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Updated: May 16, 2025
She came and looked into my eyes, while I played. It was fairy-music, witching and sweet a little sad the fairies of the Danube. My heart danced with them in the fatherland. Her eyes looked into mine. Sombre eyes strange eyes. What did they say? She leaned forward on the piano, gazing at me passionately. My soul leaped back and stood at bay. The strange eyes smiled.
Cloudless spread the wide night sky; countless and brilliant shone the stars; peaceful and majestic slept, the purple sea; spotless white gleamed the snowy earth. A weird, witching scene. "Leave me," said the astrologer, "and watch and wait. When the first little pink cloud of sunrise blushes in the sky, come to me. My task will have ended." He waved him away with a regal motion.
"Well, you immensely interest me and you really couldn't have chosen a better time. A secret for we shall make it that of course, shan't we? at this witching hour, in this great old house, is all my visit here will have required to make the whole thing a rare remembrance. So I assure you the more you put before me the better." Mr.
"Let us go there!" "It is too late," said Rose. "No it is not. There is something delightfully novel in promenading with a young lady at the witching hour of midnight, when graveyards yawn, and gibbering ghosts in winding-sheets cut up cantrips before high heaven. Come." "But Mr. Stanford " "Reginald, I tell you. You promised, you know." "But really Reginald, it is too late. What if we were seen?"
They drifted again into that witching maze of melody and movement made one. "You are silent," she said, after a little. "Why?" Lanyard answered with a warning pressure on her hand. The elevator was stationary at the floor, its door wide, the maitre d'hotel engaged in a far quarter of the room, while those four formidable guardians of the exit were gossiping with animation over their glasses.
No other plant, scarcely a bush, is to be seen within its precincts. The Broom Road passes through its entire length. At noonday, this grove is one of the most beautiful, serene, witching places that ever was seen. High overhead are ranges of green rustling arches; through which the sun's rays come down to you in sparkles.
Lionel had been talking about the "Faerie Queene," knight-errantry, the sweet impossible dream-life that, safe from Time, glides by bower and hall, through magic forests and by witching eaves in the world of poet-books. And Darrell listened, and the flute-notes mingled with the atmosphere faint and far off, like voices from that world itself.
And then he thought how enchanting, how fascinating, how fraught with witching charms, would be the conversation of a being endowed with so glorious an intellect, were she able to enjoy the faculty of speech.
She had fainted the terror and excitement had been too great the reaction was too powerful it had overwhelmed her, and she lay insensible across his arms, her fair head hanging back, her white garments streaming in the air, her golden locks floating, her witching eyes closed, and her blue lips apart and rigid on her glistening teeth so she lay like dead Cordelia in the arms of old Lear.
Petersburg fairly turns out; then the beauty and fashion of the city unfold their wings and flit through the streets, or float in Russian gondolas upon the glistening waters of the Neva; then it is the little steamers skim about from island to island, freighted with a population just waked up to a realizing sense of the pleasures of existence; then is the atmosphere balmy, and the light wonderfully soft and richly tinted; then come the sweet witching hours, when
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