece a
+bloated old man in vineleaves that might be Silenus. And over against
+the door of the parlour what I took to be a picture of Potiphar's wife,
+she looked out of the paint so bold and beauteous and craftily. Birds
+and fishes in cases stared glassily,--owl and kestrel, jack and eel
+and gudgeon. All was clean and comfortable as a hospitable inn can be.
+
+But they who frequented it interested me much more--as various and
+animated a gathering as any I have seen. Yet in some peculiar manner
+they seemed one and all not to the last tittle quite of this world.
+They were, so to speak, more earthy, too definite, too true to the
+mould, like figures in a bleak, bright light viewed out of darkness.
+Certainly not one of them was at first blush prepossessing. Yet who
+finds much amiss with the fox at last, though all he seems to have be
+cunning?
+
+Near beside me, however, sat retired a man a little younger and more
+at his ease than most of the many there, and as busy with his eyes and
+ears as I. His name, I learned presently, was Reverie; and from him I
+gathered not a little information regarding the persons who talked and
+sipped around us.
+
+He told me at whiles that his house was not in the village, but in a
+valley some few miles distant across the meadows; that he sat out
+these bouts of argument and slander for the sheer delight he had in
+gathering the myriad strands of that strange rope Opinion; that he
+lived (heart, soul, and hope) well-nigh alone; that he deeply
+mistrusted this place, and the company we were in, yet not for its
+mistress's sake, who was at least faithful to her instincts, candid to
+the candid, made no favourites, and, eventually, compelled order. He
+told me also that if friends he had, he deemed it wiser not to name
+them, since the least sibilant of the sound of the voice incites to
+treachery; and in conclusion, that of all men he was acquainted with,
+one at least never failed to right his humour; and that one was yonder
+flabby, pallid fellow with the velvet collar to his coat, and the
+rings on his fingers, and the gold hair, named Pliable, who sat beside
+Mr. Stubborn on the settle by the fire.
+
+When, then, I had finished my supper, I drew in my chair a little
+closer to Mr. Reverie's and, having scribbled my wants on the
+Landlady's slate, turned my attention to the talk.
+
+At the moment when I first began to listen attentively they seemed to
+be in heated dispute concerning the personal property of a certain Mr.
+Christian, who was either dead or had inexplicably disappeared. Mr.
+Obstinate, I gathered, had taken as his right this Christian's
+"easy-chair"; a gentleman named Smoothman most of his other goods for
+a debt; while a Parson Decorum had appropriated as heretical his
+books and various peculiar MSS.
+
+But there now remained in question a trifling sum of money which a Mr.
+Liar loudly demanded in payment of an "affair of honour." This,
+however, he seemed little likely to obtain, seeing that an elderly
+uncle by marriage of Christian's, whose name was Office, was as eager
+and affable and frank about the sum as he was bent on keeping it; and
+rattled the contents of his breeches' pocket in sheer bravado of his
+means to go to law for it.
+
+"He left a bare pittance, the merest pittance," he said. "What could
+there be of any account? Christian despised money, professed to
+despise it. That alone would prove my wretched nephew queer in the
+head--despised _money_!
+
+"Tush, friend!" cried Obstinate from his corner. "Whether the money is
+yours, or neighbour Liar's--and it is as likely as not neither's--that
+talk about despising money's what but a silly lie? 'Twas all sour
+grapes--sour grapes. He had cunning enough for envy, and pride enough
+for shame; and at last there was naught but cunning left wherewith to
+patch up a clout for him and his shame to be gone in. I watched him
+set out on his pestilent pilgrimage, crazed and stubborn, and not a
+groat to call his own."
+
+"Yet I have heard say he came of a moneyed stock," said Pliable. "The
+Sects of Privy Opinion were rare wealthy people, and they, so 'tis
+said, were his kinsmen. Truth is, for aught I know, Christian must
+have been in some degree a very liberal rascal, with all his faults."
+He tittered.
+
+"Oh! he was liberal enough," said Mr. Malice suavely: "why, even on
+setting out, he emptied his wife's purse into a blind beggar's
+hat!--his that used to bleat, 'Cast thy bread--cast thy bread upon the
+waters!' whensoever he spied Christian stepping along the street. They
+say," he added, burying his clever face in his mug, "the Heavenly
+Jerusalem lieth down by the weir."
+
+"But we must not contemn a man for his poverty, neighbours," said
+Liar, gravely composing his hairless face. "Christian's was a
+character of beautiful simplicity--beautiful! _How_ many rickety
+children did he leave behind him?"
+
+A shrill voice called somewhat I could not quite distinguish, for at
+that moment a youth rose abruptly near by, and went hastily out.
+
+Obstinate stared roundly. "Thou hast a piercing voice, friend Liar!"
+
+"I did but seek the truth," said Liar.
+
+"But whether or no, Christian believed in it--verily he seemed to
+believe in it. Was it not so, neighbour Obstinate?" enquired Pliable,
+stroking his leg.
+
+"Believed in what, my friend?" said Obstinate, in a dull voice.
+
+"About Mount Zion, and the Crowns of Glory, and the Harps of Gold, and
+such like," said Pliable uneasily--"at least, it is said so; so 'tis said."
+
+"Believed!" retorted a smooth young man who seemed to feel the heat,
+and sat by the staircase door. "That's an easy task--to believe, sir.
+Ask any pretty minikin!"
+
+"And I'd make bold to enquire of yonder Liveloose," said a thick,
+monotonous voice (a Mr. Dull's, so Reverie informed me), "if mebbe he
+be referring to one of his own, or that fellow Sloth's devilish fairy
+tales? I know one yet he'll eat again some day."
+
+At which remark all laughed consumedly, save Dull.
+
+"Well, one thing Christian had, and none can deny it," said Pliable, a
+little hotly, "and that was Imagination? _I_ shan't forget the tales
+he was wont to tell: what say you, Superstition?"
+
+Mr. Superstition lifted dark, rather vacant eyes on Pliable. "Yes,
+yes," he said: "Flame, and sigh, and lamentation. My God, my God,
+gentlemen!"
+
+"Oo-ay, Oo-ay," yelped the voice of Mistrust, startled out of silence.
+
+"Oo-ay," whistled Malice, under his breath.
+
+"Tush, tush!" broke in Obstinate again, and snapped his fingers in the
+air. "And what is this precious Imagination? Whither doth it conduct a
+man, but to beggary, infamy, and the mad-house? Look ye to it, friend
+Pliable! 'Tis a devouring flame; give it but wind and leisure, the
+fairest house is ashes."
+
+"Ashes; ashes!" mocked one called Cruelty, who had more than once
+taken my attention with his peculiar contortions--"talking of ashes,
+what of Love-the-log Faithful, Master Tongue-stump? What of
+Love-the-log Faithful?"
+
+At which Liveloose was so extremely amused, the tears stood in his
+eyes for laughing.
+
+I looked round for Mistrust, and easily recognised my friend by his
+hare-like face, and the rage in his little active eyes. But
+unfortunately, as I turned to enquire somewhat of Reverie, Liveloose
+suddenly paused in his merriment with open mouth; and the whole
+company heard my question, "But who was Love-the-log Faithful?"
+
+I was at once again the centre of attention, and Mr. Obstinate rose
+very laboriously from his settle and held out a great hand to me.
+
+"I'm pleased to meet thee," he said, with a heavy bow. "There's a dear
+heart with my good neighbour Superstition yonder who will present a
+very fair account of that misguided young man. Madam Wanton, here's a
+young gentleman that never heard tell of our old friend Love-the-log."
+
+A shrill peal of laughter greeted this sally.
+
+"Why, Faithful was a young gentleman, sir," explained the woman
+civilly enough, "who preferred his supper hot."
+
+"Oh, Madam Wanton, my dear, my dear!" cried a long-nosed woman nearly
+helpless with amusement.
+
+I saw Superstition gazing darkly at me. He shook his head as I was
+about to reply, so I changed my retort. "Who, then, was Mr.
+Christian?" I enquired simply.
+
+At that the house shook with the roar of laughter that went up.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+    ... _Large draughts of intellectual day._
+
+    --RICHARD CRASHAW.
+
+
+"Believe me, neighbours," said Malice softly, when this uproar was a
+little abated, "there is nought so strange in the question. It meaneth
+only that this young gentleman hath not enjoyed the pleasure of your
+company before. Will it amaze you to learn, my friends, that Christian
+is like to be immortal only because you _talk_ him out of the grave?
+One brief epitaph, gentlemen, would let him rot."
+
+"Nay, but I'll tell the gentleman who Christian was, and with
+pleasure," cried a lucid, rather sallow little man that had sat
+quietly smiling and listening. "My name, let me tell you, is Atheist,
+sir; and Christian was formerly a very near neighbour of an old friend
+of my family's--Mr. Sceptic. They lived, sir--at least in those
+days--opposite to one another."
+
+"He is a great talker," whispered Reverie in my ear. But the company
+evidently found his talk to their taste. They sat as still and
+attentive around him, as though before an extemporary preacher.
+
+"Well, sir," continued Atheist, "being, in a sense, neighbours,
+Christian in his youth would often confide in my friend; though,
+assuredly, Sceptic never sought his confidences. And it seemeth he
+began to be perturbed and troubled over the discovery that it is
+impossible--at least in this plain world--to eat your cake, yet have
+it. And by some ill chance he happened at this time on a mouldy old
+folio in my friend's house that had been the property of his maternal
+grandmother--the subtlest old tome you ever set eyes on, though
+somewhat too dark and extravagant and heady for a sober man of the
+world like me. 'Twas called the Bible, sir--a collection of legends
+and fables of all times, tongues, and countries threaded together,
+mighty ingeniously I grant, and in as plausible a style as any I
+know, if a little lax and flowery in parts.
+
+"Well, Christian borroweth the book of my friend--never to return it.
+And being feeble and credulous, partly by reason of his simple wits,
+and partly by reason of the sad condition a froward youth had reduced
+him to, he accepts the whole book--from Apple to Vials--for truth. In
+fact, 'he ate the little book,' as one of the legendary kings it
+celebrates had done before him."
+
+"Ay," broke in Cruelty wildly, "and has ever since gotten the gripes."
+
+Atheist inclined his head. "Putting it coarsely, gentlemen, such was
+the case," he said. "And away at his wit's end he hasteneth, waning
+and shivering, to a great bog or quagmire--that my friend Pliable will
+answer to--and plungeth in. 'Tis the same story repeated. He could be
+temperate in nought. _I_ knew the bog well; but I knew the
+stepping-stones better. Believe me, I have traversed the narrow way
+this same Christian took, seeking the harps and pearls and the _elixir
+vitae_, these many years past. The book inciteth ye to it. It sets a
+man's heart on fire--that's weak enough to read it--with its pomp, and
+rhetoric, and far-away promises, and lofty counsels. Oh, fine words,
+who is not their puppet! I climbed 'Difficulty.' I snapped my fingers
+at the grinning Lions. I passed cautiously through the 'Valley of the
+Shadow'--wild scenery, sir! I visited that prince of bubbles also,
+Giant Despair, in his draughty castle. And--though boasting be far
+from me!--fetched Liveloose's half-brother out of a certain
+charnel-house near by.
