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The chateau, a modern building in Italian style, with two projecting wings and three flights of steps, lay at the foot of an immense green-sward, on which some cows were grazing among groups of large trees set out at regular intervals, while large beds of arbutus, rhododendron, syringas, and guelder roses bulged out their irregular clusters of green along the curve of the gravel path.

Lucian would gladly have kicked them all, without distinction. He at last suggested that they should leave the path, and make a short cut across the green-sward.

He carried her to a weeping birch tree, which grew on the green-sward bank around which the road winded, and, placing her on the ground beneath it, exhorted her to compose herself.

At mid-day we reached an arroyo a clear, cool stream that gurgled along under a thick grove of the palma redonda. Here we "nooned", stretching our bodies along the green-sward.

On fresh green-sward appears the mother Centaur, the whole equine part of her stretched on the ground, her hoofs extended backwards; the human part is slightly raised on the elbows; the fore feet are not extended like the others, for she is only partially on her side; one of them is bent as in the act of kneeling, with the hoof tucked in, while the other is beginning to straighten and take a hold on the ground the action of a horse rising.

The slopes here, at least near the water's-edge, were not quite so densely wooded, the aspect of the landscape being exceedingly park-like, the soil being clothed with a velvety green-sward, thickly dotted with clumps of noble trees.

Dark grey was the valley everywhere, save that by the side of the water was a space of bright green-sward hedged about toward the mountain by a wall of rocks tossed up into wild shapes of spires and jagged points.

The hawthorns in Wimperfield Park glowed in the distance like patches of crimson flame, and the undulating sweeps of bracken showed golden-brown against the green-sward; while the oaks-symbolic of all that is solid, ponderous, and constant in woodland nature, slow to bloom and slow to die had hardly a faded leaf to murk the coming of winter.

Yet there was much in him which was good; for underneath the flowers and green-sward of poetry, and the good principles which would have taken root, had he given them time, therelay a strong and healthy soil of common sense, freshened by living springs of feeling, and enriched by many faded hopes, that had fallen upon it like dead leaves.

A clear, ringing voice uttered the words, as a young man strode from a tree near, tossed his hat to the green-sward, and confronted the startled trio. "My son, my son!" The next instant the old lady was clasped to the breast of August Bordine. It was a dramatic scene. But the drama was not yet complete.