. Discords. have you been ever since ? I wandered about the streets, said thePrincess, in search of Romance and ofComedy. She stopped and laughed curi-ously. I found them. Comedy!—My God! Do not be blasphemous, Margherita,said the duenna. I am sure I do not know 53 DISCORDS what you mean. Do you mean you sawcurious sights in the streets ? A town likethis is always full of odd happenings. Yes, said the Princess, full of oddhappenings. Then she put her head down upon herarms and broke into sobs. Hush,—hush, carrissima! cried theduenna, leaning over her in are overtired, and no w
. Discords. have you been ever since ? I wandered about the streets, said thePrincess, in search of Romance and ofComedy. She stopped and laughed curi-ously. I found them. Comedy!—My God! Do not be blasphemous, Margherita,said the duenna. I am sure I do not know 53 DISCORDS what you mean. Do you mean you sawcurious sights in the streets ? A town likethis is always full of odd happenings. Yes, said the Princess, full of oddhappenings. Then she put her head down upon herarms and broke into sobs. Hush,—hush, carrissima! cried theduenna, leaning over her in are overtired, and no wonder. Yousee where your wildness leads you ! How-ever, we will say no more about that. Iwill bring you a cup of tea, poverina, andthen you must rest. The Duke, your affi-anced, dines here to-night, and you mustnot be pale and red-eyed. But the Princess sobbed on, unheeding. I said I was content, she was whisper-ing, between her sobs, but I am not,—Iam not! 54 THE WHITEGARDEN DISCORDS Cfce Wtytt Garten. T was like a garden ofsnow,—such a gardenas a disembodied spiritmight have loved andtended, for only whiteflowers grew bloomed, and fellasleep and came againwith each bright spring,—but they were all white. No colour everstole in to jar the delicate monotone whichmade the garden; its purity was absolute, itsbeauty frail and unquestionable. To one whofelt gardens to be among the warmest andsweetest of mans pleasures, and knew noshame in the happy riot of the senses in theirriches, the wan loveliness of this gardenwould have seemed far too remote and col-ourless. But a nun, or a monk, grown accus-tomed to austerity in the emotions, wouldhave been content there. White snow-drops in early spring heraldedthe multiplied sweet profusion of the later 57 DISCORDS flowers which soon filled the garden andgave joy to the bees and butterflies. Therewere all the many blossoms that make theflower-beds of old houses fragrant,—but onlythe white varieties. White sweet-peas,
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