“D’you think in their hearts they actually hate moral beauty?”
“Well, despise it, laugh at it, try to tarnish it.”
“Paganism!”
“Good heavens, no!”
And they both laughed as they went down the narrow path to the soft green valley that awaited them, hushed in the breathless morning, withdrawn among the hills, holding its memories of the athletic triumphs of past ages. Near the Museum they stopped for a moment to look down on the valley.
“Is the Hermes in there?” Rosamund asked, glancing at the closed and deserted building.
“Yes.”
“What a strange and delicious home for him.”
“You shall visit him presently. There are jackals in this valley.”
“I didn’t hear any last night.”