+
+"_Thus far_, sir, I went. But I have not yet found the world so barren
+of literature as to write a book about it. I have not yet found the
+world so barren of ingratitude as to seek happiness by stabbing in the
+back every friend I ever had. I have not yet forsaken wife and
+children; neighbours and kinsmen; home, ease, and tenderness, for a
+whim, a dream, a passing qualm. No, sir; 'tis this Christian's
+ignorant hardness-of-heart that is his bane. Knowing little, he
+prateth much. He would pinch and contract the Universe to his own
+fantastical pattern. He is tedious, he is pragmatical, and--I affirm
+it in all sympathy and sorrow--he is crazed. Malice, haply, is a
+little sharp at times. And neighbour Obstinate dealeth full weight
+with his opinions. But this Christian Flown-to-Glory, as the urchins
+say, pinks with a bludgeon. He cannot endure an honest doubt. He
+distorteth a mere difference of opinion into a roaring Tophet. And
+because he is helpless, solitary, despised in the world; because he is
+impotent to refute, and too stubborn to hear and suffer people a
+little higher and weightier, a leetle wiser than he--why, beyond the
+grave he must set his hope in vengeance. Beyond the grave--bliss for
+his own shade; fire and brimstone, eternal woe for theirs. Ay, and
+'tis not but for a season will he vex us, but for ever, and for ever,
+and for ever--if he knoweth in the least what he meaneth by the
+phrase. And this he calls 'Charity.'
+
+"Yes, sirs, beyond the grave he would condemn us, beyond the grave--a
+place of peace whereto I deem there are not many here but will be
+content at length to come; and I not least content, when my duty is
+done, my children provided for, and my last suspicion of fear and
+folly suppressed.
+
+"To conclude, sir--and beshrew me, gentlemen, how time doth fly in
+talk!--this Christian goeth his way. We, each in accord with his
+caprice and conscience, go ours. We envy him not his vapours, his
+terrors, or his shameless greed of reward. Why, then, doth he envy us
+our wealth, our success, our gaiety, our content? He raves. He is
+haunted. What is man but as grass, and the flower of grass? Come the
+sickle, he is clean gone. I can but repeat it, sir, our poor neighbour
+was crazed: 'tis Christian in a word."
+
+A sigh, a murmur of satisfaction and relief, rose from the company, as
+if one and all had escaped by Mr. Atheist's lucidity out of a very
+real peril.
+
+I thanked him for his courtesy, and in some confusion turned to
+Reverie with the remark that I thought I now recollected to have heard
+Christian's name, but understood he had indeed arrived, at last, at
+the Celestial City for which he had set out.
+
+"Celestial twaddle, sir!" cried Mr. Obstinate hoarsely. "He went
+stark, staring mad, and now is dust, as we shall soon all be, that's
+certain."
+
+Then Cruelty rose out of his chair and elbowed his way to the door. He
+opened it and looked out.
+
+"I would," he said, "I had known of this Christian before he started.
+Step you down to Vanity Fair, Sir Stranger, if the mood take you; and
+we'll show you as pretty a persuasion against pilgrimage as ever you
+saw." He opened his mouth where he stood between me and the stars.
+"... There's many more!" he added with difficulty, as if his rage was
+too much for him. He spat into the air and went out.
+
+Presently after Liveloose rose up, smiling softly, and groped after
+him.
+
+A little silence followed their departure.
+
+"You must tell your friend, Mr. Reverie," said Atheist
+good-humouredly, "that Mr. Cruelty says more than he means. To my mind
+he is mistaken--too energetic; but his intentions are good."
+
+"He's a staunch, dependable fellow," said Obstinate, patting down the
+wide cuffs he wore.
+
+But even at that moment a stranger softly entered the inn out of the
+night. His face was of the grey of ashes, and he looked once round on
+us all with a still, appalling glance that silenced the words on my
+lips.
+
+We sat without speech--Obstinate yawning, Atheist smiling lightly,
+Superstition nibbling his nails, Reverie with chin drawn a little
+back, Pliable bolt upright, like a green and white wand, Mistrust
+blinking his little thin lids; but all with eyes fixed on this
+stranger, who deemed himself, it seemed, among friends.
+
+He turned his back on us and sipped his drink under the heedless,
+deep, untroubled gaze of Mrs. Nature, and passed out softly and
+harmlessly as he had come in.
+
+Reverie stood up like a man surprised and ill at ease. He turned to
+me. "I know him only by repute, by hearsay," he said with an effort.
+"He is a stranger to us all, indeed, sir--to all."
+
+Obstinate, with a very flushed face, thrust his hand into his
+breeches' pocket. "Nay, sir," he said, "my purse is yet here. What
+more would you have?"
+
+At which Pliable laughed, turning to the women.
+
+I put on my hat and followed Reverie to the door.
+
+"Excuse me, sir," I said, "but I have no desire to stay in this house
+over-night. And if you would kindly direct me to the nearest way out
+of the village, I will have my horse saddled now and be off."
+
+And then I noticed that Superstition stood in the light of the doorway
+looking down on us.
+
+"There's Christian's way," he said, as if involuntarily....
+
+"Lodge with me to-night," Reverie answered, "and in the morning you
+shall choose which way to go you will."
+
+I thanked him heartily and turned in to find Rosinante.
+
+The night was now fine, but moist and sultry, and misty in the
+distance. It was late, too, for few candles gleamed beneath the
+moonlight from the windows round about the smooth village-green. Even
+as we set out, I leading Rosinante by her bridle, and Superstition on
+my left hand, out of heavenly Leo a bright star wheeled, fading as it
+fell. And soon high hedges hid utterly the "World's End" behind us,
+out of sight and sound.
+
+I observed when the trees had laid their burdened branches overhead,
+and the thick-flowered bushes begun to straiten our way, that this Mr.
+Superstition who had desired to accompany us was of a very different
+courage from that his manner at the inn seemed to profess.
+
+He walked with almost as much caution and ungainliness as Mistrust,
+his deep and shining eyes busily searching the gloom to left and right
+of him. Indeed, those same dark eyes of his reminded me not a little
+of Mrs. Nature's, they were so full of what they could not tell.
+
+He was on foot; my new friend Reverie, like myself, led his horse, a
+pale, lovely creature with delicate nostrils and deep-smouldering
+eyes.
+
+"You must think me very bold to force my company on you," said
+Superstition awkwardly, turning to Reverie, "but my house is never so
+mute with horror as in these moody summer nights when thunder is in
+the air. See there!" he cried.
+
+As if the distant sky had opened, the large, bright, harmless
+lightning quivered and was gone, revealing on the opposing hills
+forest above forest unutterably dark and still.
+
+"Surely," I said, "that is not the way Christian took?"
+
+"They say," Reverie answered, "the Valley of the Shadow of Death lies
+between those hills."
+
+"But Atheist," I said, "_that_ acid little man, did he indeed walk
+there alone?"
+
+"I have heard," muttered Superstition, putting out his hand, "'tis
+fear only that maketh afraid. Atheist has no fear."
+
+"But what of Cruelty," I said, "and Liveloose?"
+
+"Why," answered Superstition, "Cruelty works cunningest when he is
+afraid; and Liveloose never talks about himself. None the less there's
+not a tree but casts a shadow. I met once an earnest yet very popular
+young gentleman of the name of Science, who explained almost
+everything on earth to me so clearly, and patiently, and fatherly, I
+thought I should evermore sleep in peace. But we met at noon. Believe
+me, sir, I would have followed Christian and his friend Hopeful very
+willingly long since; for as for Cruelty and Obstinate and all that
+clumsy rabble, I heed them not. Indeed my cousin Mistrust _did_ go,
+and as you see returned with a caution; and a poor young school-fellow
+of mine, Jack Ignorance, came to an awful end. But it is because I owe
+partly to Christian and not all to myself this horrible solitude in
+which I walk that I dare not risk a deeper. It would be, I feel sure.
+And so I very willingly beheld Faithful burned; it restored my
+confidence. And here, sir," he added, almost with gaiety, "lives my
+friend Mrs. Simple, a widow. She enjoys my company and my old fables,
+and we keep the blinds down against these mountains, and candles
+burning against the brighter lightnings."
+
+So saying, Superstition bade us good-night and passed down a little
+by-lane on our left towards a country cottage, like a dreaming bower
+of roses beneath the moon.
+
+But Reverie and I continued on as if the moon herself as patiently
+pursued us. And by-and-by we came to a house called Gloom, whose
+gardens slope down with plashing fountains and glimmering banks of
+flowers into the shadow and stillness of a broad valley, named beneath
+the hills of Silence, Peace.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+    _His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
+    And be among her cloudy trophies hung._
+
+    --JOHN KEATS.
+
+
+Even as we entered the gates of Mr. Reverie's house beneath embowering
+chestnuts, there advanced across the moonlit spaces to meet us a
+figure on foot like ourselves, leading his horse. He was in armour,
+yet unarmed. His steel glittered cold and blue; his fingers hung
+ungauntleted; and on his pale face dwelt a look never happy warrior
+wore yet. He seemed a man Mars lends to Venus out of war to unhappy
+idleness. The disillusionment of age was in his face: yet he was
+youthful, I suppose; scarce older than Mercutio, and once, perhaps, as
+light of wit.
+
+He took my hand in a grasp cold and listless, and smiled from
+mirthless eyes.
+
+Yet there was something strangely taking in this solitary
+knight-at-arms. She for whom he does not fight, I thought, must have
+somewhat of the immortals to grace her warrior with. And if it were
+only shadows that beset him and obscured his finer heart, shadows they
+were of myrtle and rhododendron, with voices shrill and small as the
+sparrows', and eyes of the next-to-morning stars.
+
+Indeed, these gardens whispered, and the wind at play in the air
+seemed to bear far-away music, dying and falling.
+
+We entered the house and sat down to supper in a low room open to the
+night. Reverie recounted our evening's talk. "I wish," he said,
+turning to his friend, "you would accompany Mr. Brocken and me one
+night to the 'World's End' to hear these fellows talk. Such arrogance,
+such assurance, such bigotry and blindness and foxiness!--yet, on my
+word, a kind of gravity with it all, as if the scarecrows had some
+real interest in the devil's tares they guard. Come now, let it be a
+bargain between us, and leave this endless search awhile."
