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Could you know a 'Bertie'?" "I did once, and never want to again. He was a swine and a snob. Hope you never came across the combination?" I forgot to answer, because, having left the mountain world behind, a formidable line of nobly planned arches began striding along beside us, through the sun-bright fields, and I was sure it must be the giant Roman aqueduct of Fréjus.
The underside of the cloud was black and threatening, and presently its bosom shot forth vivid lightnings, green, blue, rosy red, and sun-bright flashes of dazzling brilliancy, the low, deep booming of thunder was heard, and soon the island vanished behind a violet veil of tropical rain, only to reappear, a quarter of an hour later, fresh, green, and sparkling in the ardent rays of the tropic sun.
And one in its swift sinking, parted A placid and sun-bright wave; Oh, deftly the rock was hidden, That keepeth that voyager's grave! And I sorrowed to think how little Of aid from, a kindly hand, Might have guided the beautiful vessel Away from the treacherous strand.
The fire was set to the funeral-pile, and the red flames shot upwards to the sky; but their light was but a flickering beam when matched with the sun-bright beauty of Balder, whose body they consumed. Then the sorrowing folk turned away, and went back to their homes: a cheerless gloom rested heavily where light gladness had ruled before.
But to the older man, seeing as he stood the picture of that other catafalque to which he had crept one night in the lilac time of a year nearly a half century agone, the words flung anathema. He leaned back against the bronze grating of the shaft with a sudden look of age that brought Peter's protective arm to his shoulder. Then, with Peter following, he went out to the sun-bright street.
Then the sheet lightning began to quiver and flicker among the clouds once more; and presently the pall immediately overhead was rent apart by a terrific flash of sun-bright lightning that struck straight down and seemed to hit the water only a few yards from the brig.
It is told in ancient story, how men built a funeral-pile far out on the grassy meadows, where the quiet river flows; and how, in busy silence, they laid the sun-dried beams of ash and elm together, and made ready the hero's couch; and how the pile was dight with many a sun-bright shield, with war-coats and glittering helms, and silks and rich dyed cloths from the South-land, and furs, and fine-wrought ivory, and gem-stones priceless and rare; and how, over all, they scattered sweet spices from Araby, and the pleasantest of all perfumes.
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