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The old roan, so famous for cross-country work, turning his large eyeball to the grated window near his rack, may remember the fresh leaves that glisten there at other times and the scents that stream in, and may have a fine run with the hounds, while the human helper, clearing out the next stall, never stirs beyond his pitchfork and birch-broom.
One bright summer-day, the sun was shining splendidly the flowers were in full bloom the air was laden with sweet scents from the honey-suckles and moss-roses, and the larks were singing away high up in the sky, as merry as if they had all gone out for a holiday, when Wishie took it into her head to have a stroll in the garden.
He looked at Albert he was as white as his shirt, and mechanically cast away his cigar, although he had not half smoked it. The count alone seemed unmoved nay, more, a slight color seemed striving to rise in his pale cheeks. His nostrils dilated like those of a wild beast that scents its prey, and his lips, half opened, disclosed his white teeth, small and sharp like those of a jackal.
The impression would be gone, perhaps, as soon as felt, rebuked by something like a flash of remorse. But it was not in my power to prevent its recurrence. And the delight in natural things colors, forms, scents when there was nothing to restrain or hamper it, has often been a kind of intoxication, in which thought and consciousness seemed suspended "as though of hemlock one had drunk."
The garden, inclosed in rose-red walls and green hedges, was like a great tank filled with sunshine; sunshine that was visible, palpable, audible almost in its intensity; sunshine caught and contained and brimming over, that quivered and flowed in and around the wall-flowers, tulips and narcissus, that drenched them through and through and covered them like water, and was thick with all their scents.
"It's like the odour of corruption," he murmured, though actually it was the odour of hair washes and lotions and scents that filled the guest's cell.
A thousand old pleasant memories came back to him, the sights and scents and sounds of forgotten places, the zest of toil and escapade, the joy of food and warmth and rest. Well! he had lived, had tasted to the full the joys of the old earth, the kindly mother of her children.
This might all be termed a period of preparation that period was fixed for Peter with its sign and seal on a certain evening of spring when an enormous orange moon was in the sky, scents were in all the Chelsea gardens, and the Chelsea streets were like glass in the silver luminous light.
No wonder, since it lies walled away from the outer world like the Sleeping Beauty by woods, and woods, and woods: the forests of Hallette, Chantilly, and Ermenonville, each as full of history as it is now of aromatic scents, and used to be of wild boars for kings to kill! I think the best of the forest pictures has Henri de Navarre for its principal figure.
It was like a draught of wine to him who has been drinking water for so long that he has almost forgotten the stir wine brings to his blood, the narcotic to his brain. The flowers were coloured brighter, scents and music and the sunlight had a living value were no longer mere reminders of past enjoyment. There was something now to live for which stirred him continually to anticipation.
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