+
+But the solitary knight shook his head. "They would jeer me out of
+knowledge," he said. "Why, Reverie, the children cease their play
+when I pass, and draw their tops and marbles out of the dust, and gaze
+till I am hid from sight."
+
+"It is fancy, only fancy," replied Reverie; "children stare at all
+things new to them in the world. How else could they recognise and
+learn again--how else forget? But as for this rabble's mockery, there
+is a she-bear left called Oblivion which is their mistress, and will
+some day silence every jeer."
+
+The solitary knight shook his head again, eyeing me solemnly as if in
+hope to discern in my face the sorcery that held himself in thrall.
+
+The few wax tapers gave but light enough to find the way from goblet
+to mouth. As for Reverie's wine, I ask no other, for it had the
+poppy's scarlet, and overcame weariness so subtly I almost forgot
+these were the hours of sleep we spent in waking; forgot, too, as if
+of the lotus, all thought of effort and hope.
+
+After all, thought I as I sipped, effort is the flaw that proves men
+mortal; while as for hope, who would seek a seed that floats on every
+wind and smothers the world with weeds that bear no fruit? It was, in
+fact, fare very different from the ale and cheese of the "World's End."
+
+"But you yourself," I said to Mr. Reverie presently; "in all the talk
+at the inn you kept a very scrupulous silence--discreet enough, I own.
+But now, what truly _was_ this Christian of whom we heard so much? and
+why, may I ask, do his neighbours slander the dead? You yourselves,
+did you ever meet with him?" I turned from one to the other of my
+companions as they glanced uneasily each at each.
+
+"Well, sir," said Reverie rather deliberately, "I have met him and
+talked with him. I often think of him, in spite of myself. Yet he was
+a man of little charm. He certainly had a remarkable gift for
+estranging his friends. He was a foe to the most innocent compromise.
+For myself, I found not much humour in him, no eye for grace or art,
+and a limited imagination that was yet his absolute master.
+Nevertheless, as you hint, these fellows, no more than I, can forget
+him. Nor you?" He turned to the other.
+
+"Christian," he replied, "I remember him. We were friends a little
+while. Faithful I knew also. Faithful was to the last my friend. Ah!
+Reverie, then--how many years ago!--there was a child we loved, all
+three: do you remember? I see the low, green wall, cool from how many
+a summer's shadows, the clusters of green apples on the bough. And in
+the early morning we would go, carrying torn-off branches, and
+shouting our songs through the fields, till we came to the shadow and
+the hush of the woods. Ay, Reverie, and we would burst in on silence,
+each his heart beating, and play there. And perhaps it was Hopeful who
+would steal away from us, and the others play on; or perhaps you into
+the sunlight that maddened the sheltered bird to flit and sing in the
+orchard where the little child we loved played--not yet sad, but how
+much beloved; not yet weary of passing shadows, and simple creatures,
+and boy's rough gifts and cold hands. But I--with me it was ever
+evening, when the blackbird bursts harshly away. Then it was so still
+in the orchard, and in the curved bough so solitary, that the
+nightingale, cowering, would almost for fear begin to sing, and stoop
+to the bending of the bough, her sidelong eyes in shade; while the
+stars began to stand in the stations above us, ever bright, and all
+the night was peace. Then would I dream on--dream of the face I loved,
+Innocence, O Innocence!"
+
+It was a strange outburst. His voice rose almost to a chant, full of a
+forlorn music. But even as he ceased, we heard in the following
+silence, above the plashing of the restless fountains, beyond, far and
+faint, a wild and stranger music welling. And I saw from the porch
+that looks out from the house called Gloom, "La belle Dame sans Merci"
+pass riding with her train, who rides in beauty beneath the huntress,
+heedless of disguise. Across from far away, like leaves of autumn,
+skirred the dappled deer. The music grew, timbrel and pipe and tabor,
+as beneath the glances of the moon the little company sped, transient
+as a rainbow, elusive as a dream. I saw her maidens bound and
+sandalled, with all their everlasting flowers; and advancing
+soundless, unreal, the silver wheels of that unearthly chariot amid
+the Fauns. On, on they gamboled, hoof in yielding turf, blowing reed
+melodies, mocking water, their lips laid sidelong, their eyes aleer
+along the smoothness of their flutes.
+
+And when I turned again to my companions, with I know not what old
+folly in my eyes, I know not what unanswerable cry in my heart,
+Reverie alone was at my side. I seemed to see the long fringes of the
+lake, the sedge withered, the grey waters restless in the bonds of the
+wind, tuneless and chill; all these happy gardens swept bare and
+flowerless; and the far hills silent in the unattainable dawn.
+
+"She pipes, he follows," said Reverie; "she sets the tune, he dances.
+Yet, sir, on my soul, I believe it is the childish face of that same
+Innocence we kept tryst with long ago he pursues on and on, through
+what sad labyrinths we, who dream not so wildly, cannot by taking
+thought come to guess."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next two days passed serenely and quietly at Reverie's. We read
+together, rode, walked, and talked together, and listened in the
+evening to music. For a sister of Reverie's lived not far distant, who
+visited him while I was there, and took supper with us, delighting us
+with her wit and spirit and her youthful voice.
+
+But though Reverie more than once suggested it, I could not bring
+myself to return to the "World's End" and its garrulous company.
+Whether it was the moist, grey face of Mr. Cruelty I most abhorred, or
+Stubborn's slug-like eye, or the tongue-stump of my afflicted guide, I
+cannot say.
+
+Moreover, I had begun to feel a very keen curiosity to see the way
+that had lured Christian on with such graceless obstinacy. They had
+spoken of remorse, poverty, pride, world-failure, even insanity, even
+vice: but these appeared to me only such things as might fret a man to
+set violently out on, not to persist in such a course; or likelier
+yet, to abandon hope, to turn back from heights that trouble or
+confusion set so far, and made seem dreams.
+
+How could I help, too, being amused to think how vastly strange these
+fellows considered a man's venturing whither his star beckoned; though
+that star were only power, only fame, only beauty, only peace? What
+wonder they were many?
+
+Not far from this place, Reverie informed me, were pitched the booths
+of Vanity Fair. This, by his account, was a place one ought to visit,
+if only for the satisfaction of leaving it behind. But I have heard
+more animated accounts of it elsewhere.
+
+As for Reverie himself, he seemed only desirous to contemplate; never
+to taste, to win, or to handle. He needed but refuse reality to what
+shocked or teased him, to find it harmless and entertaining. He was a
+dreamer whom the heat and shout of battle could not offend.
+
+Perhaps he perceived my restlessness to be gone, for he himself
+suggested that I should stay till the next morning, and then, if I so
+pleased, he would see me a mile or two on my way.
+
+"For the Pitiless Lady," he said, smiling, "takes many disguises,
+sometimes of the sun, sometimes of evening, sometimes of night; and I
+would at least save you from the fate that has made my poor friend a
+phantom before he is a shade."
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+    _The many men, so beautiful!
+    And they all dead did lie._
+
+    --S.T. Coleridge.
+
+
+So Reverie, as he had promised, rode out with me a few miles to see me
+on my way. Above the gloom and stillness of the valley the scene began
+to change again. I was glad as I could be to view once more the
+tossing cornfields and the wind at play with shadow. Near and far,
+woods and pastures smoked beneath the sun. I know not through how many
+arches of the elms and green folds of the meadows I kept watch on the
+chimneys of a farmhouse above its trees.
+
+But Reverie, the further we journeyed, the less he said. I almost
+chafed to see his heedless eyes turned upon some inward dream, while
+here, like life itself, stood cloud and oak, warbled bird and brook
+beneath the burning sun. I saw again in memory the silver twilight of
+the moon, and the crazy face of Love's Warrior, haunter of shade. Let
+him but venture into the open, I thought, hear again the distant
+lowing of the oxen, the rooks cawing in the elms, see again the flocks
+upon the hillside!
+
+I suppose this was her home my heart had turned to. This was my dust;
+night's was his. For me the wild rose and the fields of harvest; for
+him closed petals, the chantry of the night wind, phantom lutes and
+voices. And, as if he had overheard my thoughts, Reverie turned at the
+cross-ways.
+
+"You will come back again," he said. "They tell me in distant lands
+men worship Time, set up a shrine to him in every street, and treasure
+his emblem next their hearts. There, they say, even the lover babbles
+of hours, and the dreamer measures sleep with a pendulum. Well, my
+house is secluded, and the world is far; and to me Time is naught.
+Return, sir, then, when it pleases you. Besides," he added, smiling
+faintly, "there is always company at the World's End."
+
+The crisp sunbeams rained upon his pale and delicate horse, its
+equal-plaited mane, on the darkness of his cloak, that dream-delighted
+face. Here smouldered gold, here flushed crimson, and here the curved
+damaskening of his bridle glistened and gleamed. He was a strange
+visitant to the open day, between the green hedges, beneath the
+enormous branching of the elms. And there I bade him farewell.
+
+Some day, perhaps, I shall return as he has foretold, for it is ever
+easy to find again the house of Reverie--to them who have learned the
+way.
+
+On I journeyed, then, following as I had been directed the main road
+to Vanity Fair. But whether it is that the Fair is more difficult to
+arrive at than to depart from, or is really a hard day's journey even
+from the gay parlour of the World's End, it already began to be
+evening, and yet no sign of bunting or booth or clamour or smoke.
+
+And it was at length to a noiseless Fair, far from all vanity, that I
+came at sunset--the cypresses of a solitary graveyard. I was tired out
+and desired only rest; so dismounting and leading Rosinante, I turned
+aside willingly into its peace.
+
+It seemed I had entered a new earth. The lane above had wandered on in
+the gloaming of its hedges and over-arching trees. Here, all the
+clouds of sunset stood, caught up in burning gold. Even as I paused,
+dazzled a moment by the sudden radiance, from height to height the
+wild bright rose of evening ran. Not a tottering stone, black,
+well-nigh shapeless with age, not a green bush, but seemed to dwell
+unconsumed in its own fire above this desolate ground. The trees that
+grew around me--willow and yew, thorn and poplar--were but flaming
+cages for the wild birds that perched in their branches.
+
+Above these sound-dulled mansions trod lightly, as if of thought,
+Rosinante's gilded shoes. I wandered on in a strange elation of mind,
+filled with a desperate desire ever to remember how flamed this rose
+between earth and sky, how throbbed this jargon of delight. And
+turning as if in hope to share my enthusiasm, a childish peal of
+laughter showed me I was not alone.
+
+Beneath a canopy of holly branches and yew two children sat playing.
