Hearts
and minds wore fewer clothes among these woods and vineyards. There
was no nakedness though ... there were flowers and moss, blue sky and
peace and beauty. ... Thought ran into confused, vague pictures. He
could not give them coherence, shape, form. ...
He crossed the meadows and entered the village through the Pension
garden. The Widow Jequier gave him a spray of her Persian lilac on the
way. 'It's been growing twenty-five years for you,' she said, 'only do
not look at _me_. I'm in my garden things--invisible.' He remembered
with a smile Jane Anne's description--that 'the front part of the
house was all at the back.'
Tumbling down the wooden stairs, he crossed the street and made for
the Citadelle, where the children opened the door for him even before
he rang. Jimbo and Monkey, just home from school, pulled him by both
arms towards the tea-table. They had watched for his coming.
'The samovar's just boiling,' Mother welcomed him. Daddy was on the
sofa by the open window, reading manuscript over to himself in a
mumbling voice; and Jane Anne, apron on, sleeves tucked up, face
flushed, poked her head in from the kitchen:
'Excuse me, Mother, the cupboard's all in distress. I can't find the
marmalade anywhere.'
'But it's already on the table, child.'
She saw her Cousin and popped swiftly back again from view.
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