e marble basin, from which a tall fountain rose, white and
ghostly, and made a sobbing noise. Pierrot went towards the temple, then
he turned back and walked right into the undergrowth through the bushes,
and lay down on the grass, and listened to the singing of the night-jar.
The whole garden that night seemed to be sighing and whispering;
there was a soft warm wind, and a smell of mown hay in the air, and an
intoxicating sweetness came from the bushes of syringa. Columbine and
Harlequin also joined the revellers. They passed from group to group,
with aimless curiosity, pausing sometimes by the artificial ponds and
sometimes by the dainty groups of dancers, whose satin and whose pearls
glimmered faintly in the shifting moonlight, for the night was cloudy.
At last they too were tired of the revel, they wandered towards a more
secluded place and made for the avenue which Pierrot had sought. On
their way they passed through a narrow grass walk between two rows of
closely cropped yew hedges. There on a marble seat a tall man in a black
domino was sitting, his head resting on his hands; and between the loose
folds of his satin cloak, one caught the glint of precious stones. When
they had passed him Columbine whispered to Harlequin: "That is the King.
I caught sight of his jewelled collar." They presently found themselves
in the long avenue at the end of which were the waterfall and the
fountain. They wandered on till they reached the Greek temple, and there
suddenly Columbine put her finger on her lips. Then she led Harlequin
back a little way and took him round through the undergrowth to the back
of the temple, and, crouching down in the bushes, bade him look. In the
middle of the temple there was a statue of Eros holding a torch in his
hands. Standing close beside the statue were two figures, a man dressed
as a Pierrot, and a beautiful lady who wore a grey satin domino. She
had taken off her mask and pushed back the hood from her hair, which was
encircled by a diadem made of something shining and silvery, and a ray
of moonlight fell on her face, which was as delicate as the petal of a
flower. Pierrot was masked; he was holding her hand and looking into her
eyes, which were turned upwards towards his.

"It is the Queen!" whispered Columbine to Harlequin. And once more
putting her finger on her lips, she deftly led him by the hand and
noiselessly threaded her way through the bushes and back into the
avenue, and without sayin