+The nearer child's hair was golden, glistening round his face of
+roses, and he it was who had laughed, tumbling on the sward. But the
+face of the further child was white almost as crystal, and the dark
+hair that encircled his head with its curved lines seemed as it were
+the shadow of the gold it showed beside. These children, it was plain,
+had been running and playing across the tombs; but now they were
+stooping together at some earnest sport. To me, even if they had seen
+me, they as yet paid no heed.
+
+I passed slowly towards them, deeming them at first of solitude's
+creation, my eyes dazzled so with the sun. But as I approached, so the
+branches beneath which they played gradually disparted, and I saw not
+far distant from them one sitting who evidently had these jocund boys
+in charge.
+
+I could not but hesitate awhile as I surveyed them. These were no
+mortal children playing naked amid the rose of evening: nor she who
+sat veiled and beautiful beneath the ruinous tombs. I turned with
+sudden dismay to depart from their presence unobserved as I had
+entered; but the children had now espied me, and came running, filled
+with wonder of Rosinante and the stranger beside her.
+
+They stayed at a little distance from us with dwelling eyes and parted
+lips. Then the fairer and, as it seemed to me, elder of the brothers
+stooped and plucked a few blades of grass and proffered them, half
+fearfully, to the beast that amazed him. But the other gave less heed
+to Rosinante, fixed the filmy lustre of his eyes on me, his wonderful
+young face veiled with that wisdom which is in all children, and of an
+immutable gravity.
+
+But by this time, she who it seemed had the charge of these children
+had followed them with her eyes. To her then, leaving Rosinante in an
+ecstasy of timidity before such god-like boys, I addressed myself.
+
+So might a traveller lost beneath strange stars address unanswering
+Night. She, however, raised a compassionate face to me and listened
+with happy seriousness as to a child returned in safety at evening
+from some foolhardy venture. Yet there seemed only a deeper
+youthfulness in her face for all its eternity of brooding on her
+beauteous children. Narrow leaves of olive formed her chaplet. The
+darker wine-colours of the sea changed in her eyes. There was no sense
+of gloom or sorrowfulness in her company. I began to see how the same
+still breast might bear celestial children so diverse as these, whose
+names, she told me presently, were Sleep and Death.
+
+I looked at the two children at play, "Ah! now," I said, almost
+involuntarily "the golden boy who has caught my horse's bridle in his
+hand, is not he Sleep? and he who considers his brother's
+boldness--that one is Death?"
+
+She smiled with lovely vanity, and told me how strange of heart young
+children are. How they will alter and vary, never the same for long
+together, but led by indiscoverable caprices and obedient to some
+further will. She smiled and said how that sometimes, when the birds
+hush suddenly from song, Sleep would creep tenderly and sadly to her
+knees, and Death clasp her roguishly, as if in some secret with the
+beams of morning. So would they change, one to the likeness of the
+other. But Sleep was, perhaps, of the gentler disposition; a little
+obstinate and headstrong; at times, indeed, beyond all cajolery; yet
+very sweet of impulse and ardent to make amends. But Death's caprices
+baffled even her. He seemed now so pitiless and unlovely of heart; and
+now, as if possessed, passionate and swift; and now would break away
+burning from her arms in an infinite tenderness.
+
+But best she loved them when there came a transient peace to both; and
+looking upon them laid embraced in the shadow-casting moonbeam, not
+even she could undoubtingly touch the brow of each beneath their
+likened hair, and say this is the elder, and this the dreamless
+younger of the boys.
+
+Seeing, too, my eyes cast upon the undecipherable letters of the tomb
+by which we sat, she told me how that once, near before dawn, she had
+awoke in the twilight to find their places empty where the children
+had lain at her side, and had sought on, at last to find them even
+here, weeping and quarrelling, and red with anger. Little by little,
+and with many tears, she had gleaned the cause of their quarrel--how
+that, like very children, they had run a race at cockcrow, and all
+these stones and the slender bones and ashes beneath to be the prize;
+and how that, running, both had come together to the goal set, and
+both had claimed the victory.
+
+"Yet both seem happy now to share it," I said, "or how else were they
+comforted?" Nor did I consider before she told me that they will run
+again when they be grown men, Sleep and Death, in just such a thick
+darkness before dawn; and one called Love will then run with them, who
+is very vehement and fleet of foot, and never turns aside, nor
+falters. He who then shall win may ask a different prize. For truth to
+tell, she said, only children can find delight for long in dust and
+ruin.
+
+At that moment Death himself came hastening to his mother, and, taking
+her hand, turned to the enormous picture of the skies as if in some
+faint apprehension. But Sleep saw nothing amiss, lay at full length
+among the "cool-rooted flowers," while Rosinante grazed beside him.
+
+I told her also, in turn, of my journey; and that although transient,
+or everlasting, solace of all restlessness and sorrow and too-wild
+happiness may be found in them, yet men think not often on these
+divine children.
+
+"As for this one," I said, looking down into the pathless beauty of
+Death's grey eyes, "some fear, some mock, some despise him; some
+violently, some without complaint pursue; most men would altogether
+dismiss, and forget him. He is but a child, no older than the sea, no
+stranger than the mountains, pure and cold as the water-springs. Yet
+to the bolster of fever his vision flits; and pain drags a heavy net
+to snare him; and silence is his echoing gallery; and the gold of
+Sleep his final veil. They shall play on; and see, lady, flame has
+left the clouds; the birds are at rest. The earth breathes in, and it
+is day; and exhales her breath, and it is night. Let them then play
+secret and innocent between her breasts, comfort her with silence
+above the tempest of her heart.... But I!--what am I?--a traveller,
+footsore and far."
+
+And then it was that I became conscious of a warm, sly, youthful hand
+in mine, and turned, half in dread, to see only happy Sleep laughing
+under his glistening hair into my eyes. I strove in vain against his
+sorcery; rolled foolish orbs on that pure, starry face; and then I
+smelled as it were rain, and heard as it were tempestuous
+forest-trees--fell asleep among the tombs.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+    _I warmed both hands before the fire of life._
+
+    --WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
+
+
+Surely some hueless poppy blossomed in the darkness of those ruins, or
+the soulless ashes of the dead breathe out a drowsy influence. Never
+have I slept so heavily, yet never perhaps beneath so cold a tester.
+Sunbeams streaming between the crests of the cypresses awoke me. I
+leapt up as if a hundred sentinels had shouted--where none kept
+visible watch.
+
+An odour of a languid sweetness pervaded the air. There was no wind to
+stir the dew-besprinkled trees. The old, scarred gravestones stood in
+a thick sunshine, afloat with bees. But Rosinante had preferred to
+survey sunshine out of shade. In lush grass I found her, the picture
+of age, foot crook'd, and head dejected.
+
+Yet she followed me uncomplaining along these narrow avenues of
+silence, and without more ado turned her trivial tail on Death and his
+dim flocks, and well-nigh scampered me off into the vivid morning.
+Soon afterwards, with Hunger in the saddle, we began to climb a road
+almost precipitous, and stony in the extreme. Often enough we breathed
+ourselves as best we could in the still, sultry air, and rested on the
+sun-dappled slopes. But at length we came out upon the crest, and
+surveyed in the first splendour of day a region of extraordinary
+grandeur.
+
+Beneath a clear sky to the east stood a range of mountains, cold and
+changeless beneath their snows. At my feet a great river flowed,
+broken here and there with isles in the bright flood. The dark
+champaign that flanked its shores was of an unusual verdure. Mystery
+and peril brooded on those distant ravines, the vapours of their
+far-descending cataracts. In such abysmal fastnesses as these the
+Hyrcan tiger might hide his surly generations. This was an air for the
+sun-disdaining eagle, a country of transcendent brightness, its
+flowers strangely pure and perfect, its waters more limpid, its
+grazing herds, its birds, its cedar trees, the masters of their kind.
+
+Yet not on these nearer glories my eyes found rest. But, with a kind
+of heartache, I gazed, as it were towards home, upon the distant
+waters of the sea. Here, on the crest of this green hill, was silence.
+There, too, was profounder silence on the sea's untrampled floor.
+Whence comes that angel out of nought whispering into the ear strange
+syllables? I know not; but so seemed I to stand--a shattered
+instrument in the world, past all true music, o'er which none the less
+the invisible lute-master stooped. Could I but catch, could I but in
+words express the music his bent fingers intended, the mystery, the
+peace--well; then I should indeed journey solitary on the face of the
+earth, a changeling in its cities.
+
+I half feared to descend into a country so diverse from any I had yet
+seen. Hitherto at least I had encountered little else than
+friendliness. But here--doves in eyries! I stood, twisting my fingers
+in Rosinante's mane, debating and debating. And she turned her face to
+me, and looked with age into my eyes: and I know not how woke courage
+in me again.
+
+"On then?" I said, on the height. And the gentle beast leaned forward
+and coughed into the valley what might indeed be "Yea!"
+
+So we began to descend. Down we went, alone, yet not unhappy, until in
+a while I discovered, about a hundred yards in advance of me, another
+traveller on the road, ambling easily along at an equal pace with
+mine. I know not how far I followed in his track debating whether to
+overtake and to accost him, or to follow on till a more favourable
+chance offered.
+
+But Chance--avenger of all shilly-shally--settled the matter offhand.
+For my traveller, after casting one comprehensive glance towards the
+skies, suddenly whisked off at a canter that quickly carried him out
+of sight.
+
+A chill wind had begun to blow, lifting in gusts dust into the air and
+whitening the tree-tops. As suddenly, calm succeeded. A cloud of
+flies droned fretfully about my ears. And I watched advancing,
+league-high, transfigured with sunbeams, the enormous gloom of storm.
+The sun smote from a silvery haze upon its peaks and gorges. Wind, far
+above the earth, moaned, and fell; only to sound once more in the
+distance in a mournful trumpeting. Lightnings played along the
+desolate hills. The sun was darkened. A vast flight of snowy,
+arrow-winged birds streamed voiceless beneath his place. And day
+withdrew its boundaries, spread to the nearer forests a bright
+amphitheatre, fitful with light, whereof it seemed to me Rosinante
+with her poor burden was the centre and the butt. I confess I began to
+dread lest even my mere surmise of danger should engage the piercing
+lightnings; as if in the mystery of life storm and a timorous thought
+might yet be of a kin.
+
+We hastened on at the most pathetic of gallops. Nor seemed indeed the
+beauteous lightning to regard at all that restless mote upon the
+cirque of its entranced fairness. In an instantaneous silence I heard
+a tiny beat of hoofs; in instantaneous gloom recognised almost with
+astonishment my own shape bowed upon the saddle. It was a majestic
+entry into a kingdom so far-famed.
+
+The storm showed no abatement when at last I found shelter. From far
+away I had espied in the immeasurable glare a country barn beneath
+trees. Arrived there, I almost fell off my horse into as incongruous
+and lighthearted a company as ever was seen.
