. . . . . . Go home, my full-fed goats,
Cometh the Evening Star, my goats, go home.”
CHAPTER VI
The Golden Shell
“Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen blüh’n?”
When Ulysses Grant had ended the Civil War in America and was made President, he turned from uttering his solemn oath of office before the cheering multitudes and said under his breath to his wife who stood beside him, in that tone of half-resentful, half-weary patience the American husband usually adopts in speaking to his mate, “Well, now, Julia, I hope you’re satisfied!”
There was the same exasperated patience in Jane’s voice as she climbed into the railway carriage for Palermo and, throwing herself back upon the cushions, exclaimed:
“Well, now, Peripatetica, I hope you’ve had enough of the Greeks! For my part I go on to the next course; something a little more modern. Tombs and goddesses and columns and myths cloy as a steady diet for months, and even the ridiculous pompous old Eighteenth Century would seem rather home-like and comfy as a change. I could find it in my heart to relish a bit of the odious decadence of l’art nouveau simply by way of contrast.”
Peripatetica treated this shameful outburst with all the stern contempt it so truly merited, as she was engaged in making the acquaintance of a descendant of that great race of Northmen who had made history all over Sicily and the rest of Europe. He too was a conqueror, though his weapon was a paint-brush and a modelling tool instead of a sword, and kings received him with all the honours due an acknowledged ruler of a realm. He dwelt by a great lake far to the north in that “nursery of kings” in a home built five hundred years ago of huge fir-trees; logs so sound and clean-fibred that the centuries had left the wood still as firm as stone. Making his play of resurrection of the old wild melodies of the North, of the old costumes and industries of the people from whose loins had sprung half the rulers of the continent. The Sea Rover’s blood was strong in him too, driving him to wander in a boat no bigger than those of his Viking ancestors along the stormy fjords and fierce coasts to the still more distant north.