But she clapped her hands and laughed as blithely as a child. "Will you
come?" she cried. "But that will be magnificent. Ah! let us see!" She
darted across the room and perched herself upon the dresser. "Come
here, monsieur, quite close to me. Nay, not too close. So! Now we shall
plan our day. At sunrise we shall wake and dress, and we shall have an
early breakfast here, so as not to waste a single moment of our day,
our day!"
I gazed at her as a Peri might at Paradise, and she rippled on.
"Afterwards we shall drive to the station, and take a train to
somewhere in the country, where we may wander through green fields and
flower-scattered meadows, hand in hand like children. Shall we not,
monsieur?"
I nodded, lost in a perfect dreamland of delight.
"But, no!" she cried quite suddenly. "It is beautiful, that picture,
yet not so beautiful as this. Listen, monsieur--but you can row a boat,
of course."
I nodded again.
"Then, listen! We shall go by train to Hampton, and there we shall take
boat. The river is most lovely thereabouts, and you shall slowly row me
up the stream towards Staines and Windsor through the hottest hours;
slowly, slowly past the green-lawned banks and pretty houses, and among
the darling little osier islets. And as you row I'll sing. And we'll
forget our cares and open wide our hearts to the sunshine and to
happiness without an afterthought. And when the noon comes we shall eat
our lunch upon an island; a merry interlude between two golden dreams.
For afterwards we'll float upon our way again. And when the day is done
and twilight falls we shall land at the loveliest place of all. I know
it well. It is an old, old park garden, thick planted with many great
solemn trees. A private park, but lonely, for the house is haunted, so
they say. And there I shall lead you by the hand into a little marble,
many pillared temple, open to the stars, wherein a tiny spring is born
within a pool, a wishing well. And you shall look therein and I, and we
shall see fresh mirrored on its surface--the faces of our loves. Shall
we do all this, monsieur?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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