On reaching the first of the long row of villas, she stopped to
rearrange her dress. It was even more lonely here. Most of the houses,
on account of the early commencement of autumn, had already been
deserted; in the gardens of the pleasure resorts, the Pagoda and
others, tables and benches still stood awry, as they had remained
during the long rains, and the yellow leaves were not even brushed
away. But all this dreariness and inhospitality could not damp the
spirits of our young pair. Toinette--and especially Edwin--were
delighted to have the beautiful castle garden all to themselves.
"It's strange," said the young girl as they walked through the silent
avenues and at last paused beside the famous carp pond, where to-day
the broad heads of the fishes were scarcely visible beneath the thick
covering of yellow leaves--"I always feel happiest and gayest when
everything around is very grey and dreary. When anything was going on
in my little native city, a ball or a shooting match, or any kind of
festivity, I always felt very melancholy among the happy cake-eating
crowd. And in our castle park, which is almost as ancient and venerable
as this, and has a great many places where it's not safe to go, I've
wandered about half a day like a little deer, and been perfectly at
home. Do you see now that I'm nothing out of my fine clothes, that it's
from no coquetry that I prefer to wear velvet rather than calico? Here,
for instance, even beside you, I feel too poor and shabby for these
royal avenues. You smile. Say what you please, it may be vain and
foolish and brainless, but it's natural to me, and I can't help it, I
shall carry it with me to the grave."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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