. Stories for the household . l you are! how delicate and shining! I should like tokiss every one of you. Tou others, also: I know you all; but you donot know me. 9°4 Stories for the Household. The fishes stared out into the twilight. They did not understand aword of it. The Dryad was there no longer. She had been a long time in theopen air, where the different countries, the country of black bread, thecod-fish coast, the kingdom of Russia leather, and the banks of eau-de-Cologne, and the gardens of rose oil, exhaled their perfumes from theworld-wonder flower. When, after a night at a ball, we
. Stories for the household . l you are! how delicate and shining! I should like tokiss every one of you. Tou others, also: I know you all; but you donot know me. 9°4 Stories for the Household. The fishes stared out into the twilight. They did not understand aword of it. The Dryad was there no longer. She had been a long time in theopen air, where the different countries, the country of black bread, thecod-fish coast, the kingdom of Russia leather, and the banks of eau-de-Cologne, and the gardens of rose oil, exhaled their perfumes from theworld-wonder flower. When, after a night at a ball, we drive home half asleep and halfawake, the melodies still sound plainly in our ears; we hear them, andcould sing them all from memory. When the eye of the murdered mancloses, the picture of what it saw last clings to it for a time like a pho-tographic picture. So it was likewise here: the bustling life of day had not yet disap-peared in the quiet night. The Dryad had seen it; she knew, thus itwill be repeated to-morrow. v% f. BY THE FOUNTAIN. The Dryad stood among the fragrant roses, and thought she knewthem and had seen them in her own home. She also saw red pome-granate flowers, like those that little Mary had worn in her dark hair. Remembrances from the home of her childhood flashed through herthoughts; her eyes eagerly drank iu the prospect around, and feverishrestlessness chased her through the wonder-filled halls. A weariness that increased continually took possession of her. Shefelt a longing to rest on the soft Oriental carpets within, or to lean againstthe weeping willow without by the clear water. But for the ephemeralfly there was no rest. In a few moments the day had completed itscircle- Tne Dnjaci. 905 Her thoughts trembled, her limbs trembled, she sank down on thegrass by the bubbling water. Thou wilt ever spring living from the earth, she said my tongue—bring me a refreshing draught. I am no living water, was the answer. I only spring upward
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