mily
showed a horrid vegetation, huge polyps, the diseases of an overheated
soil, the maladies of poisoned sap. But the aloes, languidly unfolding
their hearts, were particularly numerous and conspicuous. Among them
one found every possible tint of green, pale green and vivid, yellowish
green and greyish, browny green, dashed with a ruddy tone, and deep
green, fringed with pale gold. And the shapes of their leaves were as
varied as their tints. Some were broad and heart-shaped, others were
long and narrow like sword-blades; some bristled with spikey thorns,
while yet others looked as though they had been cunningly hemmed at the
edges. There were giant ones, in lonely majesty, with flower stalks that
towered up aloft like poles wreathed with rosy coral; and there were
tiny ones clustering thickly together on one and the same stem, and
throwing forth on all sides leaves that gleamed and quivered like
adders' tongues.

'Let us go back to the shade,' begged Serge. 'You can sit down there as
you did just now, and I will lie at your feet and talk to you.'

Where they stood the sun rays fell like torrential rain. It was as if
the triumphant orb seized upon the shadowless ground, and strained it
to his blazing breast. Albine grew faint, staggered, and turned to Serge
for support.

But the moment they felt each other's touch, they fell together without
even a word. It was as though the very rock beneath them had opened, as
though they were ever going down and down. Their hands sought each other
caressingly, embracingly, but such keen anguish did they experience
that they suddenly tore themselves apart, and fled, each in a different
direction. Serge did not cease running till he had reached the pavilion,
and had thrown himself upon his bed, his brain on fire, and despair in
his heart. Albine did not return till nightfall, after hours of weeping
in a corner of the garden. It was the first time that they had not
returned home together, tired after their long wanderings. For three
days they kept apart, feeling terribly unhappy.

XIII

Yet now the park was entirely their own. They had taken sovereign
possession of it. There was not a corner of it that was not theirs to
use as they willed. For them alone the thickets of roses put forth their
blossoms, and the parterre exhaled its soft perfume, which lulled them
to sleep as they lay at night with their windows open. The orchard
provided them with food, filling Albine's skir