+
+In the midst of the floor of the barn, upon a heap of hay, sat a fool
+in motley blowing with all his wind into a pipe. It was a cunning tune
+he played too, rich and heady. And so seemed the company to find it,
+dancers--some thirty or more--capering round him with all the abandon
+heart can feel and heel can answer to. As for pose, he whose horse now
+stood smoking beside my own first drew my attention--a smooth,
+small-bearded, solemn man, a little beyond his prime. He lifted his
+toes with such inimitable agility, postured his fingers so daintily,
+conducted his melon-belly with so much elegance, and exhaled such a
+warm joy in the sport that I could look at nothing else at first for
+delight in him.
+
+But there were slim maids too among the plumper and ruddier, like
+crocuses, like lilac, like whey, with all their fragrance and
+freshness and lightness. Such eyes adazzle dancing with mine, such
+nimble and discreet ankles, such gimp English middles, and such a gay
+delight in the mere grace of the lilting and tripping beneath rafters
+ringing loud with thunder, that Pan himself might skip across a
+hundred furrows for sheer envy to witness.
+
+As for the jolly rustics that were jogging their wits away with such
+delightful gravity, but little time was given me to admire them ere I
+also was snatched into the ring, and found brown eyes dwelling with
+mine, and a hand like lettuces in the dog-days. Round and about we
+skipped in the golden straw, amidst treasuries of hay, puffing and
+spinning. And the quiet lightnings quivered between the beams, and
+the monstrous "Ah!" of the thunder submerged the pipe's sweetness.
+Till at last all began to gasp and blow indeed, and the nodding Fool
+to sip, and sip, as if _in extremis_ over his mouthpiece. Then we
+rested awhile, with a medley of shrill laughter and guffaws, while the
+rain streamed lightning-lit upon the trees and tore the clouds to
+tatters.
+
+With some little circumstance my traveller picked his way to me, and
+with a grave civility bowed me a sort of general welcome. Whereupon
+ensued such wit and banter as made me thankful when the opening
+impudence of a kind of jig set the heels and the petticoats of the
+company tossing once more. We danced the lightning out, and piped the
+thunder from the skies. And by then I was so faint with fasting, and
+so deep in love with at least five young country faces, that I
+scarcely knew head from heels; still less, when a long draught of a
+kind of thin, sweet ale had mounted to its sphere.
+
+Away we all trooped over the flashing fields, noisy as jays in the
+fresh, sweet air, some to their mowing, some to their milking, but
+more, indeed, I truly suspect, to that exquisite _Nirvana_ from which
+the tempest's travail had aroused them. I waved my hand, striving in
+vain to keep my eyes on one blest, beguiling face of all that glanced
+behind them. But, she gone, I turned into the rainy lane once more
+with my new acquaintance, discreeter, but not less giddy, it seemed,
+than I.
+
+We had not far to go--past a meadow or two, a low green wall, a black
+fish-pool--and soon the tumbledown gables of a house came into view.
+My companion waved his open fingers at the crooked casements and
+peered into my face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "we will talk, we will talk, you and I: I view it in
+your eye, sir--clear and full and profound--such ever goes with
+eloquence. 'Tis my delight. What are we else than beasts?--beasts that
+perish? I never tire; I never weary;--give me to dance and to sing,
+but ever to talk: then am I at ease. Heaven is just. Enter,
+sir--enter!"
+
+He led me by a shady alley into his orchard, and thence to a stable,
+where we left Rosinante at hob-a-nob with his mare over a friendly
+bottle of hay. And we ourselves passed into the house, and ascended a
+staircase into an upper chamber. This chamber was raftered, its walls
+hung with an obscure tapestry, its floor strewn with sand, and its
+lozenged casement partly shuttered against the blaze of sunshine that
+flowed across the forests far away to the west.
+
+My friend eyed me brightly and busily as a starling. "You danced fine,
+sir," he said. "Oh! it is a _pleasure_ to me. Ay, and now I come to
+consider it, methought I did hear hoofs behind me that might yet be
+echo. No, but I did _not_ think: 'twas but my ear cried to his
+dreaming master. Ever dreaming; God help at last the awakening! But
+well met, well met, I say again. I am cheered. And you but just in
+time! Nay, I would not have missed him for a ransom. So--so--this leg,
+that leg; up now--hands over down we go! Lackaday, I am old bones for
+such freaks. Once!... '_Memento mori_!' say I, and smell the shower
+the sweeter for it. Be seated, sir, bench or stool, wheresoever you'd
+be. You're looking peaked. That burden rings in my skull like a
+bagpipe. Toot-a-tootie, toot-a-toot! Och, sad days!"
+
+We devoured our meal of cold meats and pickled fish, fruit and junket
+and a kind of harsh cheese, as if in contest for a wager. And copious
+was the thin spicy wine with which we swam it home. Ever and again my
+host would desist, to whistle, or croon (with a packed mouth) in the
+dismallest of tenors, a stave or two of the tune we had danced to,
+bobbing head and foot in sternest time. Then a great vacancy would
+overspread his face turned to the window, as suddenly to gather to a
+cheerful smile, and light, irradiated, once more on me. Then down
+would drop his chin over his plate, and away go finger and spoon among
+his victuals in a dance as brisk and whole-hearted as the other.
+
+He took me out again into his garden after supper, and we walked
+beneath the trees.
+
+"'Tis bliss to be a bachelor, sir," he said, gazing on the resinous
+trunk of an old damson tree. "I gorge, I guzzle; I am merry, am
+melancholy; studious, harmonical, drowsy,--and none to scold
+or deny me. For the rest, why, youth is vain: yet youth had
+pleasure--innocence and delight. I chew the cud of many a peaceful
+acre. Ay, I have nibbled roses in my time. But now, what now? I have
+lived so long far from courts and courtesy, grace and fashion, and am
+so much my own close and indifferent friend--Why! he is happy who has
+solitude for housemate, company for guest. I say it, I say it; I marry
+daily wives of memory's fashioning, and dream at peace."
+
+It seemed an old bone he picked with Destiny.
+
+"There's much to be said," I replied as profoundly as I could.
+
+The air he now lulled youth asleep with was a very cheerless
+threnody, but he brightened once more at praise of his delightful
+orchard.
+
+"You like it, sir? You speak kindly, sir. It is my all; root and
+branch: how many a summer's moons have I seen shine hereon! I know
+it--there is bliss to come;--miraculous Paradise for men even dull as
+I. Yet 'twill be strange to me--without my house and orchard. Age
+tends to earth, sir, till even an odour may awake the dead--a branch
+in the air call with its fluttering a face beyond Time to vanquish
+dear. 'Soul, soul,' I cry, 'forget thy dust, forget thy vaunting
+ashes!'--and speak in vain. So's life!"
+
+And when we had gone in again, and candles had been lit in his fresh
+and narrow chamber, seeing a viol upon a chest, I begged a little
+music.
+
+He quite eagerly, with a boyish peal of laughter, complied; and sat
+down with a very solemn face, his brows uplifted, and sang between the
+candles to a pathetic air this doggerel:--
+
+    There's a dark tree and a sad tree,
+    Where sweet Alice waits, unheeded,
+    For her lover long-time absent,
+    Plucking rushes by the river.
+
+    Let the bird sing, let the buck sport,
+    Let the sun sink to his setting;
+    Not one star that stands in darkness
+    Shines upon her absent lover.
+
+    But his stone lies 'neath the dark tree,
+    Cold to bosom, deaf to weeping;
+    And 'tis gathering moss she touches,
+    Where the locks lay of her lover.
+
+"A dolesome thing," he said; "but my mother was wont to sing it to the
+virginals. 'Cold to bosom,'" he reiterated with a plangent cadence; "I
+remember them all, sir; from the cradle I had a gift for music." And
+then, with an ample flirt of his bow, he broke, all beams and smiles,
+into this ingenuous ditty:
+
+        The goodman said,
+        "'Tis time for bed,
+    Come, mistress, get us quick to pray;
+        Call in the maids
+        From out the glades
+      Where they with lovers stray,
+      With love, and love do stray."
+
+        "Nay, master mine,
+        The night is fine,
+    And time's enough all dark to pray;
+        'Tis April buds
+        Bedeck the woods
+      Where simple maids away
+      With love, and love do stray.
+
+        "Now we are old,
+        And nigh the mould,
+    'Tis meet on feeble knees to pray;
+        When once we'd roam,
+        'Twas else cried, 'Come,
+      And sigh the dusk away,
+      With love, and love to stray.'"
+
+        So they gat in
+        To pray till nine;
+    Then called, "Come maids, true maids, away!
+        Kiss and begone,
+        Ha' done, ha' done,
+      Until another day
+      With love, and love to stray!"
+
+        Oh, it were best
+        If so to rest
+    Went man and maid in peace away!
+        The throes a heart
+        May make to smart
+      Unless love have his way,
+      In April woods to stray!--
+
+      In April woods to stray!
+
+And that finished with another burst of laughter, he set very adroitly
+to the mimicry of beasts and birds upon his frets. Never have I seen
+a face so consummately the action's. His every fibre answered to the
+call; his eyebrows twitched like an orator's; his very nose was
+plastic.
+
+"Hst!" he cried softly; "hither struts chanticleer!"
+"Cock-a-diddle-doo!" crowed the wire. "Now, prithee, Dame Partlett!"
+and down bustled a hen from an egg like cinnamon. A cat with kittens
+mewed along the string, anxious and tender.
+
+"A woodpecker," he cried, directing momentarily a sedulous, clear eye
+on me. And lo, "inviolable quietness" and the smooth beech-boughs!
+"And thus," he said, sitting closer, "the martlets were wont to
+whimper about the walls of the castle of Inverness, the castle of
+Macbeth."
+
+"Macbeth!" I repeated--"Macbeth!"
+
+"Ay," he said, "it was his seat while yet a simple soldier--flocks and
+flocks of them, wheeling hither, thither, in the evening air, crying
+and calling."
+
+I listened in a kind of confusion. "... And Duncan," I said....
+
+He eyed me with immense pleasure, and nodded with brilliant eyes on
+mine.
+
+"What looking man was he?" I said at last as carelessly as I dared.
+"... The King, you mean,--of Scotland."
+
+He magnanimously ignored my confusion, and paused to build his
+sentence.
+
+"'Duncan'?" he said. "The question calls him straight to mind. A
+lean-locked, womanish countenance; sickly, yet never sick; timid, yet
+most obdurate; more sly than politic. An _ignis fatuus_, sir, in a
+world of soldiers." His eye wandered.... "'Twas a marvellous sanative
+air, crisp and pure; but for him, one draught and outer darkness. I
+myself viewed his royal entry from the gallery--pacing urbane to
+slaughter; and I uttered a sigh to see him. 'Why, sir, do you sigh to
+see the king?' cried one softly that stood by. 'I sigh, my lord,' I
+answered to the instant, 'at sight of a monarch even Duncan's match!'"
