Part 28 (1/2)
”Oh! you villain!” he cried, first assuring hiehiuidly
”Yes; you're afraid to remain”
”No, no,” ree you to return; you have basely ned my character And that duel! You have not condescended to open youras you did, all the time, that circumstances render it necessary that I should rehed Jacques, gathering up his reins and looking with languid interest at the ale
”No”
”Ah, really--did I not?”
”No Come now, Jacques! telltone, ”and I'll forgive all; for I' of curiosity”
”I would with pleasure,” said Jacques, ”but unfortunately I haven't time”
”Time? You have lots!”
”No, no--she expects me, you know”
”Who--not----!”
”Yes, Belle-bouche Take care of yourself, ood-by”
And touching his horse with the spurs, he went on, pursued by the ed hi; kept fro to see his sweetheart!
CHAPTER XVII
CORYDON GOES A-COURTING
Have you never, friendly reader, on so, when the air is soft and warm, the sky deep azure, and the whole universe filled to the bri infuses into this the rapes into the goblet of Bohelass, all red and blue and eination to go forth, unfettered by reality, to find in the bright scenes which it creates, a world ures more attractive than the actual universe, the real forms around you? Have you never tried to fill your heart with dreams, to close your vision to the present, and to bathe your weary forehead in those golden waters flowing from the dreamland of the past? The Spanish verses say the old times were the best; and we may assert truly that they are for us at least the best--for reverie
This reverie uid, luxurious, and lapped in down--enveloped in a perfu by its drowsy influence every sentiuid pleasure; or itof beauteous battle, and red banners bathed in slaughter But there is souid and the other fiery
There is the neutral ground of fancy properly so called: a land which we enter with closed eyes and s lips, a country full of fruits and flowers--fruits of that delicious flavor of the Hesperides, sweet flowers odorous as the breezy blossoms which adorn the mountains
Advance into that brilliant country, and you draw in life at every pore--a thousand ay costu with ribbons, rosy cheeks and lips!--ers point at those who follow thes and e their crooks wreathed round with flowers; while over all, the sun laughs gladly, and the breezes bear away theon the air the joyous ay-heartedness
All the old randain; and itate the large rosettes, and glittering ribbons, and bright wreaths of flohich deck thele all thosepicture-decorated fans hich they flirt--this is the derivation of ourco with hter, to the undiscovered land, hidden in ateway of oblivion
You see all this in reverie, gentle reader--build your pretty old chateau to drearotesque as those old high-backed carven chairs--slender and delicate as the chiselled hich breaks in foaainst the cornice And then you wake, and find the flowers pressed in the old volume called the Past, all dry--your castle only a castle of your dreaer fillips down, or, like the frost palace on thepane, faints and fails at a breath!