'But where is she?'
'Oh, a commentator is always allowed to see a little more than his readers or hearers. I see her. And then there is the spreading beech under which the swain reclines. Look, there are three beeches hard by—all spreading as far as their age permits. Could the beech-tree under which Tityrus reclines do more?'
'Oh, I see that in the matter of proving a theory you were born to destroy Afreets,' said Stella, her face sparkling with fun at the extreme gravity which her companion had assumed.
'But there is much more to follow. A little further on Melib[oe]us says—— May one read a little Latin to you without scandal?'
'Surely that is an anachronism! What else would he read?' said Stella, pretending to misunderstand.
They both laughed at this; and then Stella said: 'Yes, one may.'
'Then, "Hic inter densas corylos." The Oolloolloo is haunted with dense hazel-bushes. Tityrus, in his reply, says that Rome lifts up her head among other cities as high as cypress among bending osiers. I am not sure about more than one patch of osiers, but cypresses you have in abundance.'
'Yes, and of all the trees that grow, none look lovelier in the rose twilight of sunset. See those clumps of them between the house and the orchard, mingled with tamarisk-trees. At mid-day the cypress looks dark and stern compared with the silky tamarisk locks. But when the sunlight is dying, the cypress seems to disentangle its feathery foliage, till it looks like an airy vision of a tree rather than one that has roots underground.'
When Stella spoke of trees, or animals, or flowers, one could see that they were like living humanized creatures to her.
'Now, I have often wondered why I like cypress-trees better at sunset. Tell me some more about trees.'