I suddenly felt myself growing faint, for, although I had not fasted long, a journey such as I had just accomplished is exhausting.
Near by stood a beautiful tree on which there was ripe fruit. Some one instantly interpreted the glance I involuntarily directed to it, and plucked a cluster of the large rich berries and gave them to me, first putting one in his own mouth to show me that it was a safe experiment.
While I ate,—I found the fruit exceedingly refreshing,—the company conferred together, and presently one of the younger men approached and took me gently by the arm and walked me away toward the city. The others followed us.
We had not to go farther than the first suburb. My companion, whom they called Severnius, turned into a beautiful park, or grove, in the midst of which stood a superb mansion built of dazzling white stone. His friends waved us farewells with their hands,—we responding in like manner,—and proceeded on down the street.
I learned afterwards that the park was laid out with scientific precision. But the design was intricate, and required study to follow the curves and angles. It seemed to me then like an exquisite mood of nature.
The trees were of rare and beautiful varieties, and the shrubbery of the choicest. The flowers, whose colors could not declare themselves,—it being night,—fulfilled their other delightful function and tinctured the balmy air with sweet odors.
Paths were threaded like white ribbons through the thick greensward.
As we walked toward the mansion, I stopped suddenly to listen to a most musical and familiar and welcome sound,—the plash of water. My companion divined my thought. We turned aside, and a few steps brought us to a marble fountain. It was in the form of a chaste and lovely female figure, from whose chiseled fingers a shower of glittering drops continually poured. Severnius took an alabaster cup from the base of the statue, filled it, and offered me a drink. The water was sparkling and intensely cold, and had the suggestion rather than the fact of sweetness.
“Delicious!” I exclaimed. He understood me, for he smiled and nodded his head, a gesture which seemed to say, “It gives me pleasure to know that you find it good.” I could not conceive of his expressing himself in any other than the politest manner.
We proceeded into the house. How shall I describe that house? Imagine a place which responds fully to every need of the highest culture and taste, without burdening the senses with oppressive luxury, and you have it! In a word, it was an ideal house and home. Both outside and inside, white predominated. But here and there were bits of color the most brilliant, like jewels. I found that I had never understood the law of contrast, or of economy in art; I knew nothing of “values,” or of relationships in this wonderful realm, of which it maybe truly said, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”