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Updated: June 29, 2025
They had been honored with a "close-up" scene, those two spotted calves, and were destined to further honors which they did not suspect and could not appreciate. They slept now, as slept the two camps upon the two slopes that lay moon-bathed at midnight.
Moon-bathed, between the carved posts of the palace-gate, two people blocked the way. The music ceased. The sudden silence framed itself against the distant thunder of a hundred drums. The crowd all heads bowed, as decreed drew in its breath and held it. A sea of pugrees moved as brown eyes looked up surreptitiously stared memorized and then looked down again.
"They meant no doubt to make some attempt at your house, but, as he came out with you, an alternative plan " Abreast of the pond, my companion slowed down, and finally stopped. "Where did you last see Eltham?" he asked, rapidly. I took his arm, turning him slightly to the right, and pointed across the moon-bathed common. "You see that clump of bushes on the other side of the road?" I said.
There was no doubt whatever in his mind that I should try to leave the country, while I, on the contrary, could not bear to think of deserting my people at the crisis of their fortunes. It was a beautiful night, such a night, I think, as only Palestine can show, a white, serene, moon-bathed night.
There is a large and noble calm about the poetry of this writer which has the effect upon one of the falling of cool water into a dark, fern-fringed cave. He strips away lightly, delicately, gently, all the trappings of our feverish worldliness, our vanity and ambition, and lifts open, at one touch, the great moon-bathed windows that look out upon the line of white foam and the patient sands.
I tried to laugh at myself, staring from the window at the moon-bathed landscape; but the strange personality of my solitary companion would not be denied, and I looked quickly in her direction in time to detect her glancing away; in time to experience the uncanny fascination of her gaze.
"Merciful God," he said, "he is shot through the head." One glance I gave at the ghastly wound in the base of the Colonel's skull, and then swayed backward in a sort of nausea. To see a man die in the heat of battle, a man one has known and called friend, is strange and terrible. Here in this moon-bathed Tudor garden it was a horror almost beyond my powers to endure.
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