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Lower and lower sinks the sun, till Nehemoth, following it, comes with his panting slaves to the great purple garden of which surely thine own country has its songs, from wherever thou art come. 'There he alights from his palanquin and goes up to a throne of ivory set in the garden's midst, facing full westwards, and sits there alone, long regarding the sunlight until it is quite gone.
'No, said he, 'Stepan Vassilievitch, everything's well looked after, but your garden's neglected. But, as a fact, it's well kept up. 'To my thinking, I'd cut down that lime-tree. Here you've thousands of limes, and each would make two good bundles of bark. And nowadays that bark's worth something. I'd cut down the lot."
Sometimes out of the dusk all tremulous with tinted light the rainbow ray of a jewel flashed in his eyes or sometimes he caught the glint of eyes above the jewel a passing view of a fair face, a moment's encountering glance, and, maybe, a smile just as the shadows falling turned the garden's brightness to a mystery peopled with phantoms.
There was certainly a curious fragrance in the air, wild and sweet like orchards in the spring. "And it is ?" "That the Garden's everywhere! You needn't go to the distant Caucasus to find it. It's all about this old London town, and in these foggy streets and dingy pavements. It's even in this cramped, undusted room. Now at this moment, while that lamp flickers and the thousands go to sleep.
For some reason he was making an effort to be agreeable to me. He began to talk of Stevenson's books, and presently the conversation drifted to London. "I suppose Covent Garden's still going strong," he said. "I think I miss the opera as much as anything here. Have you seen Tristan and Isolde?"
And all shall be revealed: now list my tale: 'Tis five months flown, my father yet controlled The land, and bowed our necks with iron sway; Little I knew but the wild joys of arms, And mimic warfare of the chase; One day, Long had we tracked the boar with zealous toil On yonder woody ridge: it chanced, pursuing A snow-white hind, far from your train I roved Amid the forest maze; the timid beast, Along the windings of the narrow vale, Through rocky cleft and thick-entangled brake, Flew onward, scarce a moment lost, nor distant Beyond a javelin's throw; nearer I came not, Nor took an aim; when through a garden's gate, Sudden she vanished: from my horse quick springing, I followed: lo! the poor scared creature lay Stretched at the feet of a young, beauteous nun, That strove with fond caress of her fair hands To still its throbbing heart: wondering, I gazed; And motionless my spear, in act to strike, High poised while she, with her large piteous eyes For mercy sued and thus we stood in silence Regarding one another.
And wait a bit, Ivan Karlovitch, what will he be in ten years' time? He will be far above us!" But at this point the real Yegor Semyonitch, suddenly coming to himself, would make a terrible face, would clutch his head and cry: "The devils! They have spoilt everything! They have ruined everything! They have spoilt everything! The garden's done for, the garden's ruined!"
So they clothe them with shrubberies and vines and thus on the home's true corporate bound the garden's profile, countenance and character are established in the best way possible; without, that is, any impulse toward embellishment insulated from utility.
I wandered through the long, darkish hall that penetrated our edifice from front to back, and I sometimes emerged into the garden's bosky sullenness in my unsmiling misery.
"Now the excitement's all over and done with," he drawled in his half-apologetic tones, "it wouldn't be a bad idea for you boys to get to work and throw the water back where it belongs. I dunno but what the garden's spoiled already; but the small fruit can be saved." "Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp," spoke up Gene. "We wanted to see "
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