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Updated: June 1, 2025
There was indescribable scorn in the last word. The doors of the reception hall had been flung back on noiseless pivots by unseen hands. The banqueting room disclosed within was not so much a room as a garden. Flowers, flowers were everywhere, roses, violets, narcissuses, and a score of others breathing forth a heavy fragrance.
The day's sweet eye begins to bloom Across the forest's midnight gloom; Narcissuses, their balm distilling, The path her footstep treads are filling. A song of love, sweet Philomel, Soon carolled through the grove; The streamlet, as it murmuring fell, Discoursed of naught but love, Pygmalion! Happy one! Behold! Life's glow pervades thy marble cold!
The three colors, if white may be called a color, chosen for the bridesmaids' dresses were used in the decorations, and altar, chancel, transept and aisles were brilliant with daffodils, narcissuses and lilacs, which filled the church with their perfume. The wedding was to take place at four o'clock, and when that hour arrived little space was left in the church for the tardy ones.
If he had wished it, he could have bathed himself in flowers; hyacinths, crocuses, jonquils, camellias, roses, grew round him everywhere, sending up a symphony of warm odours; further on, in the grass, violets, anemones, celandine; further still, by the margins of the pond, narcissuses, and tall white flowers-de-luce; and, in the shrubberies, satiny azaleas; and overhead, the magnolia trees, drooping with their freight of ivory cups.
The youthful Persephone, so runs the tale, was gathering roses and lilies, crocuses and violets, hyacinths and narcissuses in a lush meadow, when the earth gaped and Pluto, lord of the Dead, issuing from the abyss carried her off on his golden car to be his bride and queen in the gloomy subterranean world.
And within this divine frame-work, between the glistening snows which still, in April, crown and glorify the heights, and those reflections of them which lie encalmed in the deep bosom of the lake, there's not a foot of pasture, not a shelf of vineyard, not a slope of forest where the spring is not at work, dyeing the turf with gentians, starring it with narcissuses, or drawing across it the first golden net-work of the chestnut leaves; where the mere emerald of the grass is not in itself a thing to refresh the very springs of being; where the peach-blossom and the wild-cherry and the olive are not perpetually weaving patterns on the blue, which ravish the very heart out of your breast.
'It's like the halls of Ivor, said Mysie, awestruck by the loneliness; 'no dog, nor horse, nor cow, not even a goose, 'And what a place to sketch! cried Miss Vincent. 'Oh, Gillian, we must come here another day. 'Oh, may we gather the flowers? exclaimed the insatiable Primrose. 'Those poetic narcissuses would be delicious for the choir screen, added Gillian.
M. Lamartine, in his grand "Meditation on Bonaparte," calls the French A NATION OF BRUTUSES. We are merely a nation of Narcissuses. Previous to '89, we had the aristocracy of blood; then every bourgeois looked down upon the commonalty, and wished to be a nobleman.
"Lots o' spring flowers grow from 'em. Th' very little ones are snowdrops an' crocuses an' th' big ones are narcissuses an' jonquils and daffydowndillys. Th' biggest of all is lilies an' purple flags. Eh! they are nice. Dickon's got a whole lot of 'em planted in our bit o' garden." "Does Dickon know all about them?" asked Mary, a new idea taking possession of her.
There were palms, cactuses, and orange trees, mixed with olive groves. The fields were full of tulips and narcissuses, and the rocks by the roadside were covered with boxwood and lavender. Everything gave evidence of the sunny South. I had got a glimpse of the Mediterranean a few days before; but now I saw it in its glory. I arrived in due time at Toulon. The town is not very striking in itself.
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