+
+He looked his wildest astonishment at me.
+
+"Not, I'd have you remember--not that 'twas blood I did foresee.... To
+kill in blood a man, and he a king, so near to natural death ...
+foul, foul!"
+
+"And Macbeth?" I said presently--"Macbeth...?"
+
+He laid down his viol with prolonged care.
+
+"His was a soul, sir, nobler than his fate. I followed him not without
+love from boyhood--a youth almost too fine of spirit; shrinking
+from all violence, over-nicely; eloquent, yet chary of speech,
+and of a dark profundity of thought. The questions he would
+patter!--unanswerable, searching earth and heaven through.... And who
+now was it told me the traitor Judas's hair was red?--yet not red his,
+but of a reddish chestnut, fine and bushy. Children have played their
+harmless hands at hide-and-seek therein. O sea of many winds!
+
+"For come gloom on the hills, floods, discolouring mist; breathe but
+some grandam's tale of darkness and blood and doubleness in his
+hearing: all changed. Flame kindled; a fevered unrest drove him out;
+and Ambition, that spotted hound of hell, strained at the leash
+towards the Pit.
+
+"So runs the world--the ardent and the lofty. We are beyond earth's
+story as 'tis told, sir. All's shallower than the heart of man....
+Indeed, 'twas one more shattered altar to Hymen."
+
+"'Hymen!'" I said.
+
+He brooded long and silently, clipping his small beard. And while he
+was so brooding, a mouse, a moth, dust--I know not what, stirred the
+listening strings of his viol to sound, and woke him with a start.
+
+"I vowed, sir, then, to dismiss all memory of such unhappy deeds from
+mind--never to speak again that broken lady's name. Oh! I have seen
+sad ends--pride abased, splendour dismantled, courage to terror come,
+guilt to a crying guilelessness."
+
+"'Guilelessness?'" I said. "Lady Macbeth at least was past all
+changing."
+
+The doctor stood up and cast a deep scrutiny on me, which yet,
+perhaps, was partly on himself.
+
+"Perceive, sir," he said, "this table--broader, longer, splendidly
+burdened; and all adown both sides the board, thanes and their
+ladies, lords, and gentlemen, guests bidden to a royal banquet. 'Twas
+then in that bleak and dismal country--the Palace of Forres. Torches
+flared in the hall; to every man a servant or two: we sat in pomp."
+
+He paused again, and gravely withdrew behind the tapestry.
+
+"And presently," he cried therefrom, suiting his action to the word,
+"to the blast of hautboys enters the king in state thus, with his
+attendant lords. And with all that rich and familiar courtesy of which
+he was master in his easier moods he passed from one to another,
+greeting with supple dignity on his way, till he came at last softly
+to the place prepared for him at table. And suddenly--shall I ever
+forget, it, sir?--it seemed silence ran like a flame from mouth to
+mouth as there he stood, thus, marble-still, his eyes fixed in a
+leaden glare. And he raised his face and looked once round on us all
+with a forlorn astonishment and wrath, like one with a death-wound--I
+never saw the like of such a face.
+
+"Whereat, beseeching us to be calm, and pay no heed, the queen laid
+her hand on his and called him. And his orbs rolled down once more
+upon the empty place, and stuck as if at grapple with some horror seen
+within. He muttered aloud in peevish altercation--once more to heave
+up his frame, to sigh and shake himself, and lo!--"
+
+The viol-strings rang to his "lo!"
+
+"Lo, sir, the Unseen had conquered. His lip sagged into his beard, he
+babbled with open mouth, and leaned on his lady with such an impotent
+and slavish regard as I hope never to see again man pay to woman....
+We thought no more of supper after that....
+
+"But what do I--?" The doctor laid a cautioning finger on his mouth.
+
+"The company was dispersed, the palace gloomy with night (and they
+were black nights at Forres!), and on the walls I heard the sentinel's
+replying.... In the wood's last glow I entered and stood in his
+self-same station before the empty stool. And even as I stood thus, my
+hair creeping, my will concentred, gazing with every cord at stretch,
+fell a light, light footfall behind me." He glanced whitely over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Sir, it was the queen come softly out of slumber on my own unquiet
+errand."
+
+The doctor strode to the door, and peered out like a man suspicious or
+guilty of treachery. It was indeed a house of broken silences. And
+there, in the doorway, he seemed to be addressing his own saddened
+conscience.
+
+"With all my skill, and all a leal man's gentleness, I solaced and
+persuaded, and made an oath, and conducted her back to her own chamber
+unperceived. How weak is sleep!... It was a habit, sir, contracted in
+childhood, long dormant, that Evil had woke again. The Past awaits us
+all. So run Time's sands, till mercy's globe is empty and ..."
+
+He stooped and whispered it across to me: "... A child, a comparative
+child, shrunk to an anatomy, her beauty changed, ghostly of youth and
+all its sadness, baffled by a word, slave to a doctor's nod! None
+knew but I, and, at the last, one of her ladies--a gentle, faithful,
+and fearful creature. Nor she till far beyond all mischief....
+
+"Wild deeds are done. But to have blood on the hands, a cry in the
+ears, and one same glassy face eye to eye, that nothing can dim, nor
+even slumber pacify--dreams, dreams, intangible, enorm! Forefend them,
+God, from me!"
+
+He stood a moment as if he were listening; then turned, smiling
+irresolutely, and eyed me aimlessly. He seemed afraid of his own
+house, askance at his own furniture. Yet, though I scarce know why, I
+felt he had not told me the whole truth. Something fidelity had yet
+withheld from vanity. I longed to enquire further. I put aside how
+many burning questions awhile!
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+    _And if we gang to sea, master,
+    I fear we'll come to harm._
+
+    --OLD BALLAD.
+
+
+By and by less anxious talk soothed him. Indeed it was he who
+suggested one last bright draught of air beneath his trees before
+retiring. Down we went again with some unnecessary clatter. And here
+were stars between the fruited boughs, silvery Capella and the Twins,
+and low on the sky's moonlit border Venus excellently bright.
+
+He asked me whither I proposed going, if I needs must go; besought
+there and then in the ambrosial night-air the history of my
+wanderings--a mere nine days' wonder; and told me how he himself much
+feared and hated the sea.
+
+He questioned me also with not a little subtilty (and double-dealing
+too, I fancied,) regarding my own country, and of things present, and
+things real. In fact nothing, I think, so much flattered his
+vanity--unless it was my wonder at Dame Partlett's clucking on his
+viol-strings--as to learn himself was famous even so far as to ages
+yet unborn. He gazed on the simple moon with limpid, amiable eyes, and
+caught my fingers in his.
+
+How, then, could I even so much as hint to enquire which century
+indeed was his, who had no need of any? How could I abash that kindly
+vanity of his by adding also that, however famous, he must needs be to
+all eternity--nameless?
+
+We conversed long and earnestly in the coolness. He very frankly
+counselled me not to venture unconducted further into this country.
+The land of Tragedy was broad. And though on this side it lay adjacent
+to the naive and civil people of Comedy; on the further, in the shadow
+of those bleak, unfooted mountains, lurked unnatural horror and
+desolation, and cruelty beyond all telling.
+
+He very kindly offered me too, if I was indeed bent on seeking the
+sea, an old boat, still seaworthy, that lay in a creek in the river
+near by, from which he was wont to fish. As for Rosinante, he supposed
+a rest would be by no means unwelcome to so faithful a friend. He
+himself rode little, being indolent, and a happier host than guest;
+and when I returned here, she should be stuffed with dainties awaiting
+me.
+
+To this I cordially and gratefully agreed; and also even more
+cordially to remain with him the next day; and the next night after
+that to take my watery departure.
+
+So it was. And a courteous, versatile, and vivacious companion I found
+him. Rare tales he told me, too, of better days than these, and rarest
+of his own never-more-returning youth. He loved his childhood, talked
+on of it with an artless zeal, his eyes a nest of singing-birds. How
+contrite he was for spirit lost, and daring withheld, and hope
+discomfited! How simple and urbane concerning his present lowly
+demands on life, on love, and on futurity! All this, too, with such
+packed winks and mirth and mourning, that I truly said good-night for
+the second time to him with a rather melancholy warmth, since
+to-morrow ... who can face unmoved that viewless sphinx? Moreover, the
+sea is wide, has fishes in plenty, but never too many coraled grottoes
+once poor mariners.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+    _'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day._
+
+    --JOHN WEBSTER.
+
+
+On the stroke of two next morning the doctor conducted me down to the
+creek in the river-bank where he kept his boat. There was little light
+but of the stars in the sky; nothing stirring. She floated dim and
+monstrous on the softly-running water, a navy in germ, and could have
+sat without danger thirty men like me. We stood on the bank, side by
+side, eyeing her vacancy. And (I can answer for myself) night-thoughts
+rose up in us at sight of her. Was it indeed only wind in the reeds
+that sighed around us? only the restless water insistently whispering
+and calling? only of darkness were these forbidding shadows?
+
+I looked up sharply at the doctor from such pensive embroidery, and
+found him as far away as I. He nodded and smiled, and we shook hands
+on the bank in the thick mist.
+
+"There's biscuits and a little meat, wine, and fruit," he said in an
+undertone. "God be with you, sir! I sadly mistrust the future. ...
+'Tis ever my way, at parting."
+
+We said good-bye again, to the dream-cry of some little fluttering
+creature of the rushes. And well before dawn I was floating midstream,
+my friend a memory, Rosinante in clover, and my travels, so far as
+this brief narrative will tell, nearly ended.
+
+I saw nothing but a few long-haired, grazing cattle on my voyage, that
+eyed me but cursorily. I passed unmolested among the waterfowl,
+between the never-silent rushes, beneath a sky refreshed and sweetened
+with storm. The boat was enormously heavy and made slow progress. When
+too the tide began to flow I must needs push close in to the bank and
+await the ebb. But towards evening of the third day I began to
+approach the sea.
+
+I listened to the wailing of its long-winged gulls; snuffed with how
+broad-nostrilled a gusto that savour not even pinewoods can match,
+nor any wild flower disguise; and heard at last the sound that stirs
+beneath all music--the deep's loud-falling billow.
+
+I pushed ashore, climbed the sandy bank, and moored my boat to an ash
+tree at the waterside. And after scrambling some little distance over
+dunes yet warm with the sun, I came out at length, and stood like a
+Greek before the sea.
+
+Here my bright river disembogued in noise and foam. Far to either side
+of me stretched the faint gold horns of a bay; and beyond me, almost
+violet in the shadow of its waves, the shipless sea.
