Owen's horse approached it, mistaking it for a
drinking trough; "and it will serve for one," he said, "in a little
while after the next rainfall. Some broken capitals, fragments of
columns, a wall built of narrow bricks, a few inscriptions... all
that remains of Rome, dust and forgetfulness."

About him the Arabs were seeking a heron and hawks; a falconer
galloped across the plain, waving a lure, in pursuit of another
hawk, so Owen was informed by his dragoman--as if falcon or heron
could interest him at that moment--and he continued to peer into the
inscription, leaving the Arabs to find the birds. And they were
discovered presently among some marbles, the heron's wings
outstretched in death, the great red wound in its breast making it
seem still more beautiful.

VII

The lake water was salt, but there was a spring among the hills, and
when the hawks were resting (they rested every second day) Owen
liked to go there and lie under the tamarisks, dreaming of Sicily,
of "the visionary flocks" and their shepherds no less visionary,
comparing the ideal with the real, for before him flocks grazed up
the hillside and his eyes followed the goats straying in quest of
branches, their horns tipped with the wonderful light which threw
everything into relief--the bournous of the passing bedouin, the
woman's veil, whether blue or grey, the queer architecture of the
camels and dromedaries coming up through a fold in the hills from
the lake, following the track of the caravans, their long, bird-like
necks swinging, looking, Owen thought, like a great flock of
migrating ostriches.

It was pleasant to lie and dream this pastoral country and its
people, seen through a haze of fine weather which looked as if it
would never end. The swallows had just come over and were tired;
Owen was provoking enough to drive them out of the tamarisks just to
see how tired they were, and was sorry for one poor bird which could
hardly keep out of his way. Whence had they come? he asked,
returning to a couch of moss. Had any of them come from Riversdale?
Perhaps some had been hatched under his own eaves? (Any mention of
Riversdale was sufficient to soften Owen's heart.) And now under the
tamarisks his thoughts floated about that bleak house and its
colonnade, thinking of a white swallow which had appeared in the
park one year; friends were staying with him, every one had wanted
to shoot it, but leave had not been granted; and his natural
kindness