here, we know all the garden by heart.'

But Albine shook her head, and in a whisper replied, 'No, no, we don't
know the rocks, we have never been to the springs. It was there that I
warmed myself last winter. There are some nooks where the stones seem to
be actually alive.'

The next morning, without having said another word on the subject, they
set out together. They climbed up to the left behind the grotto where
the marble woman lay slumbering; and as they set foot on the lowest
stones, Serge remarked: 'We must see everything. Perhaps we shall feel
quieter afterwards.'

The day was very hot, there was thunder in the air. They had not
ventured to clasp each other's waist; but stepped along, one behind the
other, glowing beneath the sunlight. Albine took advantage of a widening
of the path to let Serge go on in front; for the warmth of his breath
upon her neck troubled her. All around them the rocks arose in broad
tiers, storeys of huge flags, bristling with coarse vegetation. They
first came upon golden gorse, clumps of sage, thyme, lavender, and other
balsamic plants, with sour-berried juniper trees and bitter rosemary,
whose strong scent made them dizzy. Here and there the path was hemmed
in by holly, that grew in quaint forms like cunningly wrought metal
work, gratings of blackened bronze, wrought iron, and polished copper,
elaborately ornamented, covered with prickly _rosaces_. And before
reaching the springs, they had to pass through a pine-wood. Its shadow
seemed to weigh upon their shoulders like lead. The dry needles crackled
beneath their feet, throwing up a light resinous dust which burned their
lips.

'Your garden doesn't make itself very agreeable just here,' said Serge,
turning towards Albine.

They smiled at each other. They were now near the edge of the springs.
The sight of the clear waters brought them relief. Yet these springs did
not hide beneath a covering of verdure, like those that bubble up on the
plains and set thick foliage growing around them that they may slumber
idly in the shade. They shot up in the full light of day from a cavity
in the rock, without a blade of grass near by to tinge the clear water
with green. Steeped in the sunshine they looked silvery. In their depths
the sun beat against the sand in a breathing living dust of light. And
they darted out of their basin like arms of purest white, they rebounded
like nude infants at play, and then suddenly leapt down in a waterfall