+
+I looked on the breaking water with a divided heart. Its light, salt
+airs, its solitary beauty, its illimitable reaches seemed tidings of a
+region I could remember only as one who, remembering that he has
+dreamed, remembers nothing more. Larks rose, singing, behind me. In a
+calm, golden light my eager river quarrelled with its peace. Here
+indeed was solitude!
+
+It was in searching sea and cliff for the least sign of life that I
+thought I descried on the furthest extremity of the nearer of the
+horns of the bay the spires and smouldering domes of a little city. If
+I gazed intently, they seemed to vanish away, yet still to shine above
+the azure if, raising my eyes, I looked again.
+
+So, caring not how far I must go so long as my path lay beside these
+breaking waters, I set out on the firm, white sands to prove this city
+the mirage I deemed it.
+
+What wonder, then, my senses fell asleep in that vast lullaby! And out
+of a daydream almost as deep as that in which I first set out, I was
+suddenly aroused by a light tapping sound, distinct and regular
+between the roaring breakers.
+
+I lifted my eyes to find the city I was seeking evanished away indeed.
+But nearer at hand a child was playing upon the beach, whose spade
+among the pebbles had caused the birdlike noise I had heard.
+
+So engrossed was she with her building in the sand that she had not
+heard me approaching. She laboured on at the margin of the cliff's
+shadow where the sea-birds cried, answering Echo in the rocks. So
+solitary and yet so intent, so sedate and yet so eager a little figure
+she seemed in the long motionlessness of the shore, by the dark
+heedlessness of the sea, I hesitated to disturb her.
+
+Who of all Time's children could this be playing uncompanioned by the
+sea? And at a little distance betwixt me and her in the softly-mounded
+sand her spade had already scrawled in large, ungainly capitals, the
+answer--"Annabel Lee." The little flounced black frock, the tresses of
+black hair, the small, beautiful dark face--this then was Annabel Lee;
+and that bright, phantom city I had seen--that was the vanishing
+mockery of her kingdom.
+
+I called her from where I stood--"Annabel Lee!" She lifted her head
+and shook back her hair, and gazed at me startled and intent. I went
+nearer.
+
+"You are a very lonely little girl," I said.
+
+"I am building in the sand," she answered.
+
+"A castle?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"It was in dreams," she said, flushing darkly.
+
+"What kind of dream was it in then?"
+
+"Oh! I often dream it; and I build it in the sand. But there's never
+time: the sea comes back."
+
+"Was the tide quite high when you began?" I asked; for now it was low.
+
+"Just that much from the stones," she said; "I waited for it ever so
+long."
+
+"It has a long way to come yet," I said; "you will finish it _this_
+time, I dare say."
+
+She shook her head and lifted her spade.
+
+"Oh no; it is much bigger, more than twice. And I haven't the seaweed,
+or the shells, and it comes back very, very quickly."
+
+"But where is the little boy you play with down here by the sea?"
+
+She glanced at me swiftly and surely; and shook her head again.
+
+"He would help you."
+
+"He didn't in my dream," she said doubtfully. She raised long,
+stealthy eyes to mine, and spoke softly and deliberately. "Besides,
+there isn't any little boy."
+
+"None, Annabel Lee?" I said.
+
+"Why," she answered, "I have played here years and years and years,
+and there are only the gulls and terns and cormorants, and that!" She
+pointed with her spade towards the broken water.
+
+"You know all their names then?" I said.
+
+"Some I know," she answered with a little frown, and looked far out to
+sea. Then, turning her eyes, she gazed long at me, searchingly,
+forlornly on a stranger. "I am going home now," she said.
+
+I looked at the house of sand and smiled. But she shook her head once
+more.
+
+"It never _could_ be finished," she said firmly, "though I tried and
+tried, unless the sea would keep quite still just once all day,
+without going to and fro. And then," she added with a flash of
+anger--"then I would not build."
+
+"Well," said I, "when it is nearly finished, and the water washes up,
+and up, and washes it away, here is a flower that came from
+Fairyland. And that, dear heart, is none so far away."
+
+She took the purple flower I had plucked in Ennui's garden in her
+slim, cold hand.
+
+"It's amaranth," she said; and I have never seen so old a little look
+in a child's eyes.
+
+"And all the flowers' names too?" I said.
+
+She frowned again. "It's amaranth," she said, and ran off lightly and
+so deftly among the rocks and in the shadow that was advancing now
+even upon the foam of the sea, that she had vanished before I had time
+to deter, or to pursue her. I sought her awhile, until the dark rack
+of sunset obscured the light, and the sea's voice changed; then I
+desisted.
+
+It was useless to remain longer beneath the looming caves, among the
+stones of so inhospitable a shore. I was a stranger to the tides. And
+it was clear high-water would submerge the narrow sands whereon I
+stood.
+
+Yet I cannot describe how loth I was to leave to night's desolation
+the shapeless house of a child. What fate was this that had set her
+to such profitless labour on the uttermost shores of "Tragedy"? What
+history lay behind, past, or, as it were, never to come? What gladness
+too high for earth had nearly once been hers? Her sea-mound took
+strange shapes in the gloom--light foliage of stone, dark heaviness of
+granite, wherein rumour played of all that restless rustling; small
+cries, vast murmurings from those green meadows, old as night.
+
+I turned, even ran away, at last. I found my boat in the gloaming
+where I had left her, safe and sound, except that all the doctor's
+good things had been nosed and tumbled by some hungry beast in my
+absence. I stood and thought vacantly of Crusoe, and pig, and guns.
+But what use to delay? I got in.
+
+If it were true, as the excellent doctor had informed me, that seamen
+reported islands not far distant from these shores, chance might bear
+me blissfully to one of these. And if not true ... I turned a rather
+startled face to the water, and made haste not to think. Fortune
+pierces deep, and baits her hooks with sceptics. Away I went, bobbing
+mightily over the waves that leapt and wrestled where sea and river
+met. These safely navigated, I rowed the great creature straight
+forward across the sea, my face towards dwindling land, my prow to
+Scorpio.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+    _Art thou pale for weariness._
+
+    --PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+
+The constellations of summer wheeled above me; and thus between water
+and starry sky I tossed solitary in my boat. The faint lustre of the
+sultry night hung like a mist from heaven to earth. Far away above the
+countries I had left perhaps for ever, the quiet lightnings played
+innocently in the heights.
+
+I rowed steadily on, guiding myself by some much ruddier star on the
+horizon. The pale phosphorescence on the wave, the simple sounds as of
+fish stirring in the water--the beauty and wonder of Night's
+dwelling-place seemed beyond content of mortality.
+
+I leaned on my oars in the midst of the deep sea, and seemed to hear,
+as it were, the mighty shout of Space. Faint and enormous beams of
+light trembled through the sky. And once I surprised a shadow as of
+wings sweeping darkly across, star on to glittering star, shaking the
+air, stilling the sea with the cold dews of night.
+
+So rowing, so resting, I passed the mark of midnight. Weariness began
+to steal over me. Between sleep and wake I heard strange cries across
+the deep. The thin silver of the old moon ebbed into the east. A chill
+mist welled out of the water and shrouded me in faintest gloom.
+Wherefore, battling no more against such influences, I shipped my
+oars, made my prayer in the midst of this dark womb of Life, and
+screening myself as best I could from the airs that soon would be
+moving before dawn, I lay down in the bottom of the boat and fell
+asleep.
+
+I slept apparently without dream, and woke as it seemed to the sound
+of voices singing some old music of the sea. A scent of a fragrance
+unknown to me was eddying in the wind. I raised my head, and saw with
+eyes half-dazed with light an island of cypress and poplar, green and
+still above the pure glass of its encircling waters. Straight before
+me, beyond green-bearded rocks dripping with foam, a little stone
+house, or temple, with columns and balconies of marble, stood hushed
+upon the cliff by the waterside.
+
+All now was soundless. They that sang, whether Nereids or Sirens, had
+descended to dimmer courts. The seamews floated on the water; the
+white dove strutted on the ledge; only the nightingales sang on in the
+thick arbours.
+
+I pushed my boat between the rocks towards the island. Bright and
+burning though the beams of the sun were, here seemed everlasting
+shadow. And though at my gradual intrusion, at splash or grating of
+keel, the startled cormorant cried in the air, and with one cry woke
+many, yet here too seemed perpetual stillness.
+
+How could I know what eyes might not be regarding me from bowers as
+thick and secluded as these? Yet this seemed an isle in some vague
+fashion familiar to me. To these same watery steps of stone, to this
+same mooring-ring surely I had voyaged before in dream or other life?
+I glanced into the water and saw my own fantastic image beneath the
+reflected gloom of cypresses, and knew at least, though I a shadow
+might be, this also was an island in a sea of shadows. Far from all
+land its marbles might be reared, yet they were warm to my touch, and
+these were nightingales, and those strutting doves beneath the little
+arches.
+
+So very gradually, and glancing to and fro into these unstirring
+groves, I came presently to the entrance court of the solitary villa
+on the cliff-side. Here a thread-like fountain plashed in its basin,
+the one thing astir in this cool retreat. Here, too, grew orange
+trees, with their unripe fruit upon them.
+
+But I continued, and venturing out upon the terrace overlooking the
+sea, saw again with a kind of astonishment the doctor's green,
+unwieldy boat beneath me and the emerald of the nearer waters tossing
+above the yellow sands.
+
+Here I had sat awhile lost in ease when I heard a footstep approaching
+and the rhythmical rustling of drapery, and knew eyes were now
+regarding me that I feared, yet much desired to meet.
+
+"Oh me!" said a clear yet almost languid voice. "How comes any man so
+softly?"
+
+Turning, I looked in the face of one how long a shade!
+
+I strove in vain to hide my confusion. This lady only smiled the
+deeper out of her baffling eyes.
+
+"If you could guess," she said presently, "how my heart leapt in me,
+as if, poor creature, any oars of earth could bring it ease, you would
+think me indeed as desolate as I am. To hear the bird scream,
+Traveller! I hastened from the gardens as if the black ships of the
+Greeks were come to take me. But such is long ago. Tell me, now, is
+the world yet harsh with men and sad with women? Burns yet that
+madness mirth calls Life? or truly does the puny, busy-tongued race
+sleep at last, nodding no more at me?"
+
+I told as best I could how chance had fetched me; told, too, that
+earth was yet pestered with men, and heavenly with women. "And the
+madness mirth calls Life flickers yet," I said; "and the little race
+tosses on in nightmare."
+
+"Ah!" she replied, "so ever run travellers' tales. I too once trusted
+to seem indifferent. But you, if shadow deceives me not, may yet
+return: I, only to the shades whence earth draws me. Meanwhile," she
+said, looking softly at the fountain playing in the clear gloom
+beyond, "rest and grow weary again, for there flock more questions to
+my tongue than spines on the blackthorn. The gardens are green with
+flowers, Traveller; let us talk where rosemary blows."
+
+Following her, I thought of the mysterious beauty of her eyes, her
+pallor, her slimness, and that faint smile which hovered between
+ecstasy and indifference, and away went my mind to one whom the
+shrewdest and tenderest of my own countrymen called once Criseyde.
+
+She led me into a garden all of faint-hued flowers. There bloomed no
+scarlet here, nor blue, nor yellow; but white and lavender and purest
+purple. Here, also, like torches of the sun, stood poplars each by
+each in the windless air, and the impenetrable darkness of cypresses
+beneath them.
+
+Here too was a fountain whose waters leapt no more, mossy and
+time-worn. I could not but think of those other gardens of my
+journey--Jane's, Ennui's, Dianeme's; and yet none like this for the
+shingley murmur of the sea, and the calmness of morning.
+
+"But, surely," I said, "this must be very far from Troy."
+
+"Far indeed," she said.
+
+"Far also from the hollow ships."
+
+"Far also from the hollow ships," she replied.
+
+"Yet," said I, "in the country whence I come is a saying: Where the
+treasure is--"
+
+"Alack! _there_ gloats the miser!" said Criseyde; "but I, Traveller,
+have no treasure, only a patchwork memory, and that's a great grief."
+
+"Well, then, forget! Why try in vain?" I said.
+
+She smiled and seated herself, leaning a little forward, looking upon
+the ground.
+
+"Soothfastness _must_,"' she said very gravely, raising her long black
+eyebrows; "yet truly it must be a forlorn thing to be remembered by
+one who so lightly forgets. So then I say, to teach myself to be
+true--'Look now, Criseyde, yonder fine, many-hearted poplar--that is
+Paris; and all that bank of marriage-ivy--that is marriageable Helen,
+green and cold; and the waterless fountain--that truly is Diomed; and
+the faded flower that nods in shadow, why, that must be me, even me,
+Criseyde!'"
+
+"And this thick rosemary-bush that smells of exile, who, then, is
+that?" I said.
+
+She looked deep into the shadow of the cypresses. "That," she said, "I
+think I have forgot again."
+
+"But," I said, "Diomed, now, was he quite so silent--not one trickle
+of persuasion?"
+
+"Why," she said, "I think 'twas the fountain was Diomed: I know not.
+And as for persuasion; he was a man forked, vain, and absolute as all.
+Let the waterless stone be sudden Diomed--you will confuse my wits,
+Mariner; where, then, were I?" She smiled, stooping lower. "You have
+voyaged far?" she said.
+
+"From childhood to this side regret," I answered rather sadly.
+
+"'Tis a sad end to a sweet tale," she said, "were it but truly told.
+But yet, and yet, and yet--you may return, and life heals every, every
+wound. _I_ must look on the ground and make amends. 'Tis this same
+making amends men now call 'Purgatory,' they tell me."
+
+"'Amends,'" I said; "to whom? for what?"
+
+"Welaway," said she, with a narrow fork between her brows; "to most
+men and to all women, for being that Criseyde." She gazed half
+solemnly at some picture of reverie.
+
+"But which Criseyde?" I said. "She who was every wind's, or but one
+perfect summer's?"
+
+She glanced strangely at me. "Ask of the night that burns so many
+stars," she said. "All's done; all passes. Yet my poor busy Uncle
+Pandar had no such changes, nor Hector, nor ... Men change not: they
+love and love again--one same tune of a myriad verses."
+
+"All?" I said.
+
+She tossed lightly a little dust from her hand.
+
+"Nay--all," she replied; "but what is that to me? Mine only to see
+Charon on the wave pass light over and return. Man of the green world,
+prithee die not yet awhile! 'Tis dull being a shade. See these cold
+palms! Yet my heart beats on."
+
+"For what?" I said.
+
+Criseyde folded her hands and leaned her cheek sidelong upon the
+stone.
+
+"For what?" I repeated.
+
+"For what but idle questions?" she said; "for a traveller's vanity
+that deems looking love-boys into a woman's eyes her sweeter
+entertainment than all the heroes of Troy. Oh, for a house of nought
+to be at peace in! Oh, gooseish swan! Oh, brittle vows! Tell me,
+Voyager, is it not so?--that men are merely angry boys with beards;
+and women--repeat not, ye who know! Never yet set I these steadfast
+eyes on a man that would not steal the moon for taper--would she but
+come down." She turned an arch face to me: "And what is to be
+faithful?"
+
+"I?" said I--"'to be faithful?'"
+
+"It is," she said, "to rise and never set, O sun of utter weariness!
+It is to kindle and never be quenched, O fretting fire of midsummer!
+It is to be snared and always sing, O shrilling bird of dulness! It is
+to come, not go; smile, not sigh; wake, never sleep. Couldst _thou_
+love so many nots to a silk string?"
+
+"What, then, is to change,... to be fickle?" I said.
+
+"Ah! to be fickle," she said, "is showers after drought, seas after
+sand; to cry, unechoed; to be thirsty, the pitcher broken. And--ask
+now this pitiless darkness of the eyes!--to be remembered though
+Lethe flows between. Nay, you shall watch even hope away ere another
+comes like me to mope and sigh, and play at swords with Memory."
+
+She rose to her feet and drew her hands across her face, and smiling,
+sighed deeply. And I saw how inscrutable and lovely she must ever seem
+to eyes scornful of mean men's idolatries.
+
+"And you will embark again," she said softly; "and in how small a ship
+on seas so mighty! And whither next will fate entice you, to what new
+sorrows?"
+
+"Who knows?" I said. "And to what further peace?"
+
+She laughed lightly. "Speak not of mockeries," she said, and fell
+silent.
+
+She seemed to be thinking quickly and deeply; for even though I did
+not turn to her, I could see in imagination the restless sparkling of
+her eyes, the stillness of her ringless hands. Then suddenly she
+turned.
+
+"Stranger," she said, drawing her finger softly along the cold stone
+of the bench, "there yet remain a few bright hours to morning. Who
+knows, seeing that felicity is with the bold, did I cast off into the
+sea--who knows whereto I'd come! 'Tis but a little way to being
+happy--a touch of the hand, a lifting of the brows, a shuddering
+silence. Had I but man's courage! Yet this is a solitary place, and
+the gods are revengeful."
+
+I cannot say how artlessly ran that voice in this still garden, by
+some strange power persuading me on, turning all doubt aside, calming
+all suspicion.
+
+"There is honeycomb here, and the fruit is plenteous. Yes," she said,
+"and all travellers are violent men--catch and kill meat--that I know,
+however doleful. 'Tis but a little sigh from day to day in these cool
+gardens; and rest is welcome when the heart pines not. Listen, now; I
+will go down and you shall show me--did one have the wit to learn, and
+courage to remember--show me how sails your wonderful little ship;
+tell me, too, where on the sea's horizon to one in exile earth lies,
+with all its pleasant things--yet thinks so bitterly of a woman!"
+
+"Tell me," I said; "tell me but one thing of a thousand. Whom would
+_you_ seek, did a traveller direct you, and a boat were at your need?"
+
+She looked at me, pondering, weaving her webs about me, lulling doubt,
+and banishing fear.
+
+"One could not miss--a hero!" she said, flaming.
+
+"That, then, shall be our bargain," I replied with wrath at my own
+folly. "Tell me this precious hero's name, and though all the dogs of
+the underworld come to course me, you shall take my boat, and leave me
+here--only this hero's name, a pedlar's bargain!"
+
+She lowered her lids. "It must be Diomed," she said with the least
+sigh.
+
+"It must be," I said.
+
+"Nay, then, Antenor, or truly Thersites," she said happily, "the
+silver-tongued!"
+
+"Good-bye, then," I said.
+
+"Good-bye," she replied very gently. "Why, how could there be a vow
+between us? I go, and return. You await me--me, Criseyde, Traveller,
+the lonely-hearted. That is the little all, O much-surrendering
+Stranger! Would that long-ago were now--before all chaffering!"
+
+Again a thousand questions rose to my tongue. She looked sidelong at
+the dry fountain, and one and all fell silent.
+
+"It is harsh, endless labour beneath the burning sun; storms and
+whirlwinds go about the sea, and the deep heaves with monsters."
+
+"Oh, sweet danger!" she said, mocking me.
+
+I turned from her without a word, like an angry child, and made my way
+to the steps into the sea, pulled round my boat into a little haven
+beside them, and shewed her oars and tackle and tiller; all the toil,
+and peril, the wild chances."
+
+"Why," she cried, while I was yet full of the theme, "I will go then
+at once, and to-morrow Troy will come."
+
+I looked long at her in silence; her slim beauty, the answerless
+riddle of her eyes, the age-long subtilty of her mouth, and gave no
+more thought to all life else.
+
+Day was already waning. I filled the water-keg with fresh water, put
+fruit and honeycomb and a pillow of leaves into the boat, proffered a
+trembling hand, and led her down.
+
+The sun's beams slanted on the foamless sea, glowed in a flame of
+crimson on marble and rock and cypress. The birds sang endlessly on of
+evening, endlessly, too, it seemed to me, of dangers my heart had no
+surmise of.
+
+Criseyde turned from the dark green waves. "Truly, it is a solitary
+country; pathless," she said, "to one unpiloted;" and stood listening
+to the hollow voices of the water. And suddenly, as if at the
+consummation of her thoughts, she lifted her eyes on me, darkly, with
+unimaginable entreaty.
+
+"What do you seek else?" I cried in a voice I scarcely recognised.
+"Oh, you speak in riddles!"
+
+I sprang into the boat and seized the heavy oars. Something like
+laughter, or, as it were, the clapper of a scarer of birds, echoed
+among the rocks at the rattling of the rowlocks. As if invisible hands
+withdrew it from me, the island floated back.
+
+I turned my prow towards the last splendour of the sun. A chill breeze
+played over the sea: a shadow crossed my eyes.
+
+Buoyant was my boat; how light her cargo!--an oozing honeycomb, ashy
+fruits, a few branches of drooping leaves, closing flowers; and
+solitary on the thwart the wraith of life's unquiet dream.
+
+So fell night once more, and made all dim. And only the cold light of
+the firmament lit thoughts in me restless as the sea on which I
+tossed, whose moon was dark, yet walked in heaven beneath the distant
+stars.
+
+
+
+Printed and bound by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and
+Aylesbury
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HENRY BROCKEN***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 15432.txt or 15432.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/4/3/15432
+
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
diff --git a/15432.zip b/15432.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3396afd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/15432.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f2ac629
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #15432 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15432)