Maurice did not reply, being too much amazed for speech, and standing there feasted his eyes on the beautiful picture framed by the archway, of which he was only able to gain a general idea. It was a vision of snowy hills, miniature forests, yellow fields of corn, terraced vineyards, and a mass of white houses in the hollow, while clinging to the mountain side were other buildings showing white against the pale green of the foliage. High above, encircled by the top rim of the crater, which was broken into a dazzling circle of snow-white peaks, was the blue sky, with the burning sun blazing down into the hollow, wherein, like a mirror, flashed a small lake, encircled by trees. Below, palms waved their feathery fans, above, the light green of the pine trees burned like emeralds in the hot sunshine, and over all this enchanted scene brooded an intense rest, an air of serene calm, which made it seem to Maurice like that sleepy land of the lotus-eaters. And this was Melnos. CHAPTER XVII. AN ISLAND KING. Oh, I know naught of the work-a-day world! This is the land of eternal quiet, Where I can nestle in indolence curled, Far from the clamor of modern riot. Here are my wings of ambition close furled, For I know naught of the work-a-day world. I am the king of an indolent race, Working with pleasure, and not with regret; Never the phantom of Money they chase, Never they feel in their bosoms a fret; Nothing to alter, for all is in place. I am the king of an indolent race.