hose every pearl would pour forth
joys unknown to man. And although she almost buried herself beneath the
mass of tuberoses and hyacinths which she plucked, she next stripped a
field of poppies, and even found means to crop an expanse of marigolds
farther on. All these she heaped over the tuberoses and hyacinths, and
then ran back to the room with the blue ceiling, taking the greatest
care as she went that the breeze should not rob her of a single pistil.
And once more did she come downstairs.

But what was she to gather now? She had stripped the parterre bare. As
she rose upon the tips of her shoes in the dim gloom, she could only see
the garden lying there naked and dead, deprived of the tender eyes of
its roses, the crimson smile of its carnations, and the perfumed locks
of its heliotropes. Nevertheless, she could not return with empty arms.
So she laid hands upon the herbs and leafy plants. She crawled over the
ground, as though she would have carried off the very soil itself in
a clutch of supreme passion. She filled her skirt with a harvest of
aromatic plants, southernwood, mint, verbenas. She came across a border
of balm, and left not a leaf of it unplucked. She even broke off two big
fennels which she threw over her shoulders like a couple of trees. Had
she been able, she would have carried all the greenery of the garden
away with her between her teeth. When she reached the threshold of the
pavilion, she turned round and gave a last look at the Paradou. It was
quite dark now. The night had fully come and cast a black veil over
everything. Then for the last time she went up the stairs, never more to
step down them.

The spacious room was quickly decked. She had placed a lighted lamp upon
the table. She sorted out the flowers heaped upon the floor and arranged
them in big bunches, which she distributed about the room. First she
placed some lilies behind the lamp on the table, forming with them a
lofty lacelike screen which softened the light with its snowy purity.
Then she threw handfuls of carnations and stocks over the old sofa,
which was already strewn with red bouquets that had faded a century
ago, till all these were hidden, and the sofa looked like a huge bed of
stocks bristling with carnations. Next she placed the four armchairs in
front of the alcove. On the first one she piled marigolds, on the second
poppies, on the third mirabilis, and on the fourth heliotrope. The
chairs were completely buried in bloo