Ah, ‘tis true! We had not met!— And so, fair as you are, you were not there, In Paimpont Wood, on the Eve of Saint John? THE MARQUISE No! DE VARDES I wonder who was! THE MARQUISE In Paimpont Wood! It is haunted! DE VARDES On the Eve of Saint John I rode from Morbec here to Chatillon, And through the wood of Paimpont fared alone. It is a forest where enchantments thrive, And a fair dream doth drop from every tree! The old, old world of bitterness and strife Is remote as winter, remote as death. It was high noon in the turbulent town; But clocks never strike in the elfin wood, And the sun’s ruddy gold is elsewhere spent. The light was dim in the depths of Paimpont, Green, reverend, and dim as the light may be In a sea king’s palace under the sea. The wind did not blow; the flowering bough Was still as the rose on a dead man’s breast. On velvet hoof the doe and fawn went by; In other woods the lark and linnet sang; A stealthy way was taken by the fox; The badger trod upon the softest moss; And like a shadow flitted past the hare. Without a sound the haunted fountain played. The oak boughs dreamed; the pine was motionless; Its silver arms the beech in silence spread; The poplar had forgot its lullaby. It was as still as cloudland in the wood, For in a hawthorn brake old Merlin sleeps, And every leaf is hushed for love of him. There through the years they sleep and listless dream, The wood of Paimpont and the wizard old. They dream of valleys where the lilies blow; They dream of woodland gods and castles high, Of faun and Pan and of the Table Round, Of dryad trees and of a maiden dark— That Vivien whom old Merlin once did love, Vivien le Gai whose love was poisonous! THE MARQUISE I’ve heard it said by women spinning flax, “Who wanders in Paimpont wanders in love; Let him who loves in Paimpont Wood beware!” DE VARDES Ah, idle word! Oh, many silver bells Since Vivien’s day have rung, Beware, beware! And rung in vain, for in every clime Lies Paimpont Wood, dawns the Eve of Saint John! THE MARQUISE And in the forest there whom did you love? DE VARDES I do not know. I have not seen her since, Unless—unless I saw her face last night! YVETTE (_behind the base of the statue_) Oh!— DE VARDES Did you not hear a voice? THE MARQUISE ‘Tis the wind.— You’re riding through the wood to Chatillon. DE VARDES