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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"A Prisoner in Fairyland"

She stood a moment, silhouetted
against the sky; then shaking her feet rapidly each in turn like bits
of quivering wire, she stepped precisely into the room. 'I am in it
too,' she plainly said, curling herself up on the chair Daddy had just
vacated, but resigning herself placidly enough to his scanty lap when
he came back again and began to read. Her deep purring, while he
stroked her absent-mindedly, became an undercurrent in the sound of
his voice, then presently ceased altogether....
On and on he read, while the moon sailed over La Citadelle, bidding
the stars hush to listen too. She put her silvery soft hands across
their eyes that they might hear the better. The blue wind of night
gathered up the meaning and spread it everywhere. The forest caught
the tale from the low laughter in the crest of the poplar, and passed
it on to the leagues of forest that bore it in turn across the
frontiers into France. Thence snowy Altels and the giant Blumlisalp
flashed it south along the crowding peaks and down among the Italian
chestnut woods, who next sent it coursing over the rustling waves of
the Adriatic and mixed it everywhere with the Mediterranean foam. In
the morning the shadows upon bare Grecian hills would whisper it among
the ancient islands, and the East catch echoes of it in the winds of
